Alpine For You Part 21

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 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? 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. George Farkas Room 2115. Checking another sack, I found a notation in the same place. Checking another sack, I found a notation in the same place. Solvay Bakke Room 3008. Solvay Bakke Room 3008. I shuffled through several more to find them I shuffled through several more to find them all 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. 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. "h.e.l.l, 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 is no coffin." 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 sungla.s.ses again. It might a worked with d.i.c.k, 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 h.e.l.lo to Andy."

"Well, would you look at that," said Nana. "They cremated him. Bernice is not not gonna be happy about this." gonna be happy about this."

"They did what what to him?" Bernice complained ten minutes later. 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 pa.s.sed, 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 dark navy coatdress, ugh, which ill.u.s.trated 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. coatdress, ugh, which ill.u.s.trated 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.

"Are you okay?" I asked gently.

She shook her head, then sat down in one of the boudoir chairs, head drooping, shoulders slumped. "I think you may have been right, dear."

I sat down opposite her. "Right about what?"

"I just got an E-mail from Alice Tjarks back home. You remember the other day when you asked how Bernice lost all her money? Well, you put a bee in my bonnet, so I sent a message to Alice, tellin' her what all's been happenin' here, and I asked real casual-like if she knew why Bernice was in the financial straits she's in now." Her head drooped lower.

Unh-oh. "Did she?"

Nana nodded. "The way Alice tells it, Andy was doin' financial plannin' back in the early eighties, and one a the portfolios he managed was Bernice's. But he didn't give her real good advice. Told her to put all her eggs in one basket. Real estate. 'Buy farmland,' he tells her. 'It's worth a mint.' So she buys the land and the next thing you know, the government reduces grain subsidies and the price a land bottoms out. She lost everythin'. What was worse, at the same time Andy's tellin' her to buy, he's sellin' off the land he'd bought years earlier. So he ends up rollin' in dough while Bernice can't rub two dimes together. When she caught wind a what he done, she marched into his office and told him she didn't care what she had to do, or how long it took, but one day, she'd see he got his comeuppance."

"No!"

"Yes."

"How did Alice know all this?"

"She was the file clerk in Andy's office. She was right there when it happened. And I trust her memory, Emily. She's secretary a the Legion a Mary, and she remembers so good, she don't even have to take notes at the meetin's to write the minutes."

I leaned back in my chair, stunned. Even though I'd suspected Bernice, it didn't delight me to know my suspicions had been on target.

"You was right, dear, and I was wrong. All along I figured she wanted to visit Switzerland 'cause she was a little jealous I was goin', but thinkin' back, she didn't get real fired up to go 'til she seen the entire list. The one with Andy's name on it. She signed up 'cause of Andy, not 'cause a me."

Nana looked so miserable, I suddenly found myself defending Bernice. "But how did she get hold of dimethyl sulfate?"

She boosted herself out of her chair, crossed the room to her computer, and hit a few keys. I walked up behind her and read the text that appeared on the screen. "'Zwerg Chemical and Industrial Supply Company. Ames, Iowa.' Oh my G.o.d! Is that her son? He owns a chemical company?"

Nana nodded. "I never would a checked if I didn't get that E-mail from Alice."

"But when would Bernice have slipped Andy the poison? I can't recall her ever being around Andy, and you said she never even spoke to Shirley."

"You must a forgot, dear. They sat beside each other on the plane comin' over."

A chill rattled my spine. That's That's the memory I'd been trying to recall--Bernice standing in the aisle, letting Andy out of his seat so he could use the lavatory. While he was gone, she could have poisoned his food, his coffee, his water. the memory I'd been trying to recall--Bernice standing in the aisle, letting Andy out of his seat so he could use the lavatory. While he was gone, she could have poisoned his food, his coffee, his water.

"I guess I'm not such a good judge a character after all," Nana pined.

I circled a comforting arm around her shoulders. "I'm so sorry, Nana. I wish it had turned out some other way. I guess it's the people closest to us who sometimes surprise us the most. You realize we're going to have to notify the police."

"I know, dear. But if it's all the same to you, I'd like to make the call. She's my friend. I figure it's my responsibility."

"You stay here and wait for the police then." I gathered up another armful of shopping sacks. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"You want me to help you deliver those, Emily?"

"I'll be fine. A few more trips, and I should have it taken care of."

An hour later, with all my parcels delivered, I returned to the room to find Nana still waiting for the police to arrive. "I think they slack off a little when there's no body involved," she reasoned. "You look tired, dear. You have a headache?"

"A headache. A toothache." The ugly truth was, I was a mess. Could I deal with stress or what?

"Maybe you should get more a that Motrin from Jane," Nana suggested.

