As Dr Helen Wilkinson stands over the body of her husband Edward it is just as she had imagined it so many times before. He looks calm, asleep almost, for his eyes are closed, his hands folded neatly on top of the fresh sheets. And yet something isn't right: in her fantasies there was never so much blood.
Edward had had few friends at St Werburgh's College, where he was Professor of Biology. He was a manipulative and sadistic man who delighted in the humiliation of others. Many wished him dead. But Helen has fantasized, planned and committed the crime so many times in her head she doesn't know what is real any more. And now she is the prime suspect.
How can she convince the police she didn't murder her husband - when she doesn't know herself . . .?
