Never Neck at Niagara Read Free

existed, but she'd never met one. She hoped her husband hadn't either.
    "Is there anything else?" Marjory asked politely, clearly ready to be relieved of her unwelcome visitor.
    "Yes," Leigh exclaimed, flustered. "I didn't come here to tell you your husband was fooling around." He was, of course, but it was hardly the point of her visit. She took another deep breath. "I came here to tell you that I think he's trying to kill you."
    The woman's smug features dissolved, and for a brief moment, Leigh could see fear flash across her dark brown eyes. But just as quickly, a look of calm confidence returned. "That's ridiculous," she answered softly. "What exactly did you hear?"
    Leigh repeated an edited version of the conversation, and grew increasingly uneasy as she did so. Roger had told Ash that her blowing the whistle now would cost them money, and Leigh had assumed that was because once his wife found out about the affair he would lose his half of the tour business. But given Marjory's liberal attitude toward matrimony, that theory didn't wash. So what exactly was Ash threatening to blow the whistle on? Leigh looked into Marjory's carefully concentrating face. Perhaps Roger had been cheating on his wife in more ways than one. Had he been stealing from his own company? Or was there something shady about Purple Mist Tours in general? And if so, did Marjory even know about it?
    The walls of the office seemed suddenly closer, and Leigh's fight or flight mechanism kicked in. If there was something illegal going on with Purple Mist Tours, she had no desire to know about it. Marjory was on her own. "That's all I know, I'm afraid," she said quickly, rising.
    Marjory's face went blank, and she sat down heavily in her svelte office chair. The reality of what Leigh was saying appeared to have finally sunk in. "I can't believe this," she said weakly. "I really can't believe it."
    "I'm sorry," Leigh offered helplessly.
    "We should call the police," Marjory said weakly. "Shouldn't we?"
    Leigh nodded. She knew she had to call the police, she just hadn't yet. Warning Marjory had been priority one, and far more effective, because the cops wouldn't do squat anyway. They would simply give her the standard speech about not being able to prosecute people for potential crimes, write up a report to placate her, and send her on her way. And given her well-established rapport with law enforcement officials—or more accurately, lack thereof—she would probably tick them off royally in the process. Nevertheless, they had to be told. If Roger ever did succeed in his quest, the report could be valuable evidence against him.
    "Yes, we should," she answered.
    Marjory said nothing for a moment, then announced, more to herself than to Leigh, "I'll call them and get a restraining order."
    Leigh smiled. She might just get out of this office and get out of dealing with the police, too. "Good idea." She pulled a pen and yellow sticky note off Marjory's desk and wrote down her name and hotel room number. "Have them contact me if they want a statement about what I heard, okay?"
    Marjory didn't answer, but sat limply, staring at a spot on the wall. "I was supposed to meet him later today," she said faintly, her face alarmingly pale despite her makeup. "We were going out to dinner. It's—" she stopped a moment, her lower lip quivering slightly. "It's our anniversary."
    Blood rushed into Leigh's cheeks, and she squirmed in discomfort. "I'm so sorry," she offered again. "Please be careful. And do call the police right away."
    Marjory managed to snap out of her funk and look back at her through moist eyes. "Thank you," she said, extending a cold hand for Leigh to shake. "I appreciate all you've done." She took the sticky note off the desk, folded it neatly, and slipped it into her suit's breast pocket.
    "No problem," Leigh answered with a forced smile. She headed for the door, and once safely on the other side took off as fast as her feet would carry