Never Neck at Niagara Read Free Page B

woman was dead, she couldn't help but be relieved at not having been a party to that particular tragedy.
    "I'll be right there, Officer," she said firmly.
     
    ***
     
    Her hands shook a little as she drove the Cavalier over the Peace Bridge back into the United States. Thankfully, it was still early, and the line at customs was short. A tour bus idled up in the queue next to her, and she somehow wasn't surprised to note that it was a Purple Mist. Since yesterday she had noticed two of them driving about, their striking eggplant color making them easy to spot. Like most local tour busses, they shuttled regularly between the U.S. and Canadian falls. But unlike most of the other busses, Purple Mist tours appeared to cater exclusively to foreign tourists. Both of the busses she had seen yesterday had carried Japanese families, while all the occupants of the current bus appeared to be from India.
    A female passenger with a red dot on her forehead stuck a camera up to the bus window and aimed it at the customs booth, and Leigh's mind began to drift to something curious that Ashley had said. She was just about to remember it when the radio station she had been listening to began its newscast.
    "Police have identified the woman whose body was pulled from the base of the horseshoe falls late last night as twenty-three-year-old Ashley Whitener, a resident of Fort Erie, Ontario. Ms. Whitener was employed as an assistant manager at the Niagara Sun Diner in Niagara Falls, Ontario; she was last seen Saturday morning by her roommate as she left their apartment, ostensibly to go running. Investigators have not yet determined whether foul play was involved in Ms. Whitener's death; autopsy results are pending."
    Leigh's mind raced. Ashley Whitener. Twenty-three years old. It could be a coincidence, she reasoned. There must be any number of twenty-something Ashleys in the area—there was no reason to assume it was Roger's Ashley. If she hadn't first thought the dead woman was Marjory, it would never even have occurred to her.
    She drove on, answering the custom agent's questions mechanically as she continued to convince herself that pink-halter Ashley was still alive, well, and committing adultery without remorse. Why shouldn't she be? She was Roger's choice, after all. It was Marjory he wanted out of the picture. Marjory the confused and disoriented…
    Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as she navigated the scenic bridge that crossed from mainland New York to Goat Island, suspending cars above a vigorously churning arm of the upper Niagara River. Dangerous rapids surrounded all of Goat Island, a fact which only lent to its beauty and fascination. Throw a floating object from the island in any direction and its destination would be the same—over and down. Way down.
    She located the building the officer had directed her to, parked, and jumped out quickly. She was still about fifty yards from the door when a disheveled woman in a bright-colored suit charged out from around the back of the building, running at top speed. Leigh stared at her curiously for a moment before realizing who she was.
    "Marjory!" she called out frantically, giving chase. Where were the officers, and how had she given them the slip? Leigh glanced back over her shoulder as she ran, but saw no one. Confused and disoriented indeed. Marjory appeared to have lost it completely, and in this place if somebody didn't stop her soon, she could be in a good deal of danger.
    Leigh continued to follow the fleeing woman, calling out her name and begging her to stop. But Marjory flew on, appearing to hear none of it. When they reached the first bridge to the chain of tiny islands known as Three Sisters, Leigh felt an additional wave of panic . Not there, please . Anywhere but there.
    On any ordinary occasion, the little islands were one of Leigh's favorite parts of the park. Encased in swirling rapids and edged with huge rocks, the islands had ambience to spare. But for