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The Solomon Silver Case

Her expression was filled with contempt as she stared down at the body of the young man, the dead eyes open, his head in a pool of blood. She placed the revolver into her purse and looked around to see if there was anything that would reveal her presence. On the small writing desk by the bed she saw a single sheet of hotel stationery with her name on it. Her eyes widened as she read the words. She turned to look at the body again as she crushed the sheet into a ball with one gloved hand and stuffed it into her purse.

“After all I’ve done for you, this is my reward?” she whispered hoarsely. “We’ll see. You could have had everything if only you’d listened to me.” Her hands were clenched into fists. She stepped around the body and went to the door, peering out into the corridor; it was deserted. Closing the door behind her, she listened to the lock fall into place. Knowing she needed to leave the fifth floor of the hotel without drawing attention to herself, she took the stairs to the second floor, made her way to the opposite end of the corridor and down the stairs to the ground floor, well away from the main section of the lobby. It was a busy hotel, so her presence should go unnoticed. She left the building and crossed the street to where her car was parked. As she passed a sewer, she dropped the gun and surreptitiously kicked it into the opening before continuing to her car. “The ingrate,” she muttered as she pulled out of the parking lot. “We’ll see who has the last word.”

She glanced at her wristwatch and realized the time: she would need an alibi. She would have to convince the police that she couldn’t possibly have done this. She smiled, knowing who she would blame as she manoeuvred through the downtown Toronto traffic.