G'Day To Die Part 20

"You inspired me." He nuzzled my neck. "You've shown me that with a little vision and a great deal of enthusiasm, anything is possible."

Bless his little heart. He was evolving. That was so sweet!

"The Swiss are much too enamored of predictability," he continued, "so I'm cutting loose, taking a walk on the wild side, going where no Swisser has ever gone before. It's clear to me now, Emily. The world is our-" He paused. "Our-"

"Oyster." We needed to have a serious talk about this new dictionary of his.

"Oyster. Of course. I was going to say clam, but I was sure the word had more than one syllable. So what do you say, bella? bella? Have I convinced you?" Have I convinced you?"

"I'm...I'm speechless. What you're offering me is so incredible, Etienne, but how can I abandon my seniors? I'd feel so disloyal. Who'd chaperone them around the world if I left the bank? I adore my job; I've gotten good at what I do. Mr. Erickson praises me for being organized and cheerful, and I've become so patient dealing with people that I'm not even tempted by sharp objects when I'm around Bernice and the d.i.c.ks anymore. I'd love to come work for you, but how can I turn my back on Mr. Erickson when he was so kind to offer me the position in the first place? I know you're offering me an opportunity of a lifetime, but what am I supposed to do about-"

"Emily," he said, sounding distracted, "did the park ranger warn guests about standing too close to the sea lions?"

"He sure did. Why?"

"Some of your group seem not to have heard."

I glanced toward the ferocious Southern Ocean to find sea lions dipping and bobbing in the surf before catching waves that launched them onto the beach like fired torpedoes. Bernice paced at the water's edge, trudging left and right in her stiletto boots, shooting closeups as they landed. "The ranger said to stand no closer than four meters. What's that in feet?"

"About twelve."

I stood up and let fly my signature whistle. "Bernice!" I whistled again and cupped may hands around my mouth. "BERNIIIIIICE!"

She turned around, looking annoyed at the interruption.

"Get out of there!"

She angled her hand behind her ear and shrugged at me.

"It's twelve feet, not four! Move!" I made frantic sweeping gestures in the air. She waved back.

"You're yelling into the wind," said Etienne. "She can't hear you."

"URRRK URRRK URRRK." A mammoth bull drew her attention as he rolled onto his belly and waddled straight at her, muscles rippling and flippers kicking up sand. With the ocean at her back and the bull blocking her front, she stood paralyzed for a moment before reverting to the only survival technique she knew.

"h.e.l.lLLLLP!"

"Oh, for crying out-RUN!" I screamed. Then to Etienne, "Grab a ranger! We're going to need him!"

"URRRRK URRRK URRRK."

Bernice let out a shriek and ran like h.e.l.l. I slogged through the sand after her, intercepting her as a rogue wave crashed onto sh.o.r.e and upended both of us, tossing us around like empty c.o.ke bottles. Water shot up my nose. Sand skinned my knees. Struggling beneath an avalanche of sea foam, I flailed desperately for Bernice, hitting a bony limb and grabbing hold so she wouldn't get dragged out to sea.

"URRRRK URRRK URRRK."

Swiping at the hair that tentacled my face, I looked toward the sound. The d.a.m.n thing was still coming. I shook Bernice's limb. "Are you alive?"

She wheezed deeply. "My-" Blub Blub.

"Good." I hauled her to her feet and seized her hand. "Don't stop running until we reach those rocks."

I sloshed through waves and wet sand, pulling Bernice behind me. By the time we reached the headland, the bull had tired of the chase, preferring instead to swagger around a harem of cows, wowing them with his manly grunts. Bernice sagged onto a rock, shivering, her teeth clacking like castanets. I doubled over, wincing as I held my side.

"That's it, Bernice!" I gasped for air. "You're not taking any more trips with me-"

"You can't do that! It's d-discriminatory. Ageism! Ageism!"

"-until you learn the metric system."

"Oh." She glanced back down the beach. "That wave t-took my camera. The b-best camera I ever owned! Digital. All the b-bells and whistles. Every picture I've shot of this t-trip was on that camera. How am I supposed to c-compete with your grandmother if every freaking p-picture I've taken is gone! I need that photography job m-more than she does. She's got her m-millions. Now it's my turn! It's not f-fair. Everything she touches turns to gold. Everything I touch turns to c-c.r.a.p."

