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Page 74
woman's personal effects. Driver rightly reasoned that he could ill afford to have the Inspector find anything else that would perpetuate the woman's fantasies of the nonexistent relationship between the two of them.
And Dawkins, likewise, had not given up. That was evidenced by the fact that the Inspector had already called twice, the second time less than an hour ago. Dawkins had informed him that he would be stopping by in the morning because he had a few more questions. To Harry Driver that meant one thing; he had to complete his search and destroy mission before the Inspector arrived.
He unbuttoned his shirt, took it off and hung it over the knob on the closet door. It was the same thing every night; trousers were placed on a hook inside the closet, and he kicked his discarded shoes under the bed. It hadn't yet registered that there was no longer a Flora to pick up after him.
From there he went into the bathroom, turned on the shower, adjusted it until it was mostly steam and crawled in. When he emerged, she was there, slouched against the frame of the door, holding two cups of coffee.
Flora Saint Quentin looked, from all reference points, like someone who had been dead for several hours. There was a distorting puffiness about her full face and dark brooding circles under her eyes where the no longer

 
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