Free The Secret of Kolney Hatch by Stefani Milan Page B

with folded arms as she tapped her foot against her elderberry red bedroom carpet. She stood just to the right of her husband so he could see her in the tall standing mirror as he buttoned his white shirt.
    Yes, Phillip had finally come home, but only to change his clothes. Sure , Petunia thought,  home to grab his things and then he’d b e off on another one of his escapades .
    He hadn’t greeted Petunia, hadn’t uttered a word to her, hadn’t even looked her in the eyes since he’d been home. Though the timing was problematic, Petunia knew this moment may be her only chance to confront Phillip about Agatha Bates.
    “Phillip, when is the last time you saw Agatha? Did you see her recently? What did you tell the police?”
    Phillip, who fixed his hair in the mirror and still refused to look at Petunia, realized that Petunia needed to be distracted. His forehead formed a crease then, and he spoke in his deep, all-pervading voice.
    “Did you get a paper today, Petunia? I want to read about what’s going on with the general strike.”
    “Phillip, don’t ignore my questions.”
    The heavy rain had left a damp, oppressive air in the house, and Petunia fanned her face with her hand before pushing a piece of her black hair away from her cheek—a hair that refused to stay in her bun.
    “I don’t want to talk about it right now…with you especially.”
    Petunia decided she needed to stand her ground this time.        
    “Phillip, I am still your wife. I deserve to know what’s going on.”
    Phillip smirked at her then. Oh how Petunia hated when he smirked.
    “My affair with Agatha is none of your business.”

Petunia wagged her chubby finger in front of him. “When the constable shows up at my  door asking about your  missing prostitute,” she snapped, “I don’t care any longer whether or not you feel like talking about your affairs.”
     “Now that’s enough!” Phillip shouted as he slammed his fists down on the small wooden table next to the tall mirror, making Petunia jump. He lingered there for a moment before taking a deep breath and turning back toward the mirror.
    She liked him least when he displayed his temper—it was an angry Phillip that frightened her most.
    “I just…” she tried to say calmly, “I just need to know the truth Phillip, please.”
    “What does the truth matter?” He said as he turned to face Petunia. His icy, empty stare was all too familiar.
    “I need to know if everyone will know…if my life will change.”
    “Oh so that’s what this is about? I’d hate to see you destitute and for your busybody friends to dislike you, Petunia.”
     “Did you murder her?” Petunia asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
    Phillip’s rabid laugh startled Petunia.
    “Did I…are you mad?” He said, running his hands through his salt and pepper hair out of frustration. “Me, murder  Agatha? Huh. I was crazy about her, Petunia. I’m devastated that she’s gone missing. Now keep out of my business, you old nosey parker.”
    Many years ago, this comment would have stung Petunia’s heart so deeply; she would have cried for days. Now, she told herself she felt nothing, and she did feel nothing, well, almost nothing.
    She turned her back towards him so he would not see the single tear that escaped down her cheek. She decided to go downstairs to the drawing room and close the door until Phillip left the house. At least she knew he wouldn’t be back for the evening.
    “Where are you going?” he asked her testily.
    “Downstairs.”
    “Stay right where you are. I’m not finished speaking,” he said as he fixed his tie once more, and put his suit jacket on top. “I need you to attend a party with me three weeks from today at the Loxley mansion. The Loxleys are one of my wealthiest clients, so don’t even think about declining this request. And don’t give me that face, Petunia; this is part of our bargain, the reason you still have this musty house and food to