G'Day To Die Page 18

  “According to Carol, they should be on the island alriddy, so we need to sit tight and wait for thim to show up.”

  “They’re coming all the way to Kangaroo Island to make the arrest? Why didn’t they do it in Adelaide?”

  He regarded me thoughtfully before pressing redial on his phone. “This is Hinry again. Why didn’t the police make the arrest in Adelaide?” He paused, rolling his eyes. “Easy on, it’s a fair question. You don’t have to—I was only—Flaming hill.” He disconnected and gave me a sour look. “He said he invited the authorities to the office for tea and interrogation, but they declined his invitation.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’ll translate. He doesn’t know any more than what he’s already told me.” He threw a cautious look around us. “I’d appreciate it if you could keep your group out of the thick of things when the police arrive, Imily. I don’t want anyone ilse gitting hurt.”

  I gave him a thumbs-up. Good thinking to isolate the group from the perpetrator. You just never knew what a cornered rat might do.

  Chapter 15

  Our footgear sent up a deafening clatter as we walked the boardwalk leading down to the beach at Seal Bay Conservation Park. “I apologize for the wind,” said the park ranger in charge of our group, his hand anchoring his wide-brimmed hat, “but there’s nothing between here and Antarctica to stop it.”

  The ocean roared before us, angrily whitecapped and aquamarine in the sun. Waves pounded the sand where scores of sea lions basked like garden slugs. “The colony here numbehs about five hundred, but on average, you’ll see no more than a hundred snoozing on the beach at any one time. Whin the weather’s poor, they hid for higher ground and snuggle under the scrub on the dunes.”

  The dunes swept east and west, rolling toward high, rocky headlands that were stark as an Irish moor.

  “Whin we’re on the beach, I’ll ask you to git no closer than four meters to the animals. If they feel thritened, they’ll give chase, and I can guarantee you don’t want to be singled out by a five-hundred-kilo bull.”

  “How much is five hundred kilos?” asked Lucille Rassmuson.

  The ranger smiled. “Enough to roll you flatter than piecrust. Be careful on the stairs now. They’re fairly steep. Hold on to the railings.”

  A logjam formed at the top of the stairs as guests with bad knees and replacement hips waited their turn to grab the handrails. Roger Piccolo appeared at my side, looking impatient with the holdup. “All this could be avoided if the AARPers would lose the diet colas and knock back a few health shakes. Have I mentioned that our products actually regenerate joint cartilage?”

  We’d already had this conversation. I whipped out the sympathy card. “Would you like to sign this while you’re standing here?”

  “What the hell. The old crone didn’t do me any favors, but you have to admire her kid for being so devoted to her. He looked worse than she did after she collapsed.” He signed the card and handed it back. “He’ll probably feel guilty for the rest of his life about signing her up for this tour, but hey, when you’re as old as she was, the old Pearly Gates loom large as the next travel destination.”

  “Did you know she was only fifty-seven?”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Henry. It was on her medical form.”

  He muttered an epithet that expressed his doubt in one explosive syllable. “Show me her birth certificate with the gold seal of authenticity. That’s the only way you’ll ever convince me.”

  “I’m not sure she had an authentic birth certificate. I think a lot of her personal records were lost when she emigrated. Heath told me she was a war orphan. I guess war affects even the people who aren’t involved in the fighting.”

  “If they ever find her real birth certificate, they’ll discover she was ancient. You want my theory? She died from massive deterioration of all her major organs.”

  If he was the guilty party who’d dispensed the drug overdose, he had to be hoping that’s what the medical examiner found. Diseased organs probably couldn’t bear the same level of scrutiny as healthy ones, which could very well let him off the hook.

  I invited more guests to sign my card while we waited. Conrad had a microscopic signature, as if he were trying to keep his name a secret, while Ellie’s was the size of John Hancock’s. I’m sure it said something about their personalities, but not being a handwriting expert, I didn’t have a clue what. Lola dotted the “i” in Silverthorn with an enormous heart, and Jake shoved the card back at me and suggested I buzz off. “He was aiming to shag my wife! Git the bloody hill away from me.”

  Nana and Tilly strolled up to me, all smiles. “If you gotta visit the potty, dear, use the one in the souvenir shop. The Aussies have a real gift for designin’ pretty potties.” She lowered her voice. “They could give the Italians a few pointers.”

  I grabbed their arms and pulled them aside. “I didn’t want to say anything on the bus, but I have news about Nora. Henry received a call from Heath. There’s evidence she may have died from a drug overdose.”

  Nana gasped in shock. “She was one a them addicts? I’ll be. Just like on that egg commercial on the TV.”

  “What egg commercial?” asked Tilly.

