Lily of the Valley By Taryn Uhlmann

‘The Flowers lay upon her grave,  Their scent remiss, afloat.  Her being a spread of inky reminiscence,  Her killer looked on with gloat.’   Detective Rikard drummed thick fingers on the melamine table, contemplating, then leaned back folding his arms, looking into the lucid eyes before him.   Both men stared at each other for a...