G'Day To Die Part 9

I was relieved she wasn't choking. I wouldn't be able to use the Heimlich maneuver for another hundred years. "Umm, it must have been the Meridia II. Meridia II. The Roman numeral probably washed off in high seas when we were rounding the horn, or the Cape, or something. I'm not exactly sure which route we took." I touched the lacy scrolls and arabesques of the gold band. "Would it be all right if I tried this on?" The Roman numeral probably washed off in high seas when we were rounding the horn, or the Cape, or something. I'm not exactly sure which route we took." I touched the lacy scrolls and arabesques of the gold band. "Would it be all right if I tried this on?"

"Allow me." She slid it onto my ring finger, cooing at the fit. "We wouldn't have to make any adjustments. It's as if it were made for you."

It certainly was unusual, combining the serpentine grace of Florentine and Celtic designs. I loved all the twisty-turny spirals and loops.

"It washed up on the beach at Loch Ard Gorge, probably from one of the many wrecks. It looks to be the kind of bauble a gentleman might present to a lady when he proposes marriage, doesn't it? One only hopes the gentleman lived long enough to take a bride. Shall I wrap it up for you?"

I checked the price on the attached tag. Eh! Eh! Even with the favorable exchange rate, in order to pay for it, I'd have to omit either food or rent from my budget. I rechecked the tag and winced. Maybe both. "It's a teensy expensive," I said as I slid it reluctantly off my finger. Even with the favorable exchange rate, in order to pay for it, I'd have to omit either food or rent from my budget. I rechecked the tag and winced. Maybe both. "It's a teensy expensive," I said as I slid it reluctantly off my finger.

"You're paying for the fine craftsmanship."

I stared at it forlornly. It was speaking to me. Nuts. I wondered if the clerk would think me too weird if I clapped my hands over my ears.

"By any chance, would your last name be Madelyn?" the clerk asked in a curious tone. "There were several members of the Madelyn clan who survived the wreck of the first Meridia Meridia. Might you be a relative?"

"You know about the Madelyns?"

She smiled indulgently. "Everyone in this part of Victoria knows about the Madelyns. They were heroes, risking life and limb to save drowning pa.s.sengers. Carrying them to safety up those treacherous cliff paths. They became such a vital force in the communities they married into that we often refer to them as Victoria's First Family. Next to the Queen, they're our closest link to royalty."

"I know know one of the Madelyns!" I enthused. "You should talk to him. He'd be so excited to hear what you-" one of the Madelyns!" I enthused. "You should talk to him. He'd be so excited to hear what you-"

"Forgive me for stealing your customer," Etienne apologized to the clerk as he circled his arm around my waist and herded me out the door, "but this can't wait." He hurried me across the street toward the New York Bakery, sent surrept.i.tious glances north and south, then feinted left, ducking onto the street that ran behind the eatery. In the absence of foot traffic, he pinned me to the restaurant's rear wall and kissed me with the urgency of a man whose v.i.a.g.r.a fix was about to expire. His breathing was rapid; his mouth was hot. This was the perfect moment.

"Back to the retirement thing," I mumbled against his lips.

"Shhh. I'm trying to make love to you."

"In an alleyway?"

"I'm desperate. Kiss me, Emily."

"There you are, Miceli," Duncan called from a distance.

Etienne stiffened like a sprung trap. "Merda." "Merda."

Uh-oh. I knew what that meant, and it wasn't good.

"I turned around and you were gone." Duncan entered the alleyway at a quick clip, sounding a little breathless. "I thought you'd had a Madelyn sighting and were taking evasive action, but I obviously drew the wrong conclusion. You were hungry for sweets." He gave me a sizzling once-over and smiled.

"What is is it with you two and Guy?" I looked from one to the other. "He's a very nice man, but don't you think the photography thing is turning into a bit of an obsession?" it with you two and Guy?" I looked from one to the other. "He's a very nice man, but don't you think the photography thing is turning into a bit of an obsession?"

Duncan raised an eyebrow at Etienne. "You haven't told her yet?"

"Told me what?"

Etienne's face flooded with color. "Madelyn wants to branch out into fashion photography, so he's putting a portfolio together. His photos of Lazarus and me have apparently turned out so well that he's planning to submit them to several high-fashion magazines."

"No kidding?" Where was the justice? Guy's photos of me end up in cyber trash; his photos of Etienne and Duncan end up in GQ GQ. "So that's why he's been monopolizing the daylights out of you. Congratulations on being so photogenic! Wow. Does this mean the two of you could be responsible for making him even more famous than he is now?"

"This is where it gets a little tricky," Duncan hedged. "He thinks that once he submits the photos, Miceli and I are going to become the famous ones. He's expecting us to create the same kind of sensation that Burt Reynolds caused when he posed in the altogether for that centerfold in Cosmo Cosmo years ago, only we'll have clothes on." years ago, only we'll have clothes on."

