Alpine For You Part 5

"Do you suppose his wife will fly over here to accompany the body on the trip home?"

I shook my head. "Louise is phobic about flying. Maybe one of his five ex-wives will get the urge to volunteer."

"Poor Louise is going to be grief-stricken when she hears the news," Jane brooded. "I should find a sympathy card and send it to her. You wouldn't happen to know where the nearest Hallmark card shop is, would you?"

"Nope, but I can tell you where you can find a nice watch."

We stopped along the promenade at the base of a really long covered bridge that spanned the water at a lazy forty-five-degree angle. It was constructed of weathered brown wood, and in flower boxes across its expanse was a profusion of red geraniums that brightened the pewter grayness of sky and water. From the front of the crowd I heard Sonya's voice. "This is called Chapel Bridge. It was constructed in the year 1300. As we cross over it, please note..."

The wind caught her words and scattered them in the opposite direction from where I was standing. It was chillier standing by the water, the wind more gusty. Cold glazed my cheeks. Cold numbed my mouth and fingertips. I turned my back to the wind.

"Whoa!" My arm nearly wrenched out of its socket as an updraft swooshed under my umbrella and snapped it inside out. The wind ripped my hood off my head. Rain spat in my face. In my eyes. Down my neck. A sudden strong gust tore at the unbreakable metal spokes and bowed them into the impossible shapes of a broken Erector Set. "My umbrella!" I fussed with the spokes, not knowing whether they should be straightened or bent. I scrunched the Kevlar panels together and tried to slide the runner back down the rod, but the damage was irreversible. The mechanism was shot. "It was brand-new," I grieved in a small voice. "It was unbreakable. It matched my raincoat." But worst of all, "It was automatic."

The group surged forward, carrying me with it. I pouted for a few seconds over the loss of my umbrella, then pitched it into a nearby trash receptacle before we maneuvered up the stairs to the bridge.

"The triangular paintings under the gables were painted in the seventeenth century by Heinrich Wagmann," Sonya began. I hugged my hood more closely around my face and s.h.i.+fted my feet from side to side. I couldn't hear what Sonya was saying anymore. I checked my watch to see how much more time we were scheduled to walk around. Two hours and twenty minutes. Great. In two hours and twenty minutes I'd be suffering frostbite and would need to have my fingers and toes amputated, which would be a real waste considering how much nail polish I'd bought recently. I sneaked up behind d.i.c.k Teig, hoping his head would give me some protection from the wind.

"Say, Sonya," d.i.c.k Ra.s.smuson called out in a cloud of cigar smoke, "how much would it cost me to buy a house around here?"

"We discuss paintings this morning! In two days you may ask me about real estate."

"Then how about cars?" d.i.c.k persisted. "What's your average car sell for?"

"You may ask about automobiles when I arrive at that part of my talk on day four."

"What did you say is the name of this river we're crossing?" George Farkas wanted to know.

"I didn't say! You don't need to know that now!"

Wally had been right. Sonya knew everything there was to know about Lucerne. If you asked her on the right day, she might even be willing to share the information with you.

The wind chased us along the bridge. An octagonal stone tower rose from the depths of the river and ab.u.t.ted the bridge near the opposite sh.o.r.e. It had a witch's cap of a roof and looked like part of a castle. "This is the Water Tower," Sonya told us. "It was erected in the fourteenth century and measures 140 feet from top to bottom. The people of Lucerne have used it as a watchtower, a corner pillar of the city's fortifications, a prison, and a torture chamber."

I wondered what kind of torture the Swiss had used on their prisoners. Probably forced them to take the walking tour, with a test afterward.

By the time we left the bridge and struck out along the promenade toward a two-towered stone church, the rain had diminished to sprinkles, but the wind was still howling off the water and cutting through every layer of clothing on my body. Sonya led us to a plaza that fronted the church and positioned herself in front of an old-fas.h.i.+oned black wrought iron lamppost. "Behind you is the Jesuit Church..."