"I think I'm going to have to." And I'd better hurry before she packed up all her pharmaceuticals.

A few minutes later I was knocking on Jane Hanson's door. "Do you have any more Motrin?" I asked when she answered. "My tooth is killing me."

She was wearing a terry bathrobe, and her hair was mussed, but she opened the door wide for me. "Sure I do. Come on in. But you'll have to wait a minute because I just packed all my meds and toiletries into my carry-on."

"I was afraid that would happen. I should have come sooner."

"If your tooth was hurting, why didn't you?" She disappeared into the bathroom.

"I had lots of errands to run." I was apparently interrupting her packing because her pullman was open on the bed, but there was nothing in it yet. I let my gaze roam idly about her room, the visual equivalent of counting sheep, until I spied something the size of a small perfume bottle lying beneath the desk where her computer sat. She'd kept her medications on that table. Had she dropped something when she'd packed them up? "Have you heard about tomorrow yet?" I asked as I scooched down to fish the thing out.

"I was in the shower when Wally called, but he left a message on voice mail."

I heard rattling and clinking from the bathroom as I studied the cobalt blue bottle in my hand. Not perfume. It was makeup remover. The expensive kind sold only in department stores. I frowned. What was Jane doing with makeup remover? She never wore wore makeup. Odd. I set the bottle on the desk so she'd be sure to pack it, but my eyes kept wandering back to the gold labeling on the front. What was wrong with this picture? "Too bad we have to leave, huh?" I called across the room. makeup. Odd. I set the bottle on the desk so she'd be sure to pack it, but my eyes kept wandering back to the gold labeling on the front. What was wrong with this picture? "Too bad we have to leave, huh?" I called across the room.

"What's that? I can't hear you." I jumped when the phone rang. "Would you get that, Emily?" Jane's voice echoed off the tiles. "It's probably Wally with a change of plans."

I walked to the nightstand and picked up the phone. "h.e.l.lo?"

A beat went by. "To whom am I speaking, please?"

It wasn't Wally. He had a German/French/Italian accent. It was Etienne! "Oh! I'm so glad you called. This is Emily. We--"

"Emily, say nothing. Just listen to me. Get out of that room. Do you hear me? Put the receiver down and walk out the door. I'm in a car heading toward the hotel. I'll be there in a few minutes. No heroics, darling. Just get out. Ms. Hanson has killed one person, perhaps two. I won't have you be number three."

Ms. Hanson? Jane was the killer? No-no. That couldn't be right. It had to be Bernice. Nana and I had worked it all out. I paused. "Are you sure?"

"We have the a.n.a.lysis from Shirley Angowski's camera bag. Jane Hanson's fingerprints are all over it."

"Really?" I could hardly wait to tell Nana! She'd be thrilled Bernice wasn't the killer. But I guess this meant the police were pretty sure Jane was. Unh-oh.

Jane walked out of the bathroom holding a tablet of Motrin and a gla.s.s of water. I smiled at her, hoping she wouldn't notice that my hands were suddenly trembling. She looked at me expectantly, as if presuming I'd hand her the phone, but when I didn't, she set the pill and water on a nearby table and eyed me curiously.

"Okay, Wally," I said, my tongue so dry it was sticking to the roof of my mouth. "Thanks for calling. I'll pa.s.s the message along." I put the receiver down. "That was Wally." My voice cracked midword. "He just wanted to double-check that you got the message about our leaving tomorrow."

"There's your pill." She gestured toward the tablet on the table. And then it hit me. Oh my G.o.d! Jane Hanson wasn't at all who she appeared to be. She wasn't a kindly pharmacist. She was a cold-blooded murderer! She'd killed Shirley. She'd probably killed Andy. And if she'd poisoned Andy, what would prevent her from poisoning me, too? The Motrin looked tempting, but if it was going to relieve my toothache by causing immediate death, forget it.

"You know something, Jane? The tooth actually feels much better, so I think I'll just tough it out. Sorry to have bothered you." I sidled toward the door, but she was three steps ahead of me, intercepting my exit. "I really need to get back to the room and pack. I haven't even started yet. And you need to pack, too. Look. You haven't thrown anything into your suitcase. And I should remind you that you need to have all your luggage outside your door by five, which means you'll have to save room in your carry-on for your nightgown because--"

"Shut up, Emily."

"Okay." I suspected the jig was up. I lunged for the door, but Jane was faster. She blocked the door with her body and locked it, then yanked the belt of her bathrobe out of its loops and slapped it against her palm. Unh-oh. I didn't like the looks of this.

"Why don't you tell me who was really on the phone," she hissed.

"It was Wally. Honest. He--"

She cracked the belt at me like a whip. "Ow!" It caught my forearm, stinging the flesh under my jersey. "Hey, cut that out."

