Pasta Imperfect - By Maddy Hunter Page 0,82

asked from her perch on the sofa. "It's five minutes of eight. I want to hear the results."

"None of our luminaries are here," Brandy Ann yelled above the din. "Shouldn't they be here by now?"

"Does anyone know what room Philip Blackmore is in?" Amanda asked. "I could run up and get him."

I checked my watch: 7:57. Okay. Like it or not, I had to say something. "About the results of the contest," I said, skirting the edge of the group. "We ran into a rather significant problem today that might delay --"

"I'm here!" Mom announced as she barreled through the front door, red-faced and breathless. "I'm sorry I'm late, but I'll run upstairs to get the results and be right back. I know you're all champing at the bit, so I'll be quick. Just hang on." She charged past me without saying a word. I gave chase, catching up with her by the stairwell.

"Mom! What's going on?"

She peered up the length of the stairwell, at the risers that were covered with a spanking new rubber runner. "Oh, my goodness! Did the Dicks find time to do that this afternoon? What a nice job. I'll have to compliment them when I see them. I guess it must be safe to take the stairs now."

"Mom! Where is everyone?"

She looked beyond me to the waiting crowd. "I don't really have time for this now, Emily, but the big news is, I talked to the president of Hightower Publications on Duncan's phone from the hospital, and you'll never guess. He put me in charge!"

"Of what?"

"Of everything. I believe his exact words were, 'The show must go on.' He refused to serve up any more disappointment to the guests, so the tour is continuing, and I'm calling the shots. Isn't this exciting?"

Mom was in charge? Oh, God. What was wrong with this picture?

"We can talk later, Emily. I have to get those contest results before the natives get too restless." Up the stairs she bounded, leaving me to stare after her. Mom was in charge?

"Buona sera, pretty."

I let out a little yelp at the sound of Duncan's voice behind me.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

"Where have you guys been?" I asked, motioning him into the hallway around the corner so he could explain in relative privacy.

He braced a shoulder against the wall and brushed a wisp of hair off my cheek. "Socialized medicine. It takes forever. They're keeping Marla and Gillian overnight for observation. Have you told anyone about Philip yet?"

"I figured that was your job."

"Good girl." He smiled at me with his eyes, then let out a sigh that smacked of utter weariness. "I'll break the news after your mother announces the winner of the contest. God, can anything else go wrong on this trip?"

I winced involuntarily. "Is that a rhetorical question, or do you really want to know?"

"Never mind. Pretend I didn't ask." He checked his watch. "You didn't hear from Officer Piccione this afternoon, did you? I'd like the final word about whether he's intending to question the group about Sylvia's death. When he receives her autopsy results, I suspect he'll decide further questioning won't be necessary. But I'd like to know for sure."

That gave me a jolt. "What do you expect him to find in the autopsy results?"

He snapped his fingers. "That's right. You weren't at dinner last night. You didn't see --"

"That's it, ladies," Jackie's voice rang out from the hall to my left. "Quick like bunnies. We don't want to miss the big moment."

I glanced down the shadowed corridor to find Jackie herding two elderly women in leopard skin pants and tank tops toward us. Their hair was Howdy-Doody orange, styled into manly buzz cuts, and from their ears hung long clusters of beads that rattled softly as they scurried in our direction. Good God, where had she picked up these two --

OH MY GOD! IT WAS THE SEVERID TWINS!

They stumbled past in strappy high-heeled sandals with toe thongs. They winked at me with thickly mascaraed eyes and waved with glittery fingernails that were as gold as their earrings. "We'd stop to talk," said Barbro --

"But we don't want to miss the big moment," Britha finished for her, hastening toward the lobby.

EH! I gripped Jackie's arm as she sashayed by in a pink leather miniskirt. "What did you do to them?"

"Don't they look adorable?"

"Sure! If you like geriatric butch!"

"And I took them shopping afterward," she said proudly.

Duncan cleared his throat and made an awkward gesture toward