Something lay on the floor, in the shadows near the table. She tumbled over it before she saw it. Her fingers touched a smooth, worn shaft of wood, and the underside felt warm and wet. Then she touched satin, the pleats of a dress. Dim light crept past her from the hall, and she could see it now - it was Aunt Ivy. Verity knew at once her aunt was dead. It was an ugly death. She had not been strangled, it was worse than that...
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