Part 103 (1/2)
”And that other girl was the body we put in Leslie's grave in London”
muttered Whiteside.
”We knew we weren't burying the real Leslie. We didn't have any idea where the real Leslie was. Not until just now. But back then, back in 1974, we took the chance that Sandler and Company had thought they'd executed the right girl.
We wanted as many people as possible to believe that she'd been killed ”Including me,” said Thomas, thinking back to the churchyard.
”Of course' said Whiteside, his eyebrows raised.
”We didn't know who you were. We only knew that you had b.l.o.o.d.y good information.
No way in the world we wanted an enlightened stranger to think the real Leslie McAdam was still alive.” Whiteside pondered it for a moment, then continued.
”Similarly, Daniels, we've been following you ever since, which hasn't been easy. We wanted to look at your ”Leslie' before anyone else got too close a look.”
”And equally you wanted me to think my'Leslie'was an impostor,”
said Thomas.
”We didn't want you spreading the word that the real Leslie was alive,”
countered Whiteside tersely.
.I was thinking of attending the interment,” Leslie backtracked sourly.
”I was curious who'd care enough to come. But Mr. La.s.siter insisted.
I left the country the night the murder was discovered. I went back to Montreal. As far as everyone was concerned,” she said, ”I was dead”
She reflected happily.
”It was marvelous. For once no one was looking for me. If you're already dead, no one bothers you.”
”Usually. Not always said Thomas, arms folded, looking her in the eye.
He could hear the chipping downstairs. The dead would rise in more ways than one before the next sunset. He was
”Perceptive, Thomas,” she answered
”You're catching on' ”It's about time, don't you think?”
Intense hammering and chipping rose from below.
Leslie concluded.
”Months pa.s.sed. Mr. La.s.siter told me to live as quietly and normally as I could. What they were waiting for was a natural and infallible way to smoke out Arthur Sandler. They were waiting for-” ”Victoria to die” said Thomas triumphantly.
”May I continue?”
A portrait of Victoria from forty years earlier gazed down from the wall, a tart sneer of disapproval on her lips, the usual vacuity through the eyes.
”Continue,” said Whiteside, trying to calm Leslie.