"Ethel you look, well, different!" Ethel's mother's voice betrayed protest."Mother you must have gotten those cataracts taken care of. I'm proud of yo...." The sarcasm wasn't lost."Is that what they teach you in college?" Her father's voice stern."Yes dad, they teach us how to be sarcastic but most of all they teach us to be honest." Ethel folded her arms across her chest. "So how are you?" Ethel hugged her father catching him off guard. His tepid response reinforced what Ethel already knew; her. "That isn't mine. That's a filthy book!" Ah found it on the bottom shelf." Abigail turned to the inside front cover. "Who's Annabel Spott?" Sprott," Margaret muttered. "She was ... umm ... a tenant," she said quietly."Oh ... not want her books?"Margaret took a deep breath. "When you were a baby. She'd um..." Margaret gulped. "She was murdered." Here?" Abigail asked, and Margaret shook her head. "In the flat?" Nah. Outside. But um ... well it affected a lot of people. We dain't talk about it.. More

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