Alpine For You Part 6

"It's not here." He checked the box on the front desk to find it empty. "It's not here either."

"Well, I put it in the box before I left. Where else could it be?" Then it occurred to me. What if the killer had been watching my movements? What if he'd s.n.a.t.c.hed my key from the box after I'd deposited it there this morning? What if he was waiting in my room, intent on killing me, too? Oh. My. G.o.d.

I could see the nattily attired clerk studying my tangled nest of wet hair and sodden top. He arched an eyebrow at me. "It must be raining outside. We sell items for such occasions in Lucerne. I believe you call them umbrellas."

I would have gritted my teeth if they hadn't been chattering so hard. "How about you send someone up with a master key to open the door for me?" And to check out the room for maniacal killers before I set foot in it.

"Your name, Madame?"

"Emily Andrew."

"If you'll kindly have a seat in the lobby, I'll see what I can do about locating your key."

In my present state, I didn't dare sit on the room's velvet sofas, so I threw on my cardigan and raincoat for warmth and stood in front of the lobby window, watching the mist and fog cloak the daylight. I regretted having trashed my umbrella. With a killer on the loose, I might need a weapon. And even though a broken umbrella wasn't in the same league as a hand grenade, I bet I could poke someone's eye out with it, which would be eerily prophetic since my mother had been warning me about the likelihood of that happening from the time I'd turned six.

I supposed I could use my new watch as a weapon, but giving the killer the incorrect time didn't seem threatening enough. I needed something with more punch.

"Emily?"

I turned to find Shirley Angowski heading across the Oriental carpet toward me, and she wasn't looking so hot. Her hair was flat, her eyes were puffy, and she was wearing a navy blouse with black pants, which was as big a fashion faux pas as wearing blue-green with olive green. I figured she must be really rattled about Andy to have her color sense thrown so far off kilter.

"What happened to you?" she asked, staring at my hair.

"Midmorning dip in the river. I don't recommend it as a scheduled activity."

"I'm so glad you're here," she said, taking my hand for comfort. "Everyone is out on that tour this morning, so I'm all alone. I don't know what to do with myself."

I noticed she'd done something with herself. Her fingernails were no longer the color of Pepto-Bismol. They were black as licorice Jelly Bellies. "Nice color," I said. "I sometimes do black on Halloween."

She held out one hand so we could both admire it. "It's called Galactica. Galactica. It's part of the Millennium collection. I did it out of respect for Andy." It's part of the Millennium collection. I did it out of respect for Andy."

"Did you name this one?"

Shirley shook her head. "Revlon a.s.signed someone else to do the Millennium collection. I don't know much about outer s.p.a.ce. I don't even know where the Milky Way is."

No surprise there.

She sighed. "What am I supposed to tell people about last night, Emily? I'm so embarra.s.sed. Andy invited me to the hotel lounge after dinner, and while he was at the bar ordering our drinks, some old geezer who looked like Ya.s.ser Arafat hit on me."

Unh-oh. The Italian pervert strikes again.

"I was very polite and told the guy I was with someone else; but his English was pretty minimal, so I don't know if he understood me. He just stood there jabbering at me, refusing to leave. Then Andy came back with our drinks and told the guy to leave, but he still refused, so they had words, Andy motioned for the bartender, and the old guy got kicked out on his ear. And he wasn't happy about it, Emily. You should have seen the evil look he gave us on his way out. It gave me the w.i.l.l.i.e.s. I was so nervous after that, Andy suggested we retire to someplace more private, so we went up to his room and I helped him practice lines for a play he's going to audition for."

"Did you tell the police about the man in the lounge?"

"I sure did. And I gave them a really good description, right down to his trench coat and k.n.o.bby knees."

Was this the lead Inspector Miceli had mentioned? "His name is Nunzio."

Shirley gasped. "How do you know that? Did he hit on you, too?"

"He hit on my grandmother."

Shirley nodded as if this behavior were perfectly normal. "He must have a thing for older women. I better call the police and give them his name. Anyway, Emily, Andy was very gentlemanly when we were in his room. Nothing happened. Honest. He didn't do a thing wrong except flub a few of his lines."

"How was his delivery?"

"Pretty stiff, but I didn't want to hurt his ego, so I didn't tell him. When I was about to leave, he told me if I felt like coming back anytime during the night, he'd leave his door unlocked as an open invitation. All I'd have to do is walk in."

That made sense. If he'd given her his key, she could have been standing in the hall all night trying to unlock the door.

"He said he hoped I did come back, because he sensed we were soul mates. That we shared a bond that transcended s.p.a.ce and time."

I tried not to roll my eyes, but they flew up into my head despite all my efforts to the contrary. I had to hand it to ole Andy. What he lacked in originality, he made up for in consistency.

"Why did you roll your eyes?" Shirley asked.

"If there was a chance Andy could get a woman into bed, he'd always claim she was his soul mate."

"You mean, I'm not the only one he said that to?"

"I don't want to seem insensitive, but no, you weren't."

