Authors: Maddy Hunter
* * *
The weather deteriorated steadily as we headed south. Arriving back in Lucerne, we were welcomed by the normal fare of heavy drizzle and dense fog. I was so cold, I no longer had feeling in my extremities, and my lips were completely numb. I felt like Emily Andrew, human Sno-Kone.
"After dinner this evening there'll be a group meeting in the lobby for the Iowa contingent," announced Wally over the mike. "It's extremely important that all of you attend, so please be there."
The bus emptied amid grumblings from everyone about the trip home. The people at the front of the bus had been too hot. The people at the rear of the bus had been too cold. I'd have thought the people in the middle would have been just right, but even they had started to complain about an unpleasant odor wafting about the bus. Fortunately, my nose was a cube of ice, so I couldn't smell a thing. My only problem was hypothermia.
Wally made his way to the back of the bus and clapped me on the shoulder. "Good job, Emily. We pulled it off. I'll contact the authorities, and they can take it from here. Geez, you look awful. I hope you don't have frostbite." He hugged his arms to himself. "Man, it's freezing back here. No wonder your nose is purple. I'm heading inside the hotel. I'll wait for the police in there."
Nana helped me inch my way off the bus and into the hotel. Every bone inside me creaked with each step. "How come you're not cold?" I asked her.
"The change, dear. I haven't been cold since nineteen-seventy-two."
We picked up the room key at the desk and took the elevator to the fifth floor. "You may wanna take a long, hot bath in the Jacuzzi," Nana suggested when we were inside the room. "It might take the chill off. You want me to run the water?"
I nodded. My jaw was too stiff with cold to answer. My teeth were ice pellets inside my mouth. And through the cold, I could feel the area around my new crown start to ache again. Ah, yes, another banner day in the life of Emily Andrew.
I hung up my raincoat, kicked off my shoes, collapsed into a boudoir chair, and thought about what a horrendous day I'd had. The trickery. The deceit. The cold. Of course, my day hadn't been as horrendous as Dick Rassmuson's. I shot up a little straighter with that thought. All things considered, my day had been considerably better than Dick's.
Nuts. I hated when that happened. I hated having my pity parties interrupted by the voice of reason.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
I stared at the door. Not the police. They couldn't get here that fast, and besides, Wally promised he wouldn't drag my name into the investigation.
I tiptoed to the door and looked through the peephole. A man wearing a bellman's uniform was in the hall. I opened the door. "Ms. Andrew?"
"My suitcase!" There it was. Sitting on its little wheels beside him. My twenty-six-inch tapestried pullman. I suppressed the urge to scooch down and hug it. "You found my suitcase! This is wonderful! Where was it?"
He wheeled it into the room. "Apparently, a member of our housekeeping staff noticed a rend in the material when it was sitting outside your room, so she took it to luggage repair to have it mended. We have our own mender in house."
"So it was here all the time?"
"In the basement."
"It was in the basement, and you couldn't find it?" Incredulity in my voice.
"You should have told us there was a rend in the material, Madame."
"I didn't
know
there was a rend in the material."
"Yes, but if you had noticed, that would have clued us to check the repair room rather than the storage room and lost and found."
"I didn't know you
had
a repair room."
"Every hotel in Switzerland has a repair room, Madame. It's rather a necessity considering what the airlines do to luggage these days." He broke into a smile that stretched ear to ear. "The Grand Palais prides itself on keeping their guests' luggage in perfect repair. It's hotel policy."
I thought about the pink teddy bear sweatshirt. The Sunday sweatshirt with lace. The dead muskie sweatshirt. My words squirted out of my mouth between clenched teeth. "Does the hotel have a policy about guests being forced to run around without their clothes...WHILE YOU REPAIR A MICROSCOPIC TEAR IN THEIR LUGGAGE?"
"As far as I know, Madame, the hotel has no policy concerning nudity."
I was busy emptying my suitcase when Nana came out of the bathroom a few minutes later.
"Well, would you look at that," she marveled. "Your suitcase is back. Where'd they find it?"
"In the basement being mended."
"Did it need mendin'?"
"Someone
seemed to think it did."
Nana shrugged. "They must have better eye care here than we do back home."
By the time we hung up the rest of my clothes and put away my toiletries, the Jacuzzi was full and the jets were percolating. Nana checked her watch. "Supper's in fifteen minutes, Emily. We gotta hurry."
"You go on without me," I insisted. "I plan on soaking until my skin wrinkles like a prune. But I'll meet you in the lobby around seven for the group meeting." I failed to mention that my tooth was aching so badly, I probably wouldn't be able to eat anyway.
