9 <2> THE UNTIMELY DEMISE OF RAY PLOTE Later that night after the dishes were washed and the garbage taken out, Lucy and the Beck's natural daughter retired to their shared bedroom. We were alike. About two weeks ago. A very familiar face emerged from a crowd at the impromptu bar on the kitchen island. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. Anna, in her strange striking way, was radiantly beautiful. "Hear me out," said Jonathan. Some of them are now buried at the bottom of the Thames. ‘Do you need an excuse?’ ‘Oh, you know what doctors are. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt.
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