Shirley removed her gla.s.ses to dab at the tears that had sprung into her eyes. "But, he seemed so sincere. He said he was trapped in a bad marriage with a woman who refused to have s.e.x with him. He said he knew that making love to me would erase all the hurt he'd suffered through the years. He seemed so wounded, so forlorn. I...I..."

"Couldn't refuse?"

She nodded. "He made me feel so special. Ordinarily, I'd never sleep with a married man, but he told me he planned on filing divorce papers when he got back home, so I thought, what the heck. I'm fifty-nine years old. What am I saving it for? If we hit it off, I was even going to give him a pedicure later in the week. I feel like such a fool. But I suppose I'd feel like a bigger fool if he'd kicked off while we were doing it. I've heard stories about how a man's thing can get stuck inside you if he dies all of a sudden. Then someone has to call the fire department and they use a special instrument to pry the two of you apart. I think it's the Jaws of Life or something. Do you think they have the Jaws of Life in Switzerland?"

"They seem to have everything in Switzerland. Except sunshine and edible food. Look, Shirley, Andy's death wasn't your fault, so at the risk of sounding trite, I'd advise you not to dwell on what happened last night. You were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Bad karma. It happens to lots of people."

She apparently liked that answer because she stuffed her tissue back into her pocket and straightened her shoulders. "You're right. I'm going to get on with my vacation and not feel guilty or embarra.s.sed about what happened last night. I probably did Andy a favor by finding him like I did. He might have been putrefying in there for a long time otherwise." She squeezed my hand. "Thanks for talking to me, Emily. I was going to skip the group picture at one o'clock, but you've made me feel so much better, I think I'll go after all. See you there."

Okay. So being the quintessential escort had its rewards. It felt nice to brighten someone's day, and I especially liked it that people felt inclined to spill their guts to me. Of course, I didn't believe for a minute that Andy intended to serve divorce papers on Louise. She was his cash cow. No way would he cut her loose. He'd lied to Shirley about his intended divorce and ended up dead. I could hear my mother now. "See what happens when you break one of the Ten Commandments?" Of course, in Andy's case, he'd broken more than one, so maybe it was the c.u.mulative effect that got him.

One thing was for sure. He never should have left his door unlocked, especially after he'd just humiliated a man in public. Another clear-cut case of a man discarding common sense and thinking with his Mr. Peppy. It had had to have been Mr. Nunzio who killed him. Granted, killing a man because he'd gotten you thrown out of a lounge was pretty extreme, but Nunzio was Italian, and Italians were notorious for their explosive tempers. He had a motive, and Andy's leaving his room unlocked had given him the opportunity. I just hoped the police dragged Nunzio in for questioning quickly. I didn't like the idea of having to watch my back with everyone in the group, but until the police were certain and charged the guy, that's exactly what I'd be forced to do. to have been Mr. Nunzio who killed him. Granted, killing a man because he'd gotten you thrown out of a lounge was pretty extreme, but Nunzio was Italian, and Italians were notorious for their explosive tempers. He had a motive, and Andy's leaving his room unlocked had given him the opportunity. I just hoped the police dragged Nunzio in for questioning quickly. I didn't like the idea of having to watch my back with everyone in the group, but until the police were certain and charged the guy, that's exactly what I'd be forced to do.

With a possible suspect identified, I was beginning to feel a little calmer, until I remembered that my key was missing. Oh. My. G.o.d. Was it Nunzio who'd stolen my key out of the box this morning? Could he be in my room this very moment waiting to-- "Miss Andrew?" An unfamiliar female clerk motioned to me from the front desk. "I believe we have everything in order now. You should have mentioned you were in the room the police cordoned off. We put your key in a special place to remind us that you can't go up there."

"So no one stole it?" My knees wobbled with relief. I felt a hundred pounds lighter...for a millisecond. "What do you mean I can't go up there? Look at me! I need to change my clothes!"

"Hotel policy."

"I could come down with pneumonia and die!"

"There's a hand dryer in the ladies' toilet by the dining room."

If I still had my umbrella, her eye would be history. "All my stuff is in that room." I lowered my voice and skewered her with an icy glare. "I need my stuff."

"Sorry."

This wasn't going well. I decided I'd have to appeal to her feminine nature, provided she had one. "Are you telling me I'm going to have to go around looking like this all week?" I opened my raincoat to reveal the grossly distorted shape of my cashmere sweater.

Her lips did a little quirky thing, like a silent, "Euwww." She looked over her shoulder to the main office, then slid the key to room 3310 across the desk toward me. "I'll give you a half hour. Pack up your belongings and leave your suitcases outside your door. I'll have a bellman transfer them to your new room when we decide where we're going to put you."

Now we were getting somewhere. The only problem nagging me as I rushed up the stairs was, how could I unlock my door in a half hour's time?

Luck was with me. The policemen who had been in the corridor this morning were still there. "Excuse me. Could you possibly help me with my door again?"

The officer who had helped me earlier shook his head. "I'm sorry, Madame. You can't go in there."

Oh yeah? "I've been given permission to pack my belongings."

"By whom?"

"Inspector Miceli." Okay. So he hadn't exactly given me permission. But he had had suggested I change my clothes. Close enough. suggested I change my clothes. Close enough.