  “The one what shows a fella talkin’ about your brain then fryin’ up a couple a eggs. If you hit the mute button, you can’t tell if he’s advertisin’ breakfast at Perkins or nonstick cookin’ spray.” She regarded me seriously. “Was it heroin or coke?”

  “Neither! She wasn’t a drug addict. She didn’t even do aspirin.”

  “So what did she overdose on if not recreational or hard drugs?” asked Tilly.

  “They don’t know yet, but—too much of anything can kill you, right?”

  Tilly nodded. “Too much water. Too much prescription medication. Too many over-the-counter painkillers and herbal remedies.”

  “Too much sex,” said Nana.

  I gave her the evil eye. “I wouldn’t know. Anyway, everything is going to be coming to a head very shortly, so if you see anything weird happening, keep your distance. Pass the word along to the rest of the gang, okay?”

  “How am I s’posed to know if it’s weirdl?” asked Nana.

  “I’ll help,” Tilly assured as she urged Nana forward. “Recognizing deviant human behavior has been my stock in trade for a half century.”

  When the crowd thinned I descended the stairs, awestruck by the beach’s savage beauty, charmed by the clusters of furry creatures who lazed belly-up in the sun, a little annoyed by the sand that was blasting me in the face. If Iowa had a shoreline that faced Antarctica, I guess I might have realized that hurricane winds plus beach sand equals microderm abrasion. But the good news was, it was free of charge!

  While the ranger guided the group down the beach, I plopped onto the sand, kicked off my sandals, assumed the lotus position, and angled my face into the wind.

  “What are you doing, bella?” Amusement filled Etienne’s voice as he sat down behind me, wishboning his arms and legs around my body.

  “Exfoliating.”

  “And the purpose of that is?”

  “To make my skin soft and supple.”

  He smoothed his hands down my bare arms. “It’s working.”

  “Where did you leave your shadow?” My voice was breathy as he nuzzled my ear.

  “He’s browsing in the gift shop. I think Lazarus is a closet shopaholic. You know what that means, don’t you?”

  “He has an American Express card with no credit limit?”

  “He travels heavy. No plane will ever be able to transport the two of you at the same time, which, of course, bodes well for me.”

  “Try to be nice.”

  “I’d rather try something else.” He drew my earlobe into his mouth, causing every bone in my body to liquefy. I fell out of lotus position and wilted against him, uttering a little moan. This wasn’t doing much for my complexion, but my hormones were having a field day.

  “Would this be a good
time to discuss your retirement plans?” I heard myself say in my erotic delirium.

  “Bella, bella, wouldn’t you rather hear how much I love you? Or how turned on I am right now? Or what indecent plans I have for these beautifully long legs of yours?”

  That was the other thing about men. They always changed the subject when you mentioned something they didn’t want to talk about. “How indecent?”

  “Obscenely so.” He laughed as he rained kisses on my neck. “Ti amo, bella. Sposiamoci.”

  I sighed my frustration. “What does that mean?”

  “Marry me, Emily.”

  “I’d seriously consider it if we could talk about—”

  “Shhh. I’ve arranged a package deal. Would you like to hear the details?”

  I tried to look nonchalant as a ranger traipsed past us with another small group of tourists. “I’m listening.”

  “What do you love most about your job?”

  “Being curled up on the beach with you.”

  “Besides that.”

  “My paycheck. Did I tell you Mr. Erickson gave me a three percent raise last year? That’s pretty kick-ass in this economy.”

  “How would you react if someone offered you twice your current salary to do exactly what you’re doing now?”

  “What?” I nearly snapped my head out of joint as I twisted around.

  “I’ve purchased a tour company, bella. Deluxe accommodations for the senior traveler at discount prices. I’m gearing up for your American baby boomers. When they retire and start traveling en masse, I’m going to dazzle them with travel packages they won’t be able to pass up. Exclusive hotels. Exotic destinations. Gourmet cuisine.”

  It took a moment for his words to register. “You bought a tour company?”

  “I did, indeed. All that’s missing is a catchy name…and you. Come work for me, Emily. I’m going to need a small army of people to fill positions like yours, and I’d like to begin by hiring you.”

  “At double my salary? Are you kidding?”

  “Double isn’t enough? You drive a hard bargain. All right, triple.”

  “No, I’m not questioning your generosity! I’m just amazed that you decided to do something so unpredictable. This is so unlike you.”

  “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? 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 Dicks 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.

  “HELLLLLLP!”

  “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 hell. I slogged through the sand after her, intercepting her as a rogue wave crashed onto shore and upended both of us, tossing us around like empty Coke 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 damn thing was still coming. I shook Bernice’s limb. “Are you alive?”

  She wheezed deeply. “My—” 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-crap.”

  My 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.”

  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 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 them? How can you sell them? Look at them. They’re ruined!”

  “You are 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’?”

  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?”