The Day I Murdered My Daughter
Late summer, 2003. It was a beautiful evening, we were just sitting down to tea - Me, Mrs. S, and my two daughters. From where I was sitting, I could see the front door, and I noticed two men approaching up the drive. Black trousers, white shirts and ties. One of them was carrying a clipboard.
One of them knocked on the door, quite hard. “Not more double-glazing salesmen,” I said, “I’ll get rid of them”. We’d had quite a rash of them lately; double-glazing, fascias, driveways, patios, gutters; you name it, we’d had it several times over. You’d think they’d have got the message by now.
Anyway, I went to the door. “Hello?” I said.
Clipboard flashed his warrant card. “Thames Valley CID. Can we have a word?” The other guy, a little older, with glasses, also produced a warrant card.
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