My Escort's Manual Escort's Manual stresses that in times of crisis, the creative escort will always provide options to a distraught guest. "I have a disposable in my shoulder bag. Say the word. It's yours." stresses that in times of crisis, the creative escort will always provide options to a distraught guest. "I have a disposable in my shoulder bag. Say the word. It's yours."

She regarded me dourly. "All the p-people on this island, and I get stuck with P-Pollyanna." She wrestled her boot off her foot. "It was all that p-park ranger's fault. Four meters. How am I supposed to know how m-much that is? Who uses the m-metric system anyway?"

"The entire world-excluding US citizens and a few headhunters in New Guinea whose system of weights and measures revolves around the human skull. We're definitely in the minority here, Bernice."

"Yeah, well, it's not my fault that the r-rest of the world is wrong." She peeked inside her boot, then tilted it sideways, pouring out seawater as if from a teapot. Her face crumpled with disappointment so obvious, I felt a little tug on my heartstrings.

"I'm sorry about your boots."

"Guess I won't be wearing these again anytime s-soon." She yanked off the other one and dropped it to the ground. "If the job th-thing didn't work out, I thought I could make my photographic c-comeback in these boots. Get a few magazine g-gigs like in the old days. Branch out with geriatric calendars and s-some online stuff. I could have gone far." She kicked the nearest one with her bare toe. "Now l-look at them. Ruined and useless. Just like m-me."

Uh-oh. She was taking this really badly. It was almost as if she were mourning the death of a family pet. I wasn't trained to handle clinical depression, but my Escort's Manual Escort's Manual did suggest shopping as a possible remedy for occasional blue moods among female and gay guests. did suggest shopping as a possible remedy for occasional blue moods among female and gay guests.

"Maybe that boutique where you bought them has a branch in Adelaide. Let's check the phone book when we get back. You might be able to buy another pair exactly like them. I'll hire a cab and take you there personally."

She heaved her shoulders in a pathetic sigh.

"You could take them home with you and have them bronzed. Mom did that to my baby shoes. Nana was going to do it to Grampa Sippel's L. L. Bean hat with the earflaps, but she buried him in it instead."

She shook her head glumly. "I'll just take 'em home and s-sell 'em on eBay."

"Sell them? You're going to sell sell them? How can you sell them? Look at them. They're ruined!" them? How can you sell them? Look at them. They're ruined!"

"You are sooo sooo out of touch. How do you m-manage to get along in life? You ever heard the saying, 'One m-man's trash is another man's t-treasure'?" out of touch. How do you m-manage to get along in life? You ever heard the saying, 'One m-man's trash is another man's t-treasure'?"

I gave her a hard look. "Don't you think that's a little unethical?"

"Have you heard, 'Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me?'"

"Are you ladies all right?" a park ranger called, as he and Etienne trudged toward us.

I flashed him a tentative thumbs-up. Bernice flashed him a boot.

"What am I supposed to do for sh-shoes now? I can't walk around barefoot. And l-look at me. I'm so c-cold, my knees are knocking together. That water was freezing. I p-probably have hypothermia. I could die at any m-moment!"

Etienne pulled off his shirt and wrapped it around Bernice's shoulders. "Is that better, Mrs. Zwerg?"

She eyed his naked torso and batted her soggy lashes. "Actually, I've heard that body heat is the b-best cure for hypothermia."

He pressed her hands together and rubbed them like a Boy Scout kindling fire. "How's that?"

"Not exactly what I had in m-mind, hon, but it'll do for now."

I choked back a laugh. Yup. He was destined to be a big hit in the travel industry.

"I'm sorry I didn't arrive quickeh," the ranger apologized, as I sluiced water off my goose b.u.mps. "Had some official police business that couldn't wait, but it looks to be oveh now."

I froze in place. "Police business? You mean, the police were here? Just now?"

"All the way from Milbourne."

"Did they arrest someone?"

"Don't know. Whin the lady cried for hilp, I had to abandon thim." He slanted a long look toward the boardwalk. "That's thim leaving agin."

I craned my neck to see, but glimpsed nothing more than a couple of heads that disappeared beyond the vanishing point.

"One of the blokes had his handcuffs out and looked like he intinded to use thim, so I'm thinking whin you hid back to Adelaide tonight, you'll be minus one tour gist."

Yeah, but which one?

Chapter 16.

"Diana? Really?" My voice echoed inside the restroom stall as I stuffed my wet tank top and walking shorts into a plastic bag.