I stood on tiptoe to see her. Black coat. Black slacks. Black hair with neon yellow highlights streaked across the front. Lily Munster meets Dennis Rodman. Off to my right, d.i.c.k Teig and d.i.c.k Stolee wandered toward an area where granite steps led down into the river. I suspected that, in the summer, this would be an ideal place to sit and dangle your feet in the water, but today, I was more interested in getting inside the church to get out of the wind.

"We can proceed into the church now," Sonya instructed. "Please use the door on the left and remember, this is a church, so..."

"b.a.l.l.s!"

I turned to my right to see an object that resembled a clump of parched sod swirling in the air above d.i.c.k Stolee's head. I heard Nana whistle through her dentures behind me. "Boy, when his hair decided to fall out, it went really fast. Lookit him. Bald as a Q-Tip. Poor fella. Someone shoulda warned him about the wind here. He mighta opted for the Velcro strips."

He leaped into the air after the toupee, but it sommersaulted higher, floated for a moment, then dive-bombed straight into the river. "b.a.l.l.s!" He shoved his camcorder at d.i.c.k Teig and ran to stand at the top of the stone steps, gesticulating wildly. "It's starting to sink. Son of a b.i.t.c.h!"

I jogged over to where he was standing as the rest of the tour group filed in a hurried line into the church. He grabbed my arm. "I paid three thousand dollars for that hairpiece, Emily!"

We stood for a moment watching it tread water. "I hope it's insured for water damage."

d.i.c.k Teig palmed the camcorder and started filming. "The river." He panned left and right then held steady. "d.i.c.k's hairpiece in the river."

d.i.c.k Stolee bent down to unlace his shoes. I eyed him curiously. "What are you doing?"

"If I lose that rug, Grace will never let me buy another. I've gotta jump in there and fish it out!"

I looked at d.i.c.k. I looked at the river. I looked at the hairpiece. "ARE YOU NUTS?"

"There's time. It's still floating." Off came one shoe.

"Can you swim?"

"Of course I can't swim. No one in Iowa can swim." Off came the other shoe.

"I bet Sonya can swim," shouted d.i.c.k Teig. "I think Sonya should do it."

I could see d.i.c.k Teig capturing the whole event on tape: d.i.c.k Stolee diving into the river. d.i.c.k Stolee sinking to the bottom of the river. If he ran off half-c.o.c.ked and killed himself, I'd I'd be accused of allowing someone to drown my first day on the job. This would not be a big selling point on my resume. Nuts. be accused of allowing someone to drown my first day on the job. This would not be a big selling point on my resume. Nuts.

I looked at d.i.c.k. I looked at the hairpiece. I sighed with resignation. "Put your shoes back on, d.i.c.k. I'll do it."

"You can swim?"

"'Fraid so."

"Why didn't you say something sooner? Hurry up." He jammed his feet back into his shoes and urged me down the steps. "It's getting away."

It was four feet from sh.o.r.e and doing a slow backstroke toward the middle of the river. I shrugged out of my raincoat and kicked off my shoes. I pulled off my cardigan. I looked up to find d.i.c.k Teig focusing the camcorder on me. "This is the plaza in front of the Jesuit Church. This is Emily getting naked on the plaza in front of the Jesuit Church."

I rushed down to stand on the last step above water level. I reached out as far as I could. It was about five feet away now and completely out of reach.

"If you wait long enough, maybe the tide will carry it to sh.o.r.e," d.i.c.k Teig called out. I rolled my eyes. Being a native Iowan, the only tide d.i.c.k Teig knew about was the laundry detergent, and if Helen was in charge of the wash, he wouldn't even know that much.

"Be careful when you grab it," d.i.c.k Stolee advised. "Try not to damage the part."

"How deep is this water?" All I could see were steps disappearing into liquid murk.

"Don't sweat the water. Just dive in and get it."