I set my Swiss Army knife on the side of the bathtub so I could watch the time, then sank down into the bubbling water to warm my frigid bones. I tried to let my mind drift toward happy thoughts, but Dick's sudden death kept intruding. I wondered how Lucille was taking the news. It was sad her last words to him had been so harsh. She'd have to live with that for the rest of her life, which was a good lesson for me. No matter how angry you are, some things are better left unsaid, because once the words are spoken, there's no taking them back.
Dick's death reminded me so much of Shirley Angowski's. Shirley could have either fallen accidentally or been pushed. Dick could have either died from natural causes or been poisoned. At least, that was my take on it. Neither Wally nor Nana had seemed surprised by Dick's death, so maybe I was out in left field about my poison theory. But it had happened to Andy. Why not Dick? Except, who would want to kill Dick? He wasn't sleeping around. Other than being a little loud and boisterous, he wasn't a bad sort. What could be the motivation?
I stared at the ceiling, completely confused. Here I'd thought Dick was part of the death squad to get me and he ends up dead himself. Boy, I'd called that one wrong. Maybe that would teach me not to be so suspicious. But that still left a big question unanswered. What
had
Helen and Grace been discussing yesterday in Spengler's dressing room if not how to eliminate me?
I put it out of my mind as I felt my bones start to thaw. In fact, I put my brain in neutral and concentrated on the positive forces that were making inroads in my life. I had my suitcase back. I was staying in the room of my dreams. Etienne wanted to see me naked. Maybe I'd rounded a bend in the road of life and my future was on the upswing.
I was humming the second verse of "She'll be Comin' 'Round the Mountain When She Comes" when I heard the knock on the door.
I decided to ignore it.
It sounded again, loud and persistent.
I checked my knife. Six-thirty. Maybe it was housekeeping to turn down the covers and leave the mint on the pillow. Sigh. I supposed it was time to dry off and get ready for the meeting anyway. "Just a minute!" I yelled.
I hopped out of the tub, slid into the thirsty terry cloth bathrobe that was hanging on the door, and scurried into the bedroom. "Who is it?" I called as I crossed the floor.
"It's the police, Madame. Please open the door."
T
he police?
My knees liquefied. So much for life taking an upswing. Wait until I saw that turncoat Wally again. Not going to drag my name into the investigation, was he? He set me up! He stuck me with the dead body all the way home, and now he was going to feed me to the police. My list of possible offenses flashed before my eyes in big neon letters: OBSTRUCTION OF JUSTICE. PERJURY. FLEEING THE SCENE OF A CRIME. LITTERING. I was hoping they might overlook the littering charge though since I hadn't
intended
to leave my bag of postcards behind on the spa bench.
But wait a minute. The police? Maybe it was Etienne.
I raced to the door and glued my eye to the peephole. Not Etienne. But he was wearing a police uniform, so it looked pretty official. Unh-oh. I opened the door.
"Ms. Andrew? Ms. Emily Andrew?"
"Yes." He was carrying a small pewter vase that he thrust at me. Unprepared for the handoff, I bobbled it for a moment before cradling it like a football in the crook of my elbow. "What's this?" I asked.
"Inspector Miceli instructed me to deliver this to you."
A gift? For me? From Etienne? I took back all the spiteful thoughts I'd just had about Wally. "Why, it's beautiful," I said, smoothing my fingertips over the brushed satin sheen of its deep curves. Oh yes, life was definitely looking up. I imagined setting this on the mantel of our first house and filling it with tulips. "Is he at work? I should call him and thank him for it."
"I'm afraid you won't catch him at the station this evening. He's at the Forensics Lab." He removed a paper from his breast pocket. "You'll need this certificate to expedite the parcel through Customs."
I blushed at Etienne's extravagance. The vase was so expensive, it needed separate papers. "Tell him he shouldn't have."
"It's a requirement, Madame. All bodily remains passing through Customs need to be documented."
My hand froze on the vase. "Excuse me?"
He regarded the paper. "According to the documentation, the urn bears the remains of Mr. Andrew Simon, late of Windsor City, Iowa."
I plucked it from the crook of my elbow and held it at arm's length away from my body. "THIS IS ANDY?"
"Yes, Madame. What's left of him."
"What happened to the idea of a coffin? What happened to the idea about one of his former wives flying over here to escort the body back?"
The officer shrugged. "He was cremated, Madame, and Inspector Miceli indicated you would be the one to take responsibility for the urn. You
are
the escort for the tour group, aren't you?" He looked suddenly concerned. "Should I tell the Inspector you'd prefer to pass the responsibility on to someone else?"
Oh, sure. That would be a great way to impress Etienne. Shirk my responsibility. Be uncooperative. Whine. Smart people hid those parts of their personalities until
after
the wedding vows were spoken. "I'll do it," I said reluctantly, "it's just that, it comes as a surprise."
