The Quotient Of Murder (Professor Sophie Knowles) - Plot & Excerpts
Virgil said, as he drove my car toward my home. Easy for him say. My home might even now be harboring an intruder. What if someone was there, hurting Bruce at this moment? How could I be sure the guy had left? Or that he wouldn’t come back for regular visits? “Are you spacing out?” Virgil asked. “I’m trying.” I focused on the winter trees and their bare branches, which made beautiful shadows on the snow. I noticed the few places where the snow hadn’t been trampled on, like the lawn of an elementary school, closed for the weekend. I imagined kids arriving later to build a snow fort or make snow angels. But not even all the angels, painted and sculpted, on display or in storage at the MFA could calm me down. I tried preparing myself for the worst at my house—tables and chairs tipped over; dishes and vases in shatters; drawers and lamps overturned; carpets, pillows, and draperies slashed. I was on my way to mirrors with threatening messages written in blood, when I felt the car lurch.
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