Rome police he refused to demean himself by returning to Florence to judge Philip Blackmore's imbecilic contest. And he implied he'd rather chew razor blades than spend more time with that, and I quote, 'crazed flock of wannabe writers,' unquote. So he decided to fly back to the States instead."
"Can he be charged with anything?"
"He's guilty of chickening out, which isn't a crime. It's a personality flaw, not even prosecutable in Italy." He bent his head and said in a whisper so close to my ear, I could feel his breath, "It's a common frailty among people who aren't from Iowa."
Chapter 14
I returned to my room, wondering if anyone would miss me if I flew home, too. I mean, with the way this trip was going, I doubted I'd miss myself! I'd maligned Gabriel Fox to the point where he could sue me. I'd sent Nana on a wild-goose chase over the Internet when she could have been canoodling. I'd wasted an entire day tailing people when I could have been shopping. I'd prompted Jackie to parade around as a poorly dressed transvestite stalker. I'd labeled every accident a capital crime and ended up looking like the tour escort who'd cried wolf. And I didn't even want to get started on my love life. I was having "connection interruptus" with the man I wanted and "connection overloadus" with the man I didn't. AARGH! Maybe I could just lock myself in the bathroom and turn on the shower. That could put a quick end to my misery.
I walked to the bathroom and inspected the folding door. The lock was broken, so it wouldn't stay shut. Great. With my luck the water would all leak out before I could drown myself, and I'd end up having to pay for flood damage.
Wallowing in self-pity, I grabbed my suitcase and swung it onto the bed, then plopped down beside it, burying my face in the crook of my elbow. Maybe I should have taken Duncan up on his offer. I could use a drink. I could use a lot of drinks. But I knew that kind of remedy wouldn't work. I was too hard-core Midwestern to resort to drowning my sorrows in a bottle. I needed to look for a silver lining rather than drink myself into oblivion. Philip Blackmore had tried that, and look where it had gotten him.
Giving myself an invisible slap upside the head, I forced myself to a sitting position and took mental stock of the situation. Okay, I might have ended up with egg all over my face, but the good news was, there was no killer on the tour. Duh! How could I feel bad about that? The deaths had all been accidental, so if people started watching out where they stepped, maybe we could continue the rest of the tour without incident.
I felt a sudden release of tension in my muscles.
As for being sued, if no one told Gabriel Fox about what I'd said, he'd have no reason to sue me, right? I pondered that. No one would tell him, would they? Gillian and Marla hadn't heard my accusation, and Jackie surely wouldn't rat on me. So what were the chances that anyone else on this tour would ever have contact with him again? Slim to none, I'd guess.
A hint of a smile pulled at the corners of my mouth.
As for the other stuff, Nana always enjoyed surfing the Internet, Jackie loved playing dress-up, I still had loads of time to shop, and Etienne -- My brain executed a mental somersault. Oh, my God! Etienne was rich! What had he said? Seven hundred thousand American dollars? Why, that was -- I added three zeroes and multplied by two -- that was like 1.4 billion lire! Wow!
A full-blown smile raced across my lips. Okay, this wasn't so bad. This wasn't bad at all!
I dived for my cell phone. "Etienne? I was just thinking about --"
"Signorina Andrew?" said the voice on the other end. "Dis Officer Agripino Piccione. Devo scusarmi. Our phone line no good today. I have message you want speak wit me."
I paused, swallowing my disappointment. "I did want to speak to you. Earlier. I had information about Gabriel Fox I wanted to share with you, but since the information isn't relevant anymore, I guess I don't need to talk to you after all. Sorry to have bothered you."
"Bene, bene. No boder. Signor Lazarus, is he at hotel wit you? His line