C. T. Grout

Consequences

The funeral was mercifully short and so was his temper. James leaned back in his father’s desk chair and gulped his whisky. Mona had left out a sandwich and the bottle for him, perhaps hoping it might improve his mood. The study was an absolute mess, his father’s usual fastidious nature seemed to have abandoned him in the last years of his life. It was going to take hours to get through it all.