"I'm wearing cashmere, all right? Diving is not an option!" I was sorry already for taking this job. With mindless courage, I stepped onto the first submerged riser. "YEOOOOOOW!" My ankles and toes numbed instantaneously. I could hear d.i.c.k Teig filming behind me.

"This is Emily freezing her a.s.s off."

I lunged for the toupee. It bobbed away on a little wave. I descended another step, and another. The water was up to my knees. I hopped to the end of the riser and stretched as far as I could. Almost. It was just beyond my fingertips. Just a little farther...

KERPLUNK!.

I thrashed to the surface in a frenzy of sodden clothing and frozen limbs. I opened my eyes. The hairpiece was just beyond my nose. I'd taken Red Cross lifesaving. I knew how to save a drowning body, but I wasn't sure if the same technique would work on a hairpiece.

I swiped at the toupee and crushed it in my fist, then swam the four feet to sh.o.r.e. d.i.c.k Stolee helped me out of the water and up the stairs. He s.n.a.t.c.hed his hairpiece from me. After wringing a gallon of river water out of it, he smacked it against his thigh in what I figured was the male version of the blow-dry method. "Looks like it'll be good as new. Thanks, Emily. You're all right."

"D-don't mention it." I was s.h.i.+vering so badly, I thought my jaw would crack. My teeth chattered. My knees knocked together.

"It's d.a.m.n cold out here, Emily. You'd better get into some dry clothes." d.i.c.k looked at his watch. "And you'd better hurry. We only have a couple of hours until we head back to the bus."

I stared at his watch in horror. Unh-oh. Everything had happened so fast. Had I remembered to remove my watch before I'd done my Little Mermaid routine? I lifted my arm and reluctantly coaxed the sleeve of my sweater past my wrist. No. NOOOO!

"Something wrong with your watch?" d.i.c.k inquired.

I waved it in front of his face. "It's f-full of water. How can it be f-full of water? It's brand-new! It's w-water-resistant!"

"I think what you wanted was water proof. proof. Remember that next time. Gotta run. Have to see what the big deal about the church is. Thanks again." He held his toupee up like a prized fish and posed in front of his camcorder for a final shot. Remember that next time. Gotta run. Have to see what the big deal about the church is. Thanks again." He held his toupee up like a prized fish and posed in front of his camcorder for a final shot.

"d.i.c.k's hair," narrated d.i.c.k Teig. "Reunited with d.i.c.k's head."

"Sacre bleu," I muttered as I peered down at the ruined watch that was costing me the equivalent of ten years' worth of curly fries. I muttered as I peered down at the ruined watch that was costing me the equivalent of ten years' worth of curly fries. Sacre bleu Sacre bleu is a common expression among non-Norwegians in Iowa. From what I can figure, it means, is a common expression among non-Norwegians in Iowa. From what I can figure, it means, Uff da. Uff da.

This was great. This was JUST great. How could I have let this happen? I was the student who'd been voted "Most Clever" in my high school graduating cla.s.s. How could a supposedly clever person be so oblivious?

With a grunt of disgust, I squeegeed water out of my pant legs and shoehorned my feet back into my shoes. "Miss Andrew?" That voice. I knew that voice. I spun around to face Inspector Miceli. I felt liquid heat arrow downward from my navel.

"Inspector. Wh-what a surprise."

His blue eyes a.s.sumed a sooty, grayish cast in the daylight. "Someone from across the river pointed out a commotion over here."

"I saved a man's hairpiece from drowning."

He smiled that beautiful smile of his. "You must have done a thorough job. You're incredibly wet. Though I must admit, it's a look that rather becomes you." He slung off his leather trench coat and wrapped it around my shoulders. This was getting serious. We were already at the part of the relations.h.i.+p where we were sharing each other's clothing. "What happened to the rest of your group?"

"Inside the church."

"You shouldn't stay out here, Emily. I'll take you back to the hotel so you can change into dry clothes."

