Pasta Imperfect - By Maddy Hunter Page 0,86

getting a bad feeling about this. I looked back to find him gesturing to me more furiously. "It's the police!" he shouted above the din. "You need to take over! I can't hear what the guy is saying!"

WAS HE NUTS? I didn't know how to control an angry mob! But that did give me an idea. I pressed the record lever of Jackie's tape recorder. "Memo to Mr. Erickson: It might be wise to include a section on mob control in the next printing of the official Escort's Manual." Hey, this was a pretty nifty little gadget!

The noise level rose to near deafening. Duncan shouted for calm, but when everyone ignored him, it reminded me that I did know something about mob control. I mean, I babysat my five nephews on a regular basis. I knew a lot!

Suddenly empowered, I let fly a shrill teakettle whistle that had people cupping their hands over their ears to prevent their eardrums from popping. I might not have Nana's expertise at Tae Kwon Do, but my whistle was so devastating, I could probably register it as a deadly weapon.

As I assumed the reins of command, Duncan retreated to the front desk area to resume his conversation with the Florence police. "Okay," I addressed the crowd when they removed their hands from their ears. "We need to take a vote."

That's all it took for Osmond Chelsvig to pop up with his new camcorder and begin to record the proceedings.

"I need a show of hands. How many people would like to continue the tour despite what's happened?"

Every member of the Iowa contingent shot a hand into the air, which wasn't surprising. They were so accustomed to people dying on tour that I suspected it didn't faze them anymore. "Twelve votes to continue. And how many people would like to throw in the towel and go home?"

Everyone else's hand shot upward. I sighed. "It looks like the majority of you would like to go home."

"You didn't ask for abstentions," Osmond said from behind his camera.

I directed a long, narrow look into his lens. "Are there any abstentions?" I asked stiffly.

"I abstain!" Jackie waved her arm over her head. "I don't know if I'd be better off continuing the tour or flying home early to finish my book. How long do you think it'll take me to finish? Eh! What if I can't complete the manuscript on time? Do you think they'll give me an extension? What if I can't handle the pressure? Oh, God. What have I done? What was I thinking? I HATE DEADLINES!"

"I think there's been bad karma on this tour ever since it began!" Fred jumped in. "Fires. Dead bodies. Who's gonna be next? I don't want to wait around to find out!"

I'd had this same discussion on our Swiss trip last year. On that occasion, the guests had decided to head for home before more disaster struck. But in this instance, the circumstances were entirely different, so knowing what I knew now, I felt confident trying to put a few minds at ease and possibly salvaging the trip. "I can just about guarantee you that no one else on this trip is going to fall down a flight of stairs and die," I stated with some authority.

"How do you know that?" Brandy Ann demanded.

"Because Gabriel Fox was caught trying to leave the country this morning. He's in the custody of the Rome police at the moment, and I suspect when they're through interrogating him, they're going to learn that he's the person responsible for all these so-called accidental deaths."

A collective gasp went around the room. "Gabriel Fox?" Mom repeated. "Oh, my goodness, Emily. Are you saying he's a murderer? But he's much too well groomed to be a criminal."

"Yeah!" Keely seconded. "Why are you picking on Gabriel? Just because he skipped out on this dopey gig doesn't mean he killed anyone."

"Did any of you know how much he really didn't want to be here?" I questioned. "Gabriel Fox despised romantic novels! He considered them so far beneath him that he conducted his own private war against them at Hightower. He couldn't stand the thought of not editing literary novels anymore, so when Philip Blackmore shoved romance down his throat, I suspect he planned his revenge by trying to rid the world of anyone who ever aspired to add her voice to the genre. He killed quietly and ruthlessly and was clever enough to make it look like an accident! All of you