The non-stop overnight mag-lev from Victoria pulled into Toronto’s Confederation Station right on time: 6:00 am. Leslie was surreptitiously locked into a deluxe suite in the forward sleeper car, and the crew had orders not to release her. This wasn’t quite kosher legal-wise, but she didn’t know the difference given all my blather about assault charges for non-cooperation. I was berthed in the suite across from hers.
I gathered up my bag, left my suite, entered the hallway and knocked on her door.
No answer.
“Leslie, are you awake?”
Still nothing. Probably a heavy sleeper. It was still only 3 am on the west coast after all. I had barely slept myself. Stress and adrenaline and not enough whisky.
Two constables and a conductor came down the corridor. The conductor had the key to Leslie’s suite.
“Leslie, we’re going to open your door.”
Nothing. I was getting worried she wasn’t alright.
I motioned to the conductor to open her door. He did.
I looked around her suite. I needn’t have worried. She wasn’t there.
The next instalment can be found here.
The next instalment can be found here.
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