"But I c-can't go. I need to stay with the group. I'm their new escort."

"You need to go back to the hotel," he said matter-offactly. "With me."

"Okay." Could I play hard to get, or what? "But I'll need to stop inside the church and tell my grandmother where I'm going."

"You go on to my car. I'll tell your grandmother."

I gathered up my cardigan and raincoat. We'd only walked a half dozen steps when Etienne's trench coat started making a sound. I looked down at the coat, startled. "Is it my ears, or is your coat chirping?"

"My cell phone. Excuse me, please."

He dug the phone out of his pocket, then walked a short distance away to converse. When he returned, he wasn't smiling.

"Bad news?" I asked.

"Your Mr. Simon. It appears he might have died from something other than a severe asthma attack."

I remembered what Jane Hanson had said. "You mean, the stress of wanting to be the perfect escort really did kill him?" I felt a trill of alarm. I was only twenty-nine. I had a lot more living to do. Maybe I should rethink this escort thing.

"Something more deliberate than stress killed him, Miss Andrew. There are indications that your Mr. Simon may have been murdered."

Chapter 5.

"Murdered?" Sure, Andy had been a lowlife. He'd thought of no one but himself, hurt countless women, and ruined a lot of lives. But if every man who acted like that was murdered, we'd be a planet of Amazon women. "How could he be murdered? He's from Iowa. Iowans aren't murdered. Iowans die from overdosing on bacon, or from being crushed in customer stampedes when Fareway runs a special on Iowa chops."

"I can't give you details, but I will tell you that his death appears more suspicious now than it did at five o'clock this morning."

"You think someone on the tour killed him?"

"In a majority of homicides, the victim and his killer are usually acquainted. We have one possible lead to follow, but should that turn out to be a dead end, do you know anyone on the tour who would have a motive to kill him?"

He had me there. I was acquainted with many of the seniors in the group, but if one of them despised Andy enough to kill him, I didn't know who it would be. I shook my head.

"When we have the results back from serology, we'll know more. Until then I can only caution you to watch yourself, Miss Andrew."

"Watch myself?" I felt my stomach drop to my knees.

"Am I in danger?"

"What you a.s.sumed to be the sounds of s.e.xual acrobatics last night in Mr. Simon's room may well have been the sounds of Mr. Simon being murdered. If the perpetrator thinks you heard something that could implicate him..."

He left the sentence unfinished, but his expression spoke volumes. Unh-oh. This wasn't good.

"I'd appreciate your keeping this information to yourself until our findings are more conclusive, Miss Andrew. There's no sense causing panic among the people in your tour group."

What about causing panic in me? I was going to be constantly looking over my shoulder now, expecting some friendly acquaintance to stick a knitting needle through my ear. "You think the killer might strike again?"

"Until we discover the motive for the murder, we've no way of knowing that. But as the group's escort, you should be alerted to the possibility that someone on your tour could be capable of murder."

I felt honored to be taken into his confidence, but the honor did nothing to calm my frazzled nerves. How could I keep this to myself? "Can I tell my grandmother about this? I promise she won't tell anyone. Telling a secret to Nana is the same as stas.h.i.+ng gold in Fort Knox and throwing away the key. I think she should know. After all, if the killer suspects I heard something, he might think Nana heard something, too."

Inspector Miceli nodded. "If that will allow you to sleep better, by all means, share the information with your grandmother. I urge both of you to be aware of your surroundings at all times and to report anything that looks suspicious." He handed me a card with his name and office phone number on it. "I can be reached here anytime, day or night. If the need arises, call me."

He dropped me off at the side entrance to the hotel. Leaving his trench coat behind, I ran through the drizzle into the welcoming warmth of the lobby. "Room thirty-three-ten," I said to the clerk at the front desk.

He checked the grid of slots behind him. "Did you leave your key in the box this morning?"

"Yes, I did."