She closed the front door behind her with a sigh. Emptying her handbag onto the sideboard revealed a powder compact, a lipstick, some lip balm, and a loose penny, which landed on its side and stood upright.

“That’s supposed to be lucky,” said her husband, handing her a drink.

“I could use some good fortune after the day I’ve had,” she laughed.

Her husband nodded, downing his own whisky. Toasting himself silently, willing her to drink the poison-laden glass. He hadn’t noticed he’d given her the wrong one.