No splinters.But they forget, or don't care that it was HIS bed! He got out of his coffin and got dressed. He shut the lid and looked at it with a sig.... Yup, someone had been here. Chocolate syrup spots, and sticky drops. He scraped at one and raised it to his mouth. Honey.Not much to narrow down the suspects. Neither Cat, Friday nor Ali was averse to sweet accoutrements. But then he spotted the feather stuck to one drop of honey. A soft and iridescent feather. A Muse's feather. Friday's. Suzannah was only a few years younger than me — she admitted to thirty four — and a good looking woman like her would have been snapped up in swift order."Do you want to talk about your previous marriage?" I asked, portraying 'the caring sort of fiancé'."No." Her abrupt reply portraying 'the mind your own business sort of fiancée'.Actually I knew bugger all about Suzannah Weston, other than she had a wealthy father, a MSc in electronic design, was intelligent, beautiful, and shagged like a. More

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