She would take the items with her; bury the items and her bloodstained clothes in one of the many sinkholes in the huge landfill/garbage dump on the south side of town. "All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. ’ ‘Will you indeed? Truly?’ His smile held so much tenderness, she was tempted to surrender at once. Melusine—the real Melusine—evidently did not see him immediately, for her attention was on her descent from the high vehicle. ’ ‘Ain’t it? Want me to give you some time with her? Not that I think she’ll tell you anything. “Yes,” he said, “I want to get away. The last piece was Scheherazade. She laid her hand upon his arm. Such a time that it takes for them to go. “She has nothing to be afraid of,” he continued.
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