flashed. 'Somebody's calling late,' he said. 'Do you want me to get it?'
'No, that's all right. Just pour out the wine. It's probably Marcella, forgotten something. She'll forget her head one day.'
She went downstairs and opened the front door. A man in a brown coat was standing outside with a large bunch of yellow roses.
'Holly Summers?' he asked.
'That's me.'
'Present from Ned,' the man said. He lifted the bunch of roses and shot her in the face at point-blank range, in an explosive shower of yellow petals.
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