"Death always comes as a surprise, Madame, even when you're expecting it."
I turned back into the room and eyed the heap of packages I was supposed to stuff into Andy's coffin on the trip home. I held the urn up to gauge its measurements.
By my calculations, it was going to be a tight fit.
At seven o'clock I walked into the lobby of the hotel to find the entire tour group huddled around coffee tables and sitting shoulder to shoulder on the settees and sofas. Lucille Rassmuson was absent, as would be expected, but the other two Dicks and their wives were there, which indicated to me that they hadn't heard the news about Dick Rassmuson's death yet. I waved to Nana, then sauntered over to one of the lobby's marble columns to use it as a backrest.
"Looks like we're all here," announced Wally. "After the meeting you can purchase the group photo we had taken at the Lion Monument in the bar area."
"How much?" asked Dick Teig.
"Fourteen American dollars."
"That's too much," replied Dick.
"Then don't buy the damn thing!" snapped Wally.
I suspected Wally had been spending a little too much time around Sonya.
"You don't have to get crabby about it," Dick shot back.
"We could buy one copy and have it reproduced in the Pills Etcetera photo machine back home," offered Jane.
"That would only cost four ninety-five per photo, not including tax."
Wally fanned his hands through his hair. "Look, I'm sorry. It's been a stressful day, and that's part of the reason I called this meeting. I have some tragic news to report to you, people. Dick Rassmuson appears to have suffered a massive heart attack on the way back to Lucerne today. I'm sorry to have to tell you that he has passed away."
A collective gasp. Hands flying to mouths. Then silence as the news sank in.
"Lucille is with the authorities at the moment. She's been sedated and will probably need someone to stay with her tonight if any of you would like to volunteer."
Helen and Grace allowed tears to stream unashamedly down their cheeks. George Farkas hung his head. Jane tented her hands over her face. Dick Teig and Dick Stolee sat in stunned silence, probably realizing there were only two of them now. It had to be hard to lose a Dick. Bernice sat quietly watching how everyone else was reacting.
Lars Bakke stood up. "I'm only speaking for myself, but I think this tour has been cursed from the beginning. The weather's been foul. The food's been inedible. Three people have died." He paused for effect. "I don't know about anyone else, but I say we get the hell out of here before anyone
else
dies. I say we get on the first plane heading home and cut our losses while we still can!"
"Hear, hear!" yelled Solvay.
Nods of approval. Whispers. Mumblings.
"You want to go home?" asked Wally to the group in general.
Home? Wait a minute!
I
didn't want to go home. I just got my clothes back. I had the good room. The good view. At least, I'd have the good view when the fog cleared. I had another week with Etienne! I couldn't leave. He hadn't even seen me naked yet.
"Okay, let's have a show of hands," said Wally. "How many of you are ready to cancel the rest of the tour and head home?"
Hands flew up all over the room. No! This couldn't be happening. This was a trip of a lifetime! How could they be throwing it all away?
"I guess I don't need to ask how many opposed."
I raised my hand. Wally looked in my direction. "One opposed," he said. "You're way outnumbered, Emily."
"Things could start to get better," I reasoned. "The food isn't
that
bad. The fog could lift. And since people die in threes, we've already met our quota."
"You can say that because you're young," shouted Bernice. "You're not worried about dying. You probably don't even know what your cholesterol level is."
"Yeah," said George Farkas. "Three gone already. What's to say we won't start on
another
set of three? I agree with Lars. I say we head out to the airport in the morning and camp out until they find a plane to take us home."
More nods of approval. "Is that what everyone wants to do?" asked Wally.
"You bet it is," barked Lars.
"Get us out of here," agreed Bernice.
Since I was the lone dissenter, it seemed futile to protest the decision. Majority rules. We were going home, and there was nothing I could do about it. I couldn't even stay behind on my own because
I was the freaking escort.
Wally quieted everyone down. "I'll still be continuing the tour for the people from Rhode Island, but I'll call the airport right away to see what I can arrange for flights for the rest of you. If there's anything available, you'll have to be prepared to have suitcases outside your doors at five o'clock tomorrow morning and be ready to leave the hotel by seven."
I'd just unpacked my suitcase and now he wanted me to
re
pack it before I went to bed tonight. Typical.
"I'll call each of you tonight to let you know the plan, so please don't stray far from your rooms. And don't forget about the photos in the bar."
Nana walked over to me as the group broke up. "Are you disappointed we're leavin'?"
I nodded. "I didn't even get to send any postcards."
Dick Teig walked past us in a daze. Helen touched my arm on her way by. "When Dick and Lucille didn't show up at dinner, we called their room, but there was no answer. We thought they were probably still miffed at each other and not in the mood to socialize." She shook her head. "We had no idea."
"I wasn't at dinner either," I said, wondering why they hadn't bothered to call me.