"I was shootin' a picture a Tilly when I seen two men slap cuffs on her and escort her back up the beach," said Nana. "I was pretty sure that must be the weird thing you warned us about, until Bernice started screamin', then I was torn."

"That wasn't weird," Tilly scoffed. "That was typical."

"It was real odd, dear. Diana didn't put up no fuss at all. Almost seemed like she was expectin' someone to drag her off."

I broke out the Seal Bay T-shirt and running shorts I'd just purchased in the gift shop. "Diana," I repeated. "I knew knew it was Diana." Or Roger. Or Conrad. Or Jake. "The police must have discovered evidence that connected her with Claire Bellows's death. I just wish I knew what. Henry told me yesterday that the police were coming, but he made me swear to keep it under my hat." it was Diana." Or Roger. Or Conrad. Or Jake. "The police must have discovered evidence that connected her with Claire Bellows's death. I just wish I knew what. Henry told me yesterday that the police were coming, but he made me swear to keep it under my hat."

"Do you think Diana was the person who took Marion's other two Polaroids at Port Campbell?" asked Tilly.

"Took Nana's Polaroids. Murdered Claire. Performed a cover-up with the angiosperms. Slipped Nora an overdose of drugs. For being on holiday, Diana Squires has been one busy botanist."

"You s'pose Henry's gonna explain to everyone why Diana's went away?"

"He'd better! He owes us some details." I stepped out of the stall and struck a supermodel pose. "Ta da! Dry again, except for my underwear."

"I got extra, dear." Nana opened her pocketbook and unfurled a pair of bloomers the size of a hot-air balloon. "They're real good ones. Fruit a the Loom. You wanna borrow 'em?"

"Mmm, you might want to offer them to Bernice. I think they're more her style."

"She won't want 'em. She says she's gonna stay in her wet clothes."

"Why? I told her the bank would foot the bill if she wanted to buy some dry clothing."

"If she's dry, she'd have nothing to complain about," said Tilly, "which would mean the Apocalypse is here."

"She talked Henry into lettin' her switch buses, though," said Nana. "She's sayin' she has to sit next to your young man so he can keep her warm. I don't wanna be an alarmist, dear, but you better watch out for her. I seen on Access Hollywood Access Hollywood where December/May flings are all the rage, and with her bunions gone, she can wear them hot shoes that drive men wild." where December/May flings are all the rage, and with her bunions gone, she can wear them hot shoes that drive men wild."

I smiled indulgently. "I'm not worried." I glanced in the wall mirror and screamed at the spike-haired freak who stared back. Ehh! Ehh! That couldn't be me. That couldn't be me.

I ran to the sink and yanked on my hair.

It was was me! Okay, now I was worried. "I can't go out looking like this!" me! Okay, now I was worried. "I can't go out looking like this!"

"Hollywood celebrities do all the time," said Tilly. "They think they're glam."

"Hollywood celebrities don't look like Bride of Chucky Bride of Chucky!"

Nana held up her bloomers. "I bet you could twist these into a real nice turban, dear. I got safety pins."

A knock on the outer door. "Ladies, I have to ask you to shake a leg. The buses are about to leave."

Panic filled Nana's eyes. She tossed me her bloomers and hit the door a half step ahead of Tilly. "See you out there, dear."

I looked in the mirror again, realized the hopelessness of the situation, then turned on the water full force and stuck my head under the faucet. When your short, sa.s.sy, Italian hairdo was having an off day, there was only one solution: improvise.

The buses were still loading when I ran out to the parking lot. Henry flagged me down and took me aside. "The excitement's over, Imily. Thanks for keeping mum. I'll make an announcement about Diana, but I'm going to wait until we're all togither at the airport this evening so everyone will git the news at the same time. You wouldn't believe how put out some blokes git whin they think they haven't received news first."

"What did the police tell you about her?"

"Nothing, other than she'd be traveling back to the mainland with thim, and they'd arrange for her bags to be picked up at the hotel."

"That's it? They didn't tell you what she's being charged with?"

"Are they supposed to? I thought they were being very informative tilling me what they did."

"You didn't hear them say something like, 'Book her, Dano, murder one?'"

"Murder! Diana killed someone?"

"I think she killed two someones. Claire Bellows and Nora Acres."

"Codswallop." He blinked numbly. "I've been in this business for eighteen years, and niveh once had dealings with the police. b.l.o.o.d.y hill, if she's a killer, they should have grabbed her a hill of a lot sooner!"