She hadn't had time to tie a bow through her thick, blond tresses; she could only hope her Mother wouldn't notice this single, insignificant oversight... Not much chance of that, though; Mummy's eyes were sharp. She never missed a thing.Jessie skittered over to stand before the SPANKING CHAIR with her face downcast and her hands clasped protectively over her bottom. She tried to shrink inside herself, look as small and harmless as possible. It wouldn't do any good, wouldn't lessen her sentence by. ’ ‘You drink it often?’ ‘Every evening since ….’ Grief swept across her face like tumbleweeds on the plains of Texas. ‘Every evening since my brother died.’ ‘Peter Schmidt?’ ‘Yes. How d-did … wait. Now I remember you. You are Mr. Gafferson, the man who was there the night Peter was killed.’ With the lamps in her brain finally switched on, her face performed a three-act play: the poker game, Moe’s car, Mona’s house. ‘I was bleeding. It hurt so badly. Another man carried me out. We were in a car,. More

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