hopped giddily up and down, then bent down to yank Britha and Barbro off the floor to hop with her.
"Well, would you lookit that," said Nana, staring at the trio. "You have any notion she entered that contest?"
I shook my head in slow motion, too stunned for words.
"That Jackie's sure got a lot a talent," Nana philosophized. "Maybe you shoulda stayed married to her."
A smattering of applause trickled through the room as Jackie curtsied and bowed. "Jackie Thum," she burbled, wishboning her arms in victory. "Romance author! But tell me honestly. Do you think I should have a pen name? Something more literary? What about Jackie with a 'qu' instead of a 'k'?"
"What about Jackie O?" Grace Stolee suggested.
Spirited applause from the Iowa contingent for Grace's suggestion.
"I kinda like Yora Fink," Keely offered, sneering.
Scattered applause. A few hisses.
"I knew some Finks in Minnesota," Nana whispered to me. "Nice Scandinavian family. You s'pose they're any relation?"
I wandered over to Jackie. As she settled the twins back onto the floor, I muttered in an undertone, "I thought you said you didn't read romance novels."
She shrugged prettily. "I lied."
"So what about your plans to become a tour guide escort? That's why you're on this trip! That's why you bought the little minirecorder. That's what you want to become!"
She retrieved her minirecorder from her shoulder bag and slapped it into my hand. "Here. You can have this. I won't be needing it anymore. No offense, Emily, but your job is a drag. I don't think I'd last more than a day. And let's be honest. Don't you think I'm better suited to stardom than servitude?"
I gave my eyes a major roll as Duncan took the floor again. "Congratulations to Jackie on her win," he said in a mellow voice. "I'm sure we'll all look forward to seeing her name in print."
Considering the disappointed scowls on most of the faces in the room, I wouldn't bet the farm on it.
"How about teasing us a little with the book's plot," he coaxed.
Jackie gnawed on her lower lip for a moment. "Umm, okay. It's the story of a small-town woman's desperate search to find love again after her husband dumps her for another man in the cutthroat world of Broadway theater. Kinda like Midnight Cowboy meets A Chorus Line."
I hung my head and covered my eyes. Oh, God.
"Sounds as though it has best seller written all over it. Good luck with your new career." He took a deep breath, a pained look creeping into his rugged features. "Our next order of business is one that I regret having to share with you." His voice dropped an octave. "I'm sorry to report that Philip Blackmore was involved in a freak accident this afternoon. On his way to lunch, he apparently lost his balance and fell onto the embankment near the Ponte Vecchio. I wish I could tell you that this particular story has a happy ending, but it doesn't. Philip Blackmore died from his injuries at approximately one o'clock this afternoon."
Gasps. Cries. Shocked whispers.
"Marla and Gillian were with him, and they're fine," he continued, "but they were so traumatized, they're being held for observation at the local hospital."
Silence overtook shock. Alarm filled eyes. Uneasiness weighted shoulders. People looked at Duncan and at each other, fearful and wary.
"This is too weird for words," Keely called out. "Passion and Pasta Tour my ass. It's more like the Passion and Perish Tour. What about the lectures we were promised? The insider tips from the experts? The chance to talk one-on-one with people who could get us published? The only thing you've been consistent about delivering so far are dead bodies!"
"Yeah," Amanda agreed. "This tour is bogus. I want a full refund!"
"I want a refund, and I want to go home!" Brandy Ann chimed in, starting a chain reaction that boiled over into shouts, snarls, and verbal chaos. I took a step back from the crowd. Whoa! I was sure glad I wasn't in charge right now. This was scary. I watched Duncan very carefully to see how he'd handle the situation.
He cocked his head as if listening to something, snatched his cell phone from its holster, and pressed it to his ear. Ah, yes. The beauty of the mobile phone -- allowing you the opportunity to be interrupted at the most inconvenient times of your life.
He said something into the phone, then glanced in my direction, motioning to someone behind me. I turned around.
There was no one behind me.
Unh-oh. I was