One of Us Is Dead

Instead, Taylor was staring at the back of the head of a man sitting six rows in front of him. Transfixed.

Even though he hadn’t yet had a chance to see the man’s face clearly — the man was wearing dark glasses, a scarf and a baseball cap — Taylor was certain it was Rufus Rorke. His old school friend. Except it couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible.

The man inclined his head slightly to the left, as if resting it on his shoulder — the quirky way Rufus had always done when he was composing a reply to something someone had just said. And now Taylor was even more sure. It was Rufus, it absolutely was!

Except it could not be. Rufus Rorke had been dead for two years. Taylor had given the eulogy at his funeral.