"Oh, my G.o.d! The two of you are going to become glitterati?"

"NO!" they replied in unison.

"We're not models," Etienne scoffed.

"Or girly boys," Duncan added.

"Do we look as if we could exercise judgment that poor?" Etienne asked. "Papparazzi "Papparazzi? Crazed fans? Entertainment Tonight Entertainment Tonight?"

"You don't want to be famous?"

"NO!" they replied again.

"Have you told Guy?"

"YES!"

Boy, they had the unison thing down to a science.

"We've told him to submit the photos if they can further his career, but not to meddle in ours," Duncan said, glancing back toward Main Street. "We want to remain anonymous."

"We've also told him no more photos," Etienne added, "but he's having a difficult time keeping his finger off the shutter b.u.t.ton. He's a half step shy of stalking us."

"Hey, guys, I have good news. You don't have to worry about him pestering you the rest of the afternoon because he volunteered to keep Bernice occu-"

"He's headed our way," Duncan warned. "Come on, Miceli. We're outta here."

"Sorry, bella bella." Etienne blew me a kiss.

"But-" They were gone before I could finish. "Can't you just tell him to b.u.g.g.e.r off?"

I sighed. Men Men. They simply had no idea how to say it tactfully. Guess I'd have to show them how it was done. Dealing with Bernice had turned me into a master of tact.

I stepped out of the alleyway, prepared to confront Guy, but the street was deserted. I jaunted up to Main Street and looked both ways, but I still couldn't see him.

Huh. That was funny. Or was it?

Either Duncan's eyes were playing tricks on him or he and Etienne were playing a game much different than Survivor Survivor.

They were playing keep away.

Chapter 8.

Alone once more, I decided to "power tour" Sovereign Hill before breaking for lunch. In the s.p.a.ce of an hour I hiked to the far end of Main Street to sign up for a gold mine tour, watched a bald guy melt a bar of gold into liquid that could be poured like orange juice, listened to the far-off report of musket fire, bought a lace doily for my mom at David Jones Criterion Store, took a few pictures of a supply wagon whose cargo of canvas bales rose higher than the roofs of most buildings, then bypa.s.sed the Victorian dining experience offered at the United States Hotel and New York Bakery in favor of something more my style: The Refreshment Kiosk.

The kiosk offered cafeteria-style dining, so I paid the cashier at the end of the food line for my hot dog, chips, and soft drink, then scoped out the picnic tables in the overcrowded dining area for an available seat.

Henry walked toward me, carrying an empty tray. "You can have my seat if you hurry. Table in the lift corner, nixt to the wall. Some other tour blokes are there to keep you company."

"Thanks!" Gee, that was lucky. It was only after I arrived at the table that I wished I'd taken the elegant dining option. There were nine people at the table and only one seat available, right between Diana Squires and everyone's favorite fear monger, Jake Silverthorn. d.a.m.n.

"Hi, there, Miss Emily." Guy Madelyn stabbed his fork at the empty s.p.a.ce. "Feel free to join us if you can handle the tight squeeze."

"My money says she'll pa.s.s," Jake said, rolling his toothpick from one corner of his mouth to the other. "Looks too skittish to abide small s.p.a.ces."

Lola sat at the end of the bench, directly opposite Heath and Nora. She stared at me, her eyes issuing a challenge. "Bite ya b.u.m, Jake. Make room for the lady. I'm sure there's nothin' she'd like bitter than to cuddle up nixt to you while she's eating her weinah. Isn't that right, Imily?"

I wasn't sure what kind of game these two were playing, but if they thought they could scare me- Well, they were were scaring me, but Jake's plate was empty. Chances were, he'd be leaving soon. scaring me, but Jake's plate was empty. Chances were, he'd be leaving soon.

"Come right over here and set your keister down beside me," Diana said. She nudged Bernice, who anch.o.r.ed the bench on her right, "Would you mind sliding over?"

"WHAT?" Bernice shouted.

Guy held up his hand in apology. "You'll have to forgive her. The musket-firing demonstration seems to have short-circuited the hearing aid in her one ear and deafened her in the other. But it's nothing to worry about. They tell me this happens to people all the time and the effects are only temporary."

"WHAT?"

Oh, G.o.d.

"SLIDE DOWN, BERNICE!" Lucille Ra.s.smuson gesticulated wildly from across the table. "MAKE ROOM FOR EMILY."

In an effort to prevent us all from going deaf, I set my tray on the table and squeezed nimbly between Jake and Diana. "Well, would you look at that? I have room and then some, so you can tell Bernice to stay right where she is."

"You tell her," Lucille fussed. "Your vocal cords are younger."