He exchanged a look with his fellow officer, shrugged, then opened my door for me. I checked Nana's travel alarm. Eleven-twenty-nine. I ran into the bathroom to take a hot shower but had to sc.r.a.p the idea when I realized the only towels we had were the ones I'd used to mop up the floor yesterday. Yuck. I stripped down to my skin, fired up my blow-dryer, and for the next ten minutes blew hot air all over my body. When I was done on both sides, I threw on the warmest clothes I could find--tights, heavy cotton socks, wool slacks, a cropped Berber pullover sweater, and thick-soled Nubuck walking shoes, then opened both our suitcases and started pitching things inside. I pa.s.sed the mirror and glanced at my reflection. "EHH!" My hair was frizzed straight out like the bride of Frankenstein, but I had no time to fuss with it now.

When I had all our things packed, I gave the room the once-over, locked the suitcases, and wheeled them out into the hall. Before I closed the door, I flipped on the television and checked the time again. Eleven-fifty-eight. I had a whole minute to spare. G.o.d, I was good.

I gave my key back to the front desk clerk, who informed me that I should have my new room a.s.signment within the hour. "If you'll kindly wait in the lobby, Madame."

It was noontime, and now that I'd caught my breath and was dry again, I realized I was hungry. "Does the dining room have any luncheon specials?"

"The dining room isn't open for lunch."

Of course. That would be too convenient. "Is there anyplace nearby where I can pick up a burger and fries?"

"You mean, like a McDonald's Happy Meal?"

"Exactly."

"There's a McDonald's in Zurich."

Even more convenient. Since hiking to Zurich wasn't in my travel plans for the afternoon, I retreated to the lobby and examined the contents of my shoulder bag. Kleenex. Lipstick. Nail file. Pa.s.sport. Tic Tacs! I poured a half dozen into my hand and popped them into my mouth. Address book. Dental floss. A lone LifeSaver (r) hairy with fuzz. Looked like pineapple. I didn't like pineapple. I dropped it into an ashtray. A bag of airplane peanuts. Yum. I'd save those for dessert.

Hearing the rumble of a diesel engine, I looked toward the side entrance of the lobby. The door flew open, and Nana trooped through, followed by the rest of the tour group. From the smile on her face, I guessed she'd just muscled past George Farkas again to be first off the bus. I waved her into the lobby and patted the seat beside me.

"You're back a little early, aren't you?" I asked.

"We skipped the last three sights on the tour because the Rhode Islanders were cold and the rest of us were gettin' antsy we'd miss the bus."

I shook my head. "The point of this trip is NOT to prove how punctual you are. The point is to see Switzerland, to sample the culture, to live a little."

"Tell you the truth, Emily, Bernice's hearin' aid was hummin' so loud, I couldn't hear a thing Sonya was sayin'. Sittin' on the bus wasn't so bad. At least we got outta the rain. And Wally conducted a nice sing-along." She tilted her head and gave me a quizzical look. "I don't recall your hair lookin' like that at breakfast this mornin', dear. Your mother's been hintin' that I'm losin' my memory. Don't tell her, but I think she may be right."

"Trust me. You're fine." I looked around the lobby. There were a few New Englanders milling around the front desk, but most people had headed back to their rooms so we were pretty much alone until Bernice spotted Nana and headed in our direction. She sat down at the end of the sofa and let out an audible sigh.

"I need to catch my breath before I head upstairs," she sputtered.

"Did you enjoy the tour?" I asked.

"What?"

"I said, DID YOU ENJOY THE TOUR?"

She gave me a vacuous smile. Nana caught my eye.

"She took her hearin' aid out, dear. If you want an answer, you'd have better luck talkin' to a k.u.mquat."

That was handy. I exchanged vacuous smiles with Bernice and returned my attention to Nana. "I have something to tell you, and you have to promise promise to keep it to yourself." to keep it to yourself."

She made a motion of locking her lips and throwing away the key. "I promise."

"I talked to Inspector Miceli this morning, and he told me that Andy's death looks suspicious. They think he might have been murdered."

"No."

"Yes. And the killer could be your Mr. Nunzio."

"No!"

"Yes. And what's worse, if it's not Nunzio, it could be someone on the tour."

"No kiddin'."

"And if the killer thinks we overheard something in Andy's room last night, he could be after us, too!"

Nana froze up like the Tin Man in a rain shower. "That's not good."

"So Inspector Miceli said we should watch our backs, and if we see anything suspicious, we should report it. And for heaven's sake, if you should see Mr. Nunzio again, don't stop to chat. Run!"

"But he seemed like such a nice man." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "You think we should arm ourselves?"

"With what?"

She gave her finger waves a slow, pensive scratch before pointing an excited finger at me. "Defense spray."

"Like mace?"

"Like hair spray."

Hmm. That might work. A blast of aerosol to the eyes wouldn't cause irreparable damage to anyone's eyesight, but it might slow them down. Slowing down was good. "Great idea. I have some in my suitcase."

"We better go up to the room then. I gotta figure out the best place to stash it--my f.a.n.n.y pack or my bra. I'm kinda leanin' toward my f.a.n.n.y pack though. My bra's pretty crowded already."

"With what?"