G'Day to Die: A Passport to Peril Mystery - By Maddy Hunter Page 0,15
“So which one of you handsome mates wants to buy me a real drink?”
Pandemonium erupted. Henry punched a number on his cell. Guy Madelyn corralled Lola and rushed her to a neutral corner. Duncan and Etienne scrambled through the shattered glass to lift the heavy frame off Jake. Several guests attacked the buffet while the waiting line was down. “I’m CPR certified,” yelled Conrad as he raced toward Jake’s inert body.
Nana hovered close beside me, watching with rapt attention. “You think he’s dead?”
“Oh, Lord, he can’t be.” Two deaths in one day would be pretty extreme even for one of my tours.
“That’s a crime.” Helen Teig waved her punch glass toward Jake. “Reframing that print is going to cost someone a bundle.”
“Shhhhhh!” Bernice hissed. “Listen.” She glided her hand like a conductor’s baton through the air. “‘Que Sera, Sera.’ I haven’t heard this in years. No one sings it like Peggy Lee.”
“It’s not Peggy Lee,” Margi piped up. “It’s Doris Day.”
“Is not,” said Bernice.
“Is so,” said Margi.
“Are you sure it’s not Gisele MacKenzie?” asked Alice.
“Show of hands!” Osmond shouted.
While Osmond tallied the votes, I angled a look at the Polaroid Nana still clutched, my pulse suddenly quickening as I was struck by an improbable thought. Oh, my God. Could that be why Claire had left the visitor center?
I fired a glance at Conrad; I fired a look back at the photo. Uff da. If my hunch was right, I’d just solved the riddle.
“Sippelspermum australianse,” announced Tilly an hour later. We were in my room on the twenty-first floor, decompressing. “Or would you prefer, Marionspermum australianse?”
“I’d rather have my name on a candy bar,” Nana said as she unlaced her sneakers. “They done that for Babe Ruth. I want mine with caramel and chocolate but no nuts. Old folks can’t chew nuts real good, especially if they don’t got teeth.” She leaned back in her chair, her feet dangling high above the floor. “Awful shame about the ‘Meet and Greet’ comin’ to such a quick end.”
I kicked off my shoes and fell back on the bed. “Yeah, policemen and paramedics can have that effect on a friendly gathering.”
A team of strapping paramedics had carted Jake off to the hospital, while a couple of seriously buff police officers had dealt with Lola. Made me wonder where Melbourne’s emergency services recruiting offices were located. Male strip clubs?
“It was extremely kind of your two young men to ride along with Jake to the hospital,” Tilly commented. “Henry assigned the task to the right people. They’re quite responsible, aren’t they?”
“Responsible. Dependable.” I made a sweeping gesture around the room. “Conspicuously absent.”
To be fair, Henry would have volunteered for ambulance duty himself if Lola hadn’t wrapped herself around his legs, begging him not to abandon her when she was in such desperate need of moral support. So he’d agreed to babysit Lola at the police station and had asked Etienne and Duncan to accompany Jake.
“You s’pose Lola’s gonna have to spend the night in the pokey?” Nana asked.
I gave her a palms’ up. “That’ll probably depend on how kindly Jake is feeling toward her and whether he decides to press charges. Do you think he’ll even be able to give the police a statement?”
“His cuts looked relatively superficial,” Tilly said. “I doubt they’ll keep him overnight. But I’m concerned that Lola may prove to be a disruptive force throughout the whole tour. She’s loud; she’s obnoxious; and did you notice how she hogged Guy’s entire photo session this evening?”
“The only reason he was takin’ her picture so much was on account a she was wearin’ one a them atomic outfits,” said Nana. She lifted her eyebrows and smiled impishly. “He was waitin’ for the fallout. Did you see the size a them puppies? When she’s my age, she can use ’em for a scarf.”
“Well, I think Guy is very generous to take professional pictures of everyone. He probably makes a habit of doing nice things for people”—I stared pointedly at Nana—“like offering them jobs that pay six figures.”
“Forgot all about that.” Sighing, she pulled some loose photos out of her pocketbook and studied them critically. “I don’t know, dear. It’s real flatterin’ to catch the eye of an expert, but every one a these pictures looks pretty ordinary to me.”
“Do you have your angiosperm photo handy?”
She sailed it across the room to me; I scrutinized it under the light. “I have a theory about your photo, Nana, but I need you to double-check something on your