The Strange Story of Linda Lee

by Dennis Wheatley

  After remaining silent for a while, he said, ‘I think I told you I own a motor launch. Given a bit of luck and a dark night, I could run you across the lake.’

  Her face brightened, then fell. ‘That would be marvellous, but I don’t think I ought to let you. If we were caught you would be sent to prison, too.’

  ‘I don’t think so. Not if we stuck to the story we agreed on last night. I wouldn’t then be charged with aiding a wanted criminal to escape, only with having fallen for a pretty girl who had told me a cock-and-bull story about trying to get home while running away from a man she hated. After one look at you, I’d have the sympathy of the jury, and be let off with a fine.’

  ‘If you really think that, I’ll accept your offer.’

  ‘That’s settled then. We’ve got to get through today, though. I’d give a packet to spend it with you here, but I’m afraid that would be running too great a risk. You see, although no-one can have taken the number of my car, there can’t be many like it in Toronto, so by now the police will be making enquiries of everyone who owns a scarlet sports model. I ought to have thought of that before. Anyhow, the sooner we get out of here, the better.’

  ‘I see. Yes, you’re right. But where can we go?’

  ‘Have you ever been to Niagara Falls?’

  Linda shook her head.

  ‘Then I’ll drive you there. It’s less than forty miles, and the view from the Canadian side is much better than that from the States. We won’t go in my car, though. Too risky. I’ll hire one with my Hertz card.’

  They dressed as quickly as they could, and Linda packed her new possessions in the pigskin case, then they went down in the lift. The porter was not in evidence, so they slipped out by a back entrance. Ten minutes’ walk brought them to a garage where Colin was not known. He produced the Hertz card he used in distant cities, or when abroad, and they were soon on their way south, by by-roads on the outskirts of the city, in order to avoid its well-policed centre.

  As it was a pleasant autumn day, instead of heading direct for the Falls after passing through Oakville, Hamilton and St. Catherine’s, he made a detour down to the frontier post on the outskirts of Buffalo, so that he could take her along the drive on the Canadian side of the broad river. Well back from the road, there was mile after mile of beautiful homes set in fine gardens, with swimming pools and ornamental trees. Opposite them, on the river bank, there were more lovely trees with here and there pleasant sites arranged for parties to picnic in the summer. Linda thought it one of the loveliest stretches of scenery she had ever seen and, as Colin drove along slowly, they did not arrive at Niagara until after half past one.

  In front of the hotel and on both sides of it charming gardens had been laid out. They lunched there in a glassed-in terrace, off fresh trout and another bottle of the Canadian Sauternes, Domain St. Martin, that Linda had so much enjoyed in Vancouver. Before them lay the splendid prospect of the Falls, marred only by the centre being obscured by the great clouds of spray sent up by the millions of tons of water descending from the river over the sheer, horseshoe cliff.

  As they were finishing lunch, Colin asked Linda what she meant to do if he succeeded that night in putting her ashore in the States. She told him that when she had come to Canada from Boston, her parents had returned to England; and, in case the Canadian authorities did trace and make trouble for her, she would not risk going to any friends she had made while in America. So, for the time being, she must find a place for herself, and lie low there.

  ‘You’re right,’ he nodded. ‘But I was thinking of the immediate future. How about my telephoning the Hilton in Buffalo to keep a room for you, and say that you will be arriving tomorrow morning?’

  ‘That’s a good idea. I wish you would. But it had better be in another name. What shall it be?’

  ‘Venus,’ he suggested with a laugh.

  ‘Hardly, although it’s a charming compliment. Let’s say … let’s say, Mrs. Gene Wellard.’

  While Colin telephoned, Linda went to the ladies’ cloakroom. She had told the woman there that she had been in a car smash, and asked if, while they lunched, something could be done about her fur coat. Scenting a good tip, the attendant had sewn up the tear and removed from the mink most of the smears that Linda had been unable to get out with a brush during her train journey.