"Try again, Emily. Who was on the phone? What did they tell you that made your face turn so white?"

"It's this new foundation of mine. I swear. Revlon Skinlights Face Illuminator. Haven't you seen it advertised? It's the new look. Makes your face radiantly white, or pink, or bronze. I bet you sell it at the pharmacy. You probably even know what aisle it's in."

She snapped the belt at me again, but I leaped out of the way. "Liar. I hate liars."

"Shirley Angowski never lied to you," I said, backing toward the bed. "Why did you kill her?"

"It was the police on the phone, wasn't it? They found the camera case. They discovered my fingerprints." She thwacked her forehead with the palm of her hand. "I should have worn gloves, but I forgot them on the bus. d.a.m.n. I didn't intend to kill her right then, but when I saw her perched on that ledge with no one around, I thought, why not?"

Hmm. The decision to kill someone was apparently no more momentous for Jane Hanson than someone else's decision to hit the snooze b.u.t.ton on their alarm clock. "Why did you push her?" I shot back. "What did she ever do to you?"

"She was going to sleep with Andy! Do you think I could stand by and let that happen?"

"Why should you care?"

"Because he was supposed to be in love with me! me! He was He was my my soul mate, not hers. He was supposed to be loyal to soul mate, not hers. He was supposed to be loyal to me! me! But how could he be loyal to me when he wasn't loyal to anyone? He tricked me. He hurt me. So I made him pay. Just like I'm going to make you pay." But how could he be loyal to me when he wasn't loyal to anyone? He tricked me. He hurt me. So I made him pay. Just like I'm going to make you pay."

"Me? What did I I do?" do?"

"Poor, Emily. Think of it as being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

I'd said those exact words to Shirley Angowski two days ago, and now she was dead. Not a good omen.

"You know far too much for me to allow you to live," said Jane. "So I'm going to have to deal with you the same way I dealt with Andy, and Shirley, and Lucille."

"Lucille?" Had I missed something? "Oh my G.o.d! What have you done to Lucille?"

She twisted her mouth to the side in what looked like acute exasperation. "Nothing, actually. Those morons screwed up my plan completely. Lucille was supposed to take the hit, but wouldn't you know. She She didn't want the ice cream with the nuts, so it looks like d.i.c.k ended up eating it." didn't want the ice cream with the nuts, so it looks like d.i.c.k ended up eating it."

I let out a gasp. "d.i.c.k? You killed d.i.c.k?"

"Not on purpose. Weren't you listening? It was an accident."

I remembered the ice cream d.i.c.k had offered me earlier. Had that been the one laced with poison? I felt my throat close at the thought. "You poisoned d.i.c.k just like you did Andy. You put dimethyl sulfate in that ice cream today!"

Jane looked surprised. "Do you think I'm crazy? I never would have taken dimethyl sulfate into the country. That stuff is poison. You can die just by inhaling it. I used something quite benign. In fact, I take it myself. Synthroid."

"Oh yeah? If it's so benign, how come d.i.c.k is dead?"

"Because I gave him too much. I'd planned on giving Lucille a series of overdoses to kill her, the little cheat. But with d.i.c.k's heart condition, one overdose was enough to kill him. An excess of thyroid hormone can wreak havoc on the body's metabolic system."

I was beginning to question the wisdom of her telling me all this. Throughout movie history, when the murderer starts spilling his guts, it usually spells curtains for anyone within earshot. Since I was within earshot, I suspected her confession meant curtains for me. Not exactly the way I'd planned to spend my last evening in Switzerland. But one thing was for sure. Jane Hanson was bonkers.

I slid my hand into the pocket of my slacks. "How did you kill Andy if you didn't bring the poison into the country with you?"

"That was easy. He bought new disposable contact lenses the day before we left, so I laced a free sample of his rewetting solution with the dimethyl sulfate. He must have used it right away because, as you know, he didn't last too long after we got here."

"That's so diabolical," I fired at her. "What was in the gla.s.s you just brought out of the bathroom and wanted me to drink?"

She looked confused. "Water. You needed something to wash down the Motrin."

"You didn't put any poison in it?"

"Uff da, Emily. I'm a druggist. I have ethics to uphold." Emily. I'm a druggist. I have ethics to uphold."

Like I believed that. "I should have known it was you," I accused as I wrapped my hand around my Swiss Army knife. "You had the easiest access to the poison. You probably keep it right in the pharmacy."

"We don't keep dimethyl sulfate anywhere near the pharmacy. I bought a liter of it at a chemical recycling website on-line. You can buy anything on-line these days, Emily. Groceries. Poison. Love. I should think you'd know that."