No more surprises, please?

…

Meetings, legal jiggery-pokery, dealing with recalcitrant and obstructive people, figuring out how to deal with people, the sort of skills Michael never acquired because he never really needed them, leave him exhausted, angry, and seriously considering going into hiding.

Accepting the role of fixer-upper of all things Agatha had not turned out to be the two-day doddle he was expecting.

That dive into the even murkier world of high finance, the rich and powerful, the aristocracy, what not-for-profits were supposed to be about, and somehow strayed from the path of good, and into something else, was an education in itself.

Perhaps it was his ‘outside the window’ view that gave him the edge over all the slick talking and fast-talking that people in the business seemed to do so well, baffling people from his side of the tracks with what could only be described as bullshit.

But that was not the worst of it.

A knock on the door to his new, but self-proclaimed temporary residence, delivers Howard with an envelope that has the sort of news that had that ‘knock the wind out of you’ effect.

Agatha was murdered.

…

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