Read Online Never Neck at Niagara by Edie Claire - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Edie Claire
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first?"
The blanket hit him square in the face and wrapped partway around his neck. "I'm just being practical," she answered with a half smile. I'm not married to the bitch."
A stab of pain shot through Leigh's distorted spine, but she barely noticed. The pillow talk—and her stomach—had taken a disturbing turn.
"Not much longer, babe," the man said soothingly, tucking the blanket under one arm and pulling the woman to him. "It'll all be over."
She kissed him, long and lewdly, and Leigh shut her eyes again. After a moment, the woman giggled in a coquettish tone. Evidently she could live up (or down) to her teenybopper outfit whenever she chose. "You really think they'll spot her from Maid of the Mist ?"
"Nah," the man said jovially. "By tomorrow dear old Marjory will probably be bobbing around in the whirlpool."
Leigh fought back images of a woman's corpse being sucked under the rough waters that circled downstream from the falls. Surely they were just joking. The two shared another laugh and—from the sound of it—another kiss, as Leigh struggled to keep the bile down in her throat.
Then the woman's voice turned serious again. "Don't mess this up, Roger," she said quietly. "You know I don't like giving ultimatums, but this was the only way. You run the business with me, or there is no business to run. Remember?"
The man answered just as softly, but even with her eyes closed, Leigh could sense a deep anger simmering beneath his words. "I know exactly where things stand," he said slowly. "And you know perfectly well that blowing the whistle now means big money down the drain. Your money."
"Ah," said the woman wistfully, " My money. I like the sound of that."
The two moved off, their words and the woman's giggles being increasingly muffled by both their footfalls and the sudden, stiff breeze. It was safe for Leigh to move now, but for a moment she simply sat, the wind robbing any remaining warmth from her body. The hairs on the back of her neck stood stiffly at attention, and her mouth was so dry her tongue seemed glued in place.
His wife, she thought with grim amazement. He was going to kill his wife. If he didn't, sweet Ash the chameleon was going to blow the whistle on their affair. Then he would be out of business—a business she wanted a piece of.
Grabbing the limb with stiff hands, Leigh relaxed her back and let the rest of her body slip off the branch. She hung only a second to break her fall, then jumped to the ground. Adultery. Extortion. Murder . The last word resonated painfully in her muddled head. She sank down at the base of the tree, careful to avoid the spot with the X-rating, as the conversation repeated itself over and over in her mind. Was someone named Roger really about to kill someone named Marjory, or had she imagined it? Misinterpreted it? Could they have just been joking?
That didn't seem likely.
Her knees knocked as she sat, and a shiver rocked her shoulders. She couldn't just sit here. She had to do something, didn't she?
With difficulty and without a plan, she struggled to her feet and started walking. It didn't matter if they saw her now, she reasoned. They'd have no idea that she had witnessed their conversation, much less their other indiscretion. She would merely be another sightseer.
Her steps quickened, and by the time she reached the path at the edge of the island, she could see them ahead clearly. They were walking arm in arm, the woman alternately laughing and laying her head on his shoulder. As they crossed one of the lagoon bridges and strode towards the almost empty parking lot, Leigh doubled back on the path and walked farther along the island, heading for a different bridge. She had just finished crossing it when the van the two had boarded roared past her on the narrow road.
Jumping quickly to the curb, she strained to read the license plate, but was frustrated to find the numbers a blur—and her driving glasses in the Cavalier. Though she was only mildly
The blanket hit him square in the face and wrapped partway around his neck. "I'm just being practical," she answered with a half smile. I'm not married to the bitch."
A stab of pain shot through Leigh's distorted spine, but she barely noticed. The pillow talk—and her stomach—had taken a disturbing turn.
"Not much longer, babe," the man said soothingly, tucking the blanket under one arm and pulling the woman to him. "It'll all be over."
She kissed him, long and lewdly, and Leigh shut her eyes again. After a moment, the woman giggled in a coquettish tone. Evidently she could live up (or down) to her teenybopper outfit whenever she chose. "You really think they'll spot her from Maid of the Mist ?"
"Nah," the man said jovially. "By tomorrow dear old Marjory will probably be bobbing around in the whirlpool."
Leigh fought back images of a woman's corpse being sucked under the rough waters that circled downstream from the falls. Surely they were just joking. The two shared another laugh and—from the sound of it—another kiss, as Leigh struggled to keep the bile down in her throat.
Then the woman's voice turned serious again. "Don't mess this up, Roger," she said quietly. "You know I don't like giving ultimatums, but this was the only way. You run the business with me, or there is no business to run. Remember?"
The man answered just as softly, but even with her eyes closed, Leigh could sense a deep anger simmering beneath his words. "I know exactly where things stand," he said slowly. "And you know perfectly well that blowing the whistle now means big money down the drain. Your money."
"Ah," said the woman wistfully, " My money. I like the sound of that."
The two moved off, their words and the woman's giggles being increasingly muffled by both their footfalls and the sudden, stiff breeze. It was safe for Leigh to move now, but for a moment she simply sat, the wind robbing any remaining warmth from her body. The hairs on the back of her neck stood stiffly at attention, and her mouth was so dry her tongue seemed glued in place.
His wife, she thought with grim amazement. He was going to kill his wife. If he didn't, sweet Ash the chameleon was going to blow the whistle on their affair. Then he would be out of business—a business she wanted a piece of.
Grabbing the limb with stiff hands, Leigh relaxed her back and let the rest of her body slip off the branch. She hung only a second to break her fall, then jumped to the ground. Adultery. Extortion. Murder . The last word resonated painfully in her muddled head. She sank down at the base of the tree, careful to avoid the spot with the X-rating, as the conversation repeated itself over and over in her mind. Was someone named Roger really about to kill someone named Marjory, or had she imagined it? Misinterpreted it? Could they have just been joking?
That didn't seem likely.
Her knees knocked as she sat, and a shiver rocked her shoulders. She couldn't just sit here. She had to do something, didn't she?
With difficulty and without a plan, she struggled to her feet and started walking. It didn't matter if they saw her now, she reasoned. They'd have no idea that she had witnessed their conversation, much less their other indiscretion. She would merely be another sightseer.
Her steps quickened, and by the time she reached the path at the edge of the island, she could see them ahead clearly. They were walking arm in arm, the woman alternately laughing and laying her head on his shoulder. As they crossed one of the lagoon bridges and strode towards the almost empty parking lot, Leigh doubled back on the path and walked farther along the island, heading for a different bridge. She had just finished crossing it when the van the two had boarded roared past her on the narrow road.
Jumping quickly to the curb, she strained to read the license plate, but was frustrated to find the numbers a blur—and her driving glasses in the Cavalier. Though she was only mildly
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