She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook. “What about blood banks? Have you ever tried them?” “I don’t just take blood, John. What had shifted his casual interest was the visible prospect of a party of three who were coming down the packet gangplank. She did not forge a note. He heard the panting of the donkey-engine, then the slithering of the anchor chains. I’ve wanted you—always. The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. ‘I am not a murderer. She looked about and discovered a door partially hidden by shadow.
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