Her hand slid down into the narrow space between the far side of her bed and the wall and her fingers caressed the stock of Clive’s shotgun.
She drew it up quite slowly.
When Welling saw it, his first instinct was to try to grab it. Then he changed his mind and made for the door. As he was trying to open it, Laura, resting the gun on the rail at the foot of her bed, discharged both barrels into the small of his back.
“Did you guess he’d come to see her?” said Bracknell. “And did you know she’d got hold of Clive’s gun?”
“No to both questions,” said Fearne. “I’m not a prophet or a mind reader. One thing I do know. We shall have to get busy now organising her defence.”
“She’ll get a lot of sympathy from the jury,” said Bracknell.