  Late in the afternoon they drove slowly back to Hamilton. There, at a pleasant restaurant, they lingered over cocktails and dinner. A little after ten o’clock, they set off again. About half-way to Toronto, Colin turned off the highway down a lane that led to a wood. Linda had no reason to be apprehensive, so her voice was quite normal as she asked, ‘Where are you taking me?’

  He slowed down a little and replied, ‘Well, we daren’t make a start from the yacht basin until after midnight, and maybe in a few hours we will have parted for good. The back seat of a car is not my favourite place for making love but, well … I thought perhaps. But if you’d rather not …’

  She laid her hand on his and pressed it. ‘I’m not quite such a naughty girl as I may have led you to suppose, so I’ve never done it in the back seat of a car. But I gather plenty of couples do. I like you a lot, Colin, and this may be our last chance; so let’s have fun while we can. There’s one thing, though. When you pull up among the trees, give me a few minutes to get ready before you join me.’

  Linda had made this stipulation because her briefs were still in ribbons where the lorry-driver had torn them away to get at her. She had not liked to ask Colin to buy her new ones the previous afternoon, and did not want him to find them in such a shocking state. Among the trees, he remained seated at the wheel, while she got into the back, wriggled out of them, stuffed them in a pocket of her coat, then called to him.

  To use the phrase of the famous Duke of Marlborough when, on returning from the wars on the Continent, he met his wife at Margate, ‘I pleasured her twice while still in my breeches and boots.’ So did Colin to Linda in the next hour or so. Then, silent but happy, they slowly drove on to Toronto.

  When they reached the yacht harbour no-one was about. Remarking that it was lucky she had not come on the scene a week later, as in a few days he would be making arrangements to have the launch laid up for the winter, he handed her down into it. After a few minutes they were out on the open waters of the lake.

  The car had been heated and, while it had been stationary, it had been sheltered by the trees in the little wood. But a sharp wind was blowing, and out on the water it was bitterly cold. Colin set a course southeast and told Linda that he hoped to land her between the small towns of Wilson and Olcott, a trip of about thirty-five miles. In either town she should be able to get a bus that would run her the twenty-five miles into Buffalo.

  They were not far out from Toronto when the snow, predicted the day before by the porter at Colin’s block of flats, began to fall. Linda, huddled in the cabin, shivered and drew her fur coat more closely about her; but Colin said it was a good thing, because it would give them a better chance of evading the Revenue cutters that patrolled both shores, on the look-out for smugglers. Twice, through the murk, they caught sight of distant searchlights sweeping the water, but were too far off to be picked up, and the launch was forging ahead with her own lights out.

  Having fished the lake for years Colin knew it well, and he hoped to land Linda on a stretch of sandy shore not far from Wilson; but without lights, in the darkness and drifting snow he could not make certain of finding it. A denser darkness suddenly looming up warned him that there was land immediately ahead. Quickly he checked the launch, reversed, then steered her at low speed along the coast. Presently he made Linda take the wheel and himself went forward with a boathook to sound the depth and test the type of bottom. For a while he struck rock about four feet down, then came upon sand. Returning to the wheel, he nosed the launch in until she grounded about ten feet from the shore.

  Linda looked across the dark stretch of choppy water with dismay, but Colin had thrown out the ancho
r and was now taking off his shoes. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I’ll carry you.’

  ‘I weigh a ton,’ she murmured unhappily, ‘and you’ll get frozen.’

  ‘I’ll manage,’ he assured her, getting out of his trousers. Then he slipped over the side and held out his arms to her. She put hers round his neck and pressed her cold check against his. As he took her full weight, he nearly dropped her, but righted himself and staggered with her to the shore. The water was icy and as he set her down his teeth were chattering.

  ‘Oh, darling,’ she whispered, ‘you’re a hero, a real hero.’

  He shook his head with a faint smile. ‘No, just … just an idiot … an idiot who has fallen in love with a girl he may never see again.’

  Turning away, he waded back and fetched her bag; then they embraced and she tried to thank him for all he had done for her, but found her words quite inadequate.

