Pasta Imperfect - By Maddy Hunter Page 0,98
--" Oh, God! I couldn't have whacked the wrong one, could I?
"Roses are red, violets are blue," I shouted over the racket of the fire alarm.
"I'm still alive, all thanks to you!"
I smiled at Barbro Severid. Oh, yeah. Right twin.
Chapter 15
So I borrowed a lesson from you with the fire alarm and decided that was the best way to gather everyone into the lobby to tell them about the change of plans tomorrow." Duncan caressed the stem of his wineglass as if it were an intimate part of the female body, but I tried hard not to make anything of it.
The hour was just shy of midnight, and we were at an open-air restaurant in the Piazza della Repubblica, surrounded by white linen-draped tables, singing waiters, and hundreds of twinkling minilights. The police had come and gone, taking Britha Severid with them. Mom and Nana were taking Barbro under their dual wings, lending comfort and support. Nana was pretty excited about her new role, saying it was almost as good as attending a wake. I figured if she was forced to spend more time with Barbro, maybe George would have a better chance of survival.
"I'm glad the fire was only a false alarm," I said, taking a sip of my wine. "But I have to admit, it came at a good time. It kind of got my adrenaline pumping."
Duncan traced a fingertip along the back of my hand. "That old adrenaline," he said in a husky voice. "Hard to keep it from pumping sometimes. I'm curious. Are the tours you escort always this...eventful?"
I thought about that for a moment. "Yeah. I think they are."
"And where is it you'll be escorting your next tour?"
"Hawaii. Over Halloween. It's a cruise of the islands."
"Sounds wonderful. I'll be sure to stay at the opposite end of the world."
"These situations are not my fault!"
He elevated one skeptical eyebrow at me. "What I want to know is, how did Britha do it? When did she lace his water with the alcohol?"
"From what Barbro was able to figure out, Britha must have pocketed Philip's duplicate key when she got back from dinner last night, then entered his room this morning just after breakfast while he was waiting in line to take the elevator. The elevator was so slow, it gave her plenty of time. Barbro was taking her turn in the bathroom, so the coast was clear."
"I guess a man needs to watch himself around women from Iowa. There's more to them than meets the eye."
I leaned back in my chair, searching his face with my eyes. "What's going to happen to Britha? Will they test her mental competency? Try her here? Send her back home?"
Duncan shook his head. "I hate to admit it, but I don't know much about the criminal justice system here. Nothing like this has ever happened on one of my tours before. But we can pay a visit to the police station tomorrow before we go. They should be able to answer some of our questions. Will that work for you?"
I nodded my thanks. Okay, Duncan Lazarus wasn't a killer. He was a very nice, very intelligent, very sexy man. And I was going to be spending ten more days with him. Oh, God.
He grinned widely. "Now, would you like to tell me how you knew which twin to clobber with your bottled water? How could you tell them apart? They look exactly alike."
"Mmm, not exactly. One teensy feature is different."
"And that is...?"
I tugged on my ear. He looked confused. "Carol Burnett used to do that at the end of her variety show," he commented. "I caught all the reruns when I visited my grandparents in the States."
I rolled my eyes and tugged again.
"Their ears are different?" he asked tentatively.
"Their lobes. Britha's lobes are attached. Barbro's are detached."
"Detached from what?"
I smiled coyly. "Britha's lobes don't drop away from her ear. They form a continuous curve. They're attached. Barbro's, on the other hand, form a little teardrop of skin that hangs slightly below the ear. The lobes are de tached. Britha's earring fell off at the top of the Duomo, and that's why. She didn't have as much lobe to attach a clip-on to."
"And people never noticed the difference between them because --?"
"Because it was only a minor irregularity and most probably because...they always wore earrings!"
"And you observed this how?"
My smile widened. "From a photo I took of them. Digital cameras are amazing."
As a chorus of violins struck up a tune from the front of the restaurant, Duncan shook his head, laughing. "Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. But I have some bad news for you." He circled his hand around mine, his thumb resting on the pulse point at my wrist. "The hotel is going to charge you for that bottle of water you used on Britha. You apparently cracked the plastic. The water all leaked out."
"No problem. I saved lots of money on the leather jacket I didn't buy." I bowed my head, hesitant to ask this next question, but needing some kind of closure. "I don't mean to pry, Duncan, and I know it's painful for you to talk about, so I apologize, but would you mind telling me" -- I lifted my eyes to his -- "what was your sister's married name?"
He regarded me askance. "O'Grady. Molly O'Grady. She met a black-haired Irishman at Trinity College in Dublin and knew instantly that she'd found her soulmate. Funny how some people just know."
I shivered at the look he gave me. "How did she die?" I asked gently.
"A boating accident in Venice. I still have trouble conducting tours there, but I'm coping."
Chirrup chirrup. Chirrup chirrup. Chirrup chirrup.
Duncan pointed to my shoulder bag. "That's yours. I decided to go incommunicado for once."
"Hello?" I said into my phone.
I heard a spate of soft, sensuous Italian being spoken into my ear. I felt an awkward smile play across my lips. "Etienne? Where are you?"
I listened intently, trying to hear him over the melodic voices that had joined forces with the violins. "Right. I thought that's what probably happened. A tunnel." I listened some more. "Unh-huh. This...this is a good time." I flashed Duncan an uneasy smile. My heart thumped. My stomach churned. My blood pounded in my ears. This was it. This was really it!
I listened to the words pouring from Etienne's mouth in his beautiful French/German/Italian accent. Apologies. Sweet nothings. That's it. So far, so good. Keep going. A little more buildup and finally the question I'd been waiting to hear for so long.
I bit my tongue until he was finished. I inhaled a deep breath. I forced a half smile at Duncan, then responded to Etienne's question in a slightly different way than I'd imagined.
"YOU WANT ME TO WHAT?"
eBook Info
Title:Pasta Imperfect
Creator:Maddy Hunter
Date:2004
Type:novel
Format:text/html
Identifier:ISBN 1-4165-0517-2
Source:PDF
Language:en
Relation:None
Coverage:None
Rights:Copyright (c) 2004 by Mary Mayer Holmes