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I step back. “You talked to him?”

“Millicent did and Chief Wilmot too. Don’t worry about him and don’t worry about the Hastingses. If I see things getting too topsy-turvy, I’ll intervene. Gerald isn’t wrong about me. I do interfere too much.”

She crosses the room and pulls her coat off the top of my icebox—the one place where she told the men not to touch anything. She reaches into one of the pockets and pulls out a white card. “Monday morning, come to this address at nine o’clock.”

“Why? What is it?”

“Your next adventure.” She winks and she’s gone.

I stand alone in the bedsit I’ve come to love these past few months and now can no longer recognize. And, oddly, I won’t miss it. While it was the home I wanted and so desperately needed, it was Charlie, Peggy, the Hastingses, Mimi, Sallie, and more that made Great Rollright home. I will miss them desperately. And they are already gone.

A few minutes later, Mr. Wainright trudges up the steps, and before greeting me, sitting forlorn on my bare mattress, he surveys the room. “They did a fine job.” He finally focuses upon me. “Are you ready?”

And I am gone too.

Once situated in the back seat of a Wolseley, Mr. Wainright tells me to settle in for a two-and-a-half-hour drive. Then he falls silent.

After almost an hour of staring out the window and watching the sun rise, I start to get fidgety with too many thoughts and too many questions. But just as I’m about to speak, Mr. Wainright reaches for the briefcase at his feet, pulls out a packet of papers, hands them to me, and starts talking.

“So much easier in the light when one can see things.” He taps the file sitting in my lap. “Your new life, Miss Nora Marple.”

I open the manila folder to find several printed pages. From a brisk perusal of the first page, I learn my new identity. My new past. Some details shockingly familiar, some quite foreign. “I’m still an only child,” I comment, as oddly I wondered if I might gain fictional siblings and what I would feel if I did.

“It’s always best, especially for long-term cover, to stick as close to the truth as possible. There’s very little, other than your name, we had to change. A few details, of course. For instance, please note that the boardinghouse you lived in is now located on Brimstone Street. But I can’t imagine that ever coming up.”

I turn the page and read on. “This is very thorough.”

“It needs to be.”

Canvassing the file, I soon come across my official identification papers. Nora Marple. Birthdate 24 March 1925. One month, one day, and one year off my real one. “So this is a ‘long-term cover,’ as you called it?”

Mr. Wainright turns towards me. “Miss Marple.” He pauses and lets the name sink into the space between us.

I absorb it as best I can but can’t stop my heart from entering my throat. I take a deep breath and sense he notes the very moment I calm and accept, and he can continue.

“You need to understand. This is a lifetime cover. You, from this moment on, will always be Nora Marple. And while you are free to travel as you like, I highly recommend you stay in London exclusively for the next few years. Let yourself age a bit, get to know your new life, settle into your neighborhood, and find new friends. Learn to live comfortably within Miss Nora Marple.”

“But I can travel?”

“Of course. You aren’t under any type of arrest or anything. You won’t even be under observation. You’ll have a number to call if ever you feel vulnerable or threatened in any way, but we don’t even expect that. I’m just making a suggestion, based on experience.”

“You’ve done this before?”

“I have. Many times.”

“Were those people in danger too?”

He sighs, as if explaining things to a small child is becoming tedious. “To a degree you are in danger, Miss Marple, yes, but Lady Marchmont isn’t wrong about the coverage Kuczynski can give. She said you had nothing to fear. So I am willing to let her ladyship have her way a bit, and we’ll call this soft cover. You stay away from Great Rollright and the obvious pitfalls, and I suspect we’ll be fine.”

He looks out his window. “Kuczynski’s already been welcomed by the East German Stasi, their brand-new Ministry for State Security. They practically held a parade for her in Berlin.” He casts me a glance. “Her successful return is sure to cool the fire within anyone worried about you. She was always the prize, and now, from their perspective, she is safe. Little else matters.”

“Then what harm could there be in letting just a few people know where and who I am? Like the Hastingses. They are hardly a threat.” Really I’m thinking of Charlie, but I don’t dare say it. I can’t bear to be told no where he is concerned. Believing I’ll never see him again is one thing; hearing it is quite another.

Mr. Wainright sits quietly for a few moments, and I begin to wonder if he heard me at all. He finally exhales. “No one, Miss Marple.”

It’s remarkable how empty one feels when the last bit of hope drains away.

He turns to me again. “There was debate as to whether to keep this from you, but you’re the sort to ask questions, I think, and not give up until satisfied.”