White Dog Fell from the Sky by Eleanor Morse

What does that mean to avenge a death - kill once, twice, three times more? Where does it end?

***

"Please don't go. I'm sorry about last night." 
Her eyes flashed. "You might have been describing a cow heading for the Meat Commission. I thought you were a different sort of man. If I'd known that's how you felt, I wouldn't have wasted a minute with you."

"That's not how I feel. Roger wanted to know what you looked like."

"And how would Roger even know I existed if Roger hadn't been told?"

"He wouldn't have. You were on my mind."

Something crossed her face, swiftly replaced by rage. Her voice shook. "You said it like an auctioneer. 'The woman's American, recently divorced.' The woman. As though you don't even know me. Gray hair. Already over the hill. Oh, nice body. But big bones. A lady wrestler. Or maybe an orangutan. And then your old boy laughter. You and Roger, whoever the hell that was, yucking it up at my expense. You're a royal prick, you know that?"

She'd already turned to leave when he said, "I know that. Worse than that. I'm an insensitive lout, a cad, a muttonhead, a piss poor specimen of a man, a foul-mouthed and calumnious knave. If I were a dog, I'd have me put down."

"Good. Now leave me alone." He thought a hint of a smile had flitted over her lips. Her footsteps departed, and he watched her climb into the Land Rover.