  ‘You’ll … you’ll write to me, won’t you?’ he said. ‘Let me know how you get on. Promise?’

  She nodded, although she knew she would never dare to, any more than she had to Big Bear or her beloved Eric, for fear of letting anyone know where she had gone. She hated herself for all the lies she had told him; but she could not have brought herself to let him know that she was a thief—a real criminal.

  They kissed again and he said that when he was next due for a holiday he would come to the States, and they would have a marvellous time together. She agreed, while knowing sadly that could never be. By then, he was shivering in her arms. Reluctantly he let her go, wished her luck and waded back to the launch.

  She remained standing on the shore until he had hauled up the anchor, started the motor and the faint outline of the boat had disappeared in the darkness.

  Her heart was very heavy. She had got away from the Canadian police and across the frontier into the United States. The chances of her being traced there seemed very slender, so all the odds were now in favour of her keeping her freedom. But she had no passport, no possibility of getting one, and no hope of getting back any of the jewels she had stolen. Her case was far worse than it had been when she first landed in Canada. Then she had had ample funds; now she had only enough money to keep herself for a few weeks.

  The snow was falling faster now, and she did not even know the way to the nearest town. She was alone and friendless in a hostile world. The tears began to trickle down her freezing cheeks.

  Chapter 16

  In It Up to the Neck

  Linda had never felt so near to giving way completely, sitting down there on the ground and crying her heart out. But even now the courage that had already brought her through so many difficulties and dangers did not desert her. In addition to Coastguard launches on the lake, Colin had warned her that there were certain to be anti-smuggling patrols on shore, and in another hour or so first light would herald the dawn. If a patrol came upon her at this hour near the beach and carrying a night case, they would cross-examine her relentlessly, and the fact that she could not produce a passport would inevitably lead to her being taken into custody pending further enquiries. She must get away from the neighbourhood of the lake as swiftly as she could.

  Picking up her case, she turned her back on the lapping water and headed up a dimly-seen slope. The going was tough, for it was over tufts of coarse, frozen grass, from which, here and there, sprouted low bushes. The snow continued to fall. It had lightly covered the ground, helping her to see her way immediately in front of her, but obscuring the lie of the land ahead. For a quarter of an hour she struggled up the slope, then, panting, reached the crest.

  Having rested for a few minutes she plodded on, still over coarse grass, until she came to a road. Turning left along it, she walked for about a mile. By then the snow had eased, falling in only occasional flurries. Between two of the flurries she caught sight of several lights in the distance, and assumed that they were on the outskirts of either Wilson or Olcott.

  For her to go into either of these small towns so early in the morning could have proved dangerous; so she left the road for a nearby haystack and sat down on its lee side, where she was sheltered from the wind. She had not slept since she had woken up in Colin’s bed the previous morning, so she was very tired. Soon, in spite of her anxieties, she dropped off.

  She was roused by the sound of a traction engine clanking along the nearby road. By then it was full daylight. Looking at her watch, she saw that it was half past eight, so she must have slept between three and four hours. Apart from a nasty taste in her mouth, she felt better, but was still filled with apprehension about the immediate future. It was over forty hours since she had left the train at Toronto. During the past day it was certain that the police there would have traced the owner of every red sports car in the city, so would have called to question them all. They would not have found Colin in his apartment, but might have learned from the porter that he had brought a girl there answering her description. Further questioning might have elicited the fact that Colin owned a motor boat and had not been home the previous night. That could have led them to suspect that he had run her across to the States.

  She prayed fervently that, if things had gone like that, he would not get into trouble, then tried to comfort herself with the thought that if he swore he had only put her up for the night and had no idea that the police were after her, there would be nothing with which they could charge him. They could not possibly prove that he had taken her across the lake. Nevertheless, if they suspected that he had, they would by now have got in touch with the American police. So the Americans might be on the look-out for her. If she was caught by them, they would need no warrant of extradition to send her back to Canada. That she had no passport, so could be presumed to have entered the country illegally, would be ample grounds for them to put her back across the frontier.

