The Godmother

Euphemia Ffinch focused on her target, knowing she must shoot quickly. Her quarry had taken cover in the acacia but might be off again at any moment. Her hand was steady as she adjusted her aim… and shot.

Satisfied, she relaxed back into the one comfortable chair on the wooden veranda and replaced the camera on the low table beside her.

Picking up the gilt-edged card that lay there, she re-read the invitation. It had arrived today from a former life live...