“Ann Veronica,” he said, “I tell you this is love. No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree. Not at all. “I am sorry that I have murdered you. It was time to disappear, no more Becks, no more Spaghetti Nights, no more afternoon kisses in the park with John Diedermayer. Silk. Next instant he had her immobilised, her hands behind her back, her chest crushed to his, the white veil slipping once again. And now, my angel, that I am acquainted with your sentiments on this subject, I shall readily fulfil a promise which I made to your lamented parent, whose loss I shall ever deplore.
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