"You weren't at dinner?" Helen said, looking perplexed. "Isn't that odd? I guess I never noticed."
"I'm gonna have a peek at that group picture at the Lion Monument," Nana interrupted, taking a step toward me.
"OUCH!" wailed Helen.
Nana looked perplexed. "My goodness, was that your foot, Helen? I'm sorry. I guess I didn't notice you standin' there."
I rolled my eyes at Nana's need to even the score.
"You wanna come with me, Emily?" Nana asked.
If this was the group photo where I was bending over for one shot and had my mouth hanging open for the other, I'd rather have a root canal. "I don't think so. I need to head upstairs. I have some unfinished business to take care of."
Nana understood unfinished business. She'd just taken care of hers.
Back in room 5111 I contemplated the problem of the extraneous purchases lying in shopping sacks in one corner of the room. One way or the other, they had to go, and they
weren't
going with Andy. I hefted one of the bags into my hands, wondering what it was and who it belonged to. I should have made an announcement at the meeting instructing people who'd left shopping bags in my room to pick them up. Unh. Why was hindsight always twenty-twenty?
As I went to set it down, I noticed a name in Magic Marker in the corner of the sack.
George Farkas Room 2115.
Checking another sack, I found a notation in the same place.
Solvay Bakke Room 3008.
I shuffled through several more to find them
all
like that. This had to be Nana's doing. She must have had everyone write his or her name and room number on their sack before they left it. The woman was brilliant! Absolutely brilliant. I could only hope I'd turn out just like her. Only taller.
I separated all the sacks by room number, gathered up several, and took the elevator down to the second floor. I knocked on George Farkas's door and when he answered, I stuck his shopping sack in his face. "You'll need to find some other way of getting this back home."
"But Bernice said you were going to ship it home in Andy's casket."
"Andy isn't going home in a casket. He's going home in a jar. He was cremated."
"A jar?" He looked crestfallen. "Hell, I can't take it with me. My suitcase is packed to the gills. How big is the jar?"
"Not big enough. I suggest you call the front desk to inquire about shipping services."
I conducted similar conversations with the occupants of two other rooms, then headed back to the fifth floor for another batch. Nana was waiting outside the room for me when I arrived. "I'm sorry you had to wait," I apologized as I unlocked the door. "I'm delivering all the shopping sacks back to their original owners."
"That's the spirit, dear. I didn't think Bernice's idea was such a good one in the first place. Was there a problem with the coffin?"
"Big problem. There
is
no coffin."
"No coffin? Oh, dear. How're we s'posed to get him home without one?" She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "Is Wally behind this? I don't mind tellin' you, Emily, I hope we don't have to go through that business with the hat and sunglasses again. It might a worked with Dick, but Andy's been dead a few days. We'll never get him past the agent checkin' photo IDs at the airport."
I gathered my sacks into my arms and headed for the door. "No disguises this time." I nodded toward the pewter urn on the desk. "Say hello to Andy."
"Well, would you look at that," said Nana. "They cremated him. Bernice is
not
gonna be happy about this."
"They did
what
to him?" Bernice complained ten minutes later.
"Cremated him," I replied. "He's in a little urn about this big." I indicated the general dimensions. "You'll probably have to call the front desk to inquire about other shipping arrangements."
The elevator was overcrowded and headed in the wrong direction, so I decided to take the stairs back to the room. As I sprinted up the staircase, I moved away from the handrail to avoid colliding with a platinum-haired woman who was struggling with a huge Bucherer sack. No doubt another traveler looking to have her cuckoo clocks shipped. I eyed her as we passed, wincing at the thick layers of poorly applied makeup that masked her face. Her rouge and eye shadow highlighted all the wrong bones. Her lipstick appeared dry and flaky, as if she'd forgotten to use conditioner. Her feet looked really elegant in a pair of strappy black velvet heels like the ones I'd bought yesterday, but she was wearing them with a
dark navy
coatdress, ugh, which illustrated a stunning truth about women and fashion: any female with halfway decent taste could pick out stylish separates, but knowing how to coordinate them was a gift many women lacked. Including this one. Poor thing.
I reached the top of the stairs feeling gloomier than ever about the end of what could have turned into the perfect holiday. I'd have to phone Etienne to tell him about our change of plans, but since he wasn't at the station this evening, I probably wouldn't even get a chance to talk to him in person. I'd have to leave a message on his voice mail, or with a stranger who might not even speak English. The situation was so depressing, my head started to ache as badly as my tooth.
"Wally just called," Nana informed me back at the room. "Looks like he might be able to fit all of us on the plane tomorrow, so we need to pack tonight." But she didn't seem quite herself. Her eyes looked terribly sad, as if she'd just lost her best friend.