  Only a quarter of a mile down the road lay the buildings among which she had seen lights a few hours earlier. In considerable trepidation, she set off toward them. They proved to be bungalows and a row of small shops on the edge of a town with street lighting along the pavements. Few people were about and, before she had gone far, she came upon a pastry cook’s, with marble-topped tables inside. The smell of coffee proved irresistible, so she went in, warmed herself up with two large cups and, although she was not hungry as she had had such good meals the previous day, she enjoyed a newly-baked roll with butter. When it came to paying, she suddenly realised that she had only Canadian money. Being so close to the frontier, with people constantly crossing, the waitress accepted it without question; but it gave Linda a nasty jolt, as if the American police were looking for her in that neighbourhood, it just might lead to their getting on her trail.

  Setting off again, she saw from a sign over a garage that she was in Olcott. Near the centre of the little town she found the bus depot and learned that a coach would be leaving for Buffalo in half an hour. Anxious now not to lay a further trail by paying her fare in Canadian money, she went into the only hotel she could see and asked them there to change a twenty-dollar bill for her. To her relief the girl at the desk did so cheerfully and without comment. By ten o’clock she was on her way to Buffalo.

  Although the bus stopped at numerous villages en route, it did the journey in under an hour. As it stopped in the main square the good-natured conductor, realising that she was a foreigner, pointed to a large monument in its centre and told her it was in commemoration of President McKinley, who had been assassinated there by a fanatic in 1901. It was the only thing of interest that she saw during her short stay in Buffalo, which she found a dreary, dirty city.

  The Hilton, which lay on the far side of the square, did not impress her at all favourably. Having booked in as Mrs. Gene Wellard, the name Colin had used when telephoning, she was taken up in a crowded lift to the room he had booked for her. It was quite adequately furnished, but one of the two windows was useless, as it was immediately opposite the windows of another, nearby skyscraper; so, unless the curtains were kept drawn, everything
in the room was exposed to view.

  By the time Linda had unpacked her few things, had a bath, done her hair and dressed again, it was getting on for one o’clock, so she went down to lunch. The big lounge running from one end of the hotel to the other was a seething mass of people. To her surprise, quite a number of well-dressed, middle-aged and elderly men were wearing fancy hats that, had they not been made of materials such as silk, might have come out of Christmas crackers. On passing a notice board she saw the reason. Three conventions were being held in the hotel, so these headdresses, which made men in ordinary lounge suits look so absurd, indicated that they were Grand Wizards, King Bisons, Chief Druids, etc.

  Having now to be very careful of her money, she went into the coffee shop instead of the restaurant. As she had learned in Canada, coffee shops varied from excellent restaurants where one could have a single dish instead of a full table d’hôte lunch, to cafeterias in which no-one but the hard-up would have eaten from choice. While she got through a leathery pancake with maple syrup, she debated her next move.

  That morning she had counted up her money. When she had arrived at Banff she had had with her a little over four hundred dollars. Her stay at Lake Louise and return from Banff to Toronto, including meals on the trains, had cost her something over one hundred and eighty, so she found that she was down to two hundred and thirty-four dollars—just under one hundred pounds.

  Her prime object now was to start yet another new life where any account that she gave of her past would be accepted; so, to avoid becoming noticeable as a stranger with an English accent, she must go to a big city. New York was naturally the first to cross her mind. But there was an objection to it. It was too international. The friends she had made while living with Rowley, and other people they had become acquainted with in big hotels during their trips abroad, were mostly wealthy and travelled a lot. Several of them might have an apartment in, or come on a visit to, New York. It was still less than eight weeks since Rowley had died. The story of her having made off with the jewels must have got into all the papers. Everyone she had known was not likely to forget what she had done. If she settled in New York and good fortune later enabled her to frequent the better restaurants, she might run into someone who knew about her crime. The chances of that happening were remote, but Linda had by now learned never to take an unnecessary risk.