The Hand on the Wall(64)

“No,” Leo said, trying to sound casual. “I felt terrible and came back earlier. I’ve been in bed all day. I woke up and thought you’d be about.”

It was a strange story and a weird way to announce that you’d been around for hours, but it would have to do. The weight of the gun in Leo’s pocket seemed to increase. Would it be noticeable? Perhaps. Best to put it down.

“Come to Albert’s office,” Leo said, hurrying back in that direction. “The good stuff is in here.”

He quickly settled himself in the chair by one of the decanter trollies and stuffed the gun behind him, making sure the barrel was pointed downward. Hopefully it wouldn’t set itself off. Guns didn’t do that, did they?

“Funny I didn’t hear you,” George said. “When did you get back?”

“Oh . . .” Leo waved his hand airily. “I never went. Turned around on the drive. Couldn’t face a day out there on the boat. The whole thing is very . . .”

He shivered a bit to indicate the emotional state of things.

“Yeah,” George said, seeming to relax a bit. He came over and poured himself a bit of the whiskey from the decanter. “It really has been. I could use a drink.”

“You were smart to stay as well,” Leo said, sipping gingerly. “This nightmare.”

The gun made it impossible to lean back, so Leo hunched forward a bit as if the weight of the day sat on his shoulders like a monkey. The two men drank in silence for several minutes, listening to the rain hit the wall of French doors and the wind whistle in the chimney.

It was now or never. He could drink and go to bed, or he could continue.

“George . . . ,” Leo said.

“Yeah?”

“You know I . . . well, I’d like to ask you something.”

George Marsh’s expression didn’t change much. A few blinks. A slide or two of the jaw.

“What’s that?”

Leo swirled the liquid in his glass with one hand, keeping the other alongside his leg, where he might slide it back if necessary.

“I saw what you did. I thought you might explain.”

There was no immediate reply, just the ticking of the clock and the patter of the rain.

“Saw?” George finally said.

“Out under the dome, in the tunnel.”

“Oh,” George said.

Oh didn’t quite cover the situation, Leo felt, but the conversation had started. George let out a long breath and leaned forward. Leo had a surge of raw panic and almost slid his hand back for the gun, but George was only putting his drink down in order to rest his elbows on his knees and cradle his head in his hands for a moment.

“I found her,” George said.

“Clearly,” Leo replied. “But where? How?”

George lifted his face.

“I’ve been doing some digging around in New York,” he said. “Working some leads. I got something promising a few weeks ago, couple of hoods started talking about doing the Ellingham job. I went down, did some listening of my own. I finally found one of the guys, grabbed him outside of a restaurant in Little Italy. It didn’t take much to make him talk. He gave me a location. I went there. I found her body.”

“So why didn’t you say something?” Leo said.

“Because the idea of her is keeping Albert alive,” George replied, becoming more animated. “He doesn’t have Alice, but if he has this idea of Alice—someone to look for and buy toys for—what would he do without that?”

“Move on with his life,” Leo said.

“Or end it. That kid is everything to him.” George’s voice choked a bit as he said this. “I failed him that night. I failed Iris, and I failed Alice. But then I found her. I brought her here because she should be at home, not in the place I found her, some field. Home. She should be buried with some kind of love. Near her father.”

“Near her father?” Leo asked.

“Albert,” George replied. But the little quiver in his voice told Leo what he needed to know.

“So Flora spoke to you,” Leo said.

George sagged, his head lolling toward his chest.

“How long is this supposed to be a secret?” Leo asked. “Forever? Until he gives his entire fortune away trying to find her?”

“I don’t know,” George replied. “I only know this is what’s best for now.”

“And then at some point you’ll say, ‘You’ll never guess what happened! I found your daughter and buried her out back. Happy birthday!’”

“No,” George snapped. “Forever, then. Probably forever. As long as she’s alive in his mind, that part of him is alive.”

“And the people who did this?”

“Taken care of,” George replied. This time, his tone brooked no further comment.

“So,” Leo said, tapping his nails on the arm of the chair, “the case is over.”

“Yes.”

“With Alice buried here behind the house.”

“Yes.”

“Something only you and I know,” Leo said.

“Yes.”

“So what you want is for me to enter a pact of silence with you on this matter.”

“Yes. It has to be a secret.”