Nora Acres stared at me with her too-blue eyes. "If you don't live in the orphanage," she asked in her sandpaper voice, "where do you live?"

"I live in the United States, in the middle of the country, not too far from the city of Chicago. Have you heard of Chicago?"

"Is that near the Big Apple?"

"West of the Big Apple."

"I live near the Big Winch."

Heath draped his arm around his mother's shoulder. "Coober Pedy's most famous tourist attraction is the Big Winch."

"Winch or wench?" asked Roger. "If it's wench, you've got my attention."

"It's a gigantic bucket hanging from a crosspiece that has a crank on each ind," said Heath. "A winch. All that's missing is a will."

"I've seen the Big Banana," Nora muttered.

"The concrete thing at Coffs Harbour?" asked Lola. She dismissed it with a flick of her wrist. "Too cheesy for words. But Jake loooved loooved the theme park, didn't you, Jakey?" the theme park, didn't you, Jakey?"

Jake fell into the kind of silence that usually precedes volcanic eruptions. I shoved half my hot dog bun into my mouth and chewed furiously, hoping to get out of here before the ash began to fly.

Roger Piccolo caught Heath's eye. "This is pure speculation, but would I be right to a.s.sume that Coober Pedy is intensely hot throughout the year?"

"Coober Pedy's so hot, the divil moved out a few years back," Heath teased.

"Wreaks havoc on the skin, doesn't it?"

Heath arched an eyebrow. "We're not a town of beauty queens, mate."

"I've visited the Big Oyster," said Nora. "It has searchlights for eyes."

Roger pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "What I'm trying to ask without sounding too insensitive is, do most of the people end up looking like your mother?"

Heath's expression grew hard. "You'd bitter mind what you're saying."

"I'm trying to help! I'm a researcher for a company called GenerX Technologies, and I'd like to work with your mother to freshen her complexion. I can reverse sun damage and any visible signs of aging without scalpels or harsh chemicals and have her looking decades younger in a matter of months. Wouldn't you like to see her lose the wrinkles? She could become the poster child for the nonsurgical face-lift. We could feature her on infomercials and follow up with a doc.u.mentary that would go directly to DVD."

"All the tables in the room, and I have to pick the one with the resident con artist," Diana Squires groaned. She jabbed a cautionary finger at Heath. "Don't believe a word he's telling you. He'll take you to the cleaners and leave your mom with the same number of wrinkles she has now. That garbage he sells might even give her a few more."

Roger's flabby cheeks puffed with indignation. "Well, well, well. I heard the compet.i.tion walked among us. So, you're the Infinity maggot. Kee-reist, I knew the stench in here was coming from more than just the boiled hot dogs."

My hot dog was boiled? I stared cross-eyed at the uneaten portion sticking out of my mouth. I stared cross-eyed at the uneaten portion sticking out of my mouth. Euw. Euw. I hated boiled hot dogs. I hated boiled hot dogs.

"What you're smelling is success," Diana shot back. "Considering the pathetic results GenerX has had with its product, I can understand why the scent is foreign to you."

"I don't know how industry maggots acquire their information," Roger challenged, "but yours is all wrong. Your company would kill for GenerX's market share, but it ain't ever gonna happen because your product is c.r.a.p."

"I've visited the Big Bull," said Nora. "It's got b.o.l.l.o.c.ks wot swing in the breeze."

Jake sailed a sc.r.a.p of paper across the table at Roger. "What's that?" Roger snapped, salvaging it from the clutter on his tray.

"Business card. For a small fee, I can take care of maggots for you. Jake Silverthorn. Bug Be Gone. No pist is too tough for me to tackle. Ants, roaches, spidehs, snakes, and"-he looked from Roger to Diana-"the occasional maggot."

Diana sucked in her breath and stared at him, aghast. "Are you threatening me?"

"What is is it with you people?" Lucille hollered. "Can't you see some of us are trying to eat? Maggots. Ants. Enough with the bug talk already!" She shot menacing looks at Jake and Roger before shoving a forkful of macaroni and cheese into her mouth. it with you people?" Lucille hollered. "Can't you see some of us are trying to eat? Maggots. Ants. Enough with the bug talk already!" She shot menacing looks at Jake and Roger before shoving a forkful of macaroni and cheese into her mouth.

"What's your problem?" Jake taunted in an oily voice. "Bugs make you squeamish?"

She slammed her fist down so hard, our trays jumped. "Listen, spider man, before my d.i.c.k pa.s.sed away, he operated the largest pest control company in Windsor City, Iowa. Our retirement fund was built on the backs of dead bugs, so don't accuse me of being squeamish."

"I bit your Iowa bugs can't kill you."

"Maybe not," Lucille conceded, looking Cheshire Cat smug, "but our bugs are a d.a.m.ned sight uglier than the ones you've got here! So there."