K. P. Hall

Deadly Diva K. P. Hall

She looked into the ornate bronze casket. Her father's face was serene, relaxed. She reached in, placed her hand on his, felt the waxy cold skin. There were muted whispers behind her, the old ladies weeping, her father's business partners murmuring. "So devoted to each other." "Sad, so sad. What a pity for her." "She loved him so much. Such a tragedy." The cloying smell of roses, carnations and mums began to overpower her and she gripped the edges of the casket as she started to swoon. Strong arms reached out to brace and steady her. She pulled free and bent down to the body within the casket, placed her mouth next to the waxy ear, felt the cold skin on her lips. "You bastard, I should have killed you years ago," she whispered in her father's ear.