G'Day to Die: A Passport to Peril Mystery - By Maddy Hunter Page 0,34

it sounded like something you’d take for insomnia or erectile dysfunction. “Meridia!”

The clerk clutched her throat and gasped, her eyes bulging with horror. I couldn’t tell if she was choking on a Tic Tac or being suffocated by her corset.

“How is it possible you were aboard the Meridia? You claim to be recently arrived on our soil, yet the Meridia wrecked over forty years ago.”

I was relieved she wasn’t choking. I wouldn’t be able to use the Heimlich maneuver for another hundred years. “Umm, it must have been the Meridia II. The Roman numeral probably washed off in high seas when we were rounding the horn, or the Cape, or something. I’m not exactly sure which route we took.” I touched the lacy scrolls and arabesques of the gold band. “Would it be all right if I tried this on?”

“Allow me.” She slid it onto my ring finger, cooing at the fit. “We wouldn’t have to make any adjustments. It’s as if it were made for you.”

It certainly was unusual, combining the serpentine grace of Florentine and Celtic designs. I loved all the twisty-turny spirals and loops.

“It washed up on the beach at Loch Ard Gorge, probably from one of the many wrecks. It looks to be the kind of bauble a gentleman might present to a lady when he proposes marriage, doesn’t it? One only hopes the gentleman lived long enough to take a bride. Shall I wrap it up for you?”

I checked the price on the attached tag. Eh! Even with the favorable exchange rate, in order to pay for it, I’d have to omit either food or rent from my budget. I rechecked the tag and winced. Maybe both. “It’s a teensy expensive,” I said as I slid it reluctantly off my finger.

“You’re paying for the fine craftsmanship.”

I stared at it forlornly. It was speaking to me. Nuts. I wondered if the clerk would think me too weird if I clapped my hands over my ears.

“By any chance, would your last name be Madelyn?” the clerk asked in a curious tone. “There were several members of the Madelyn clan who survived the wreck of the first Meridia. Might you be a relative?”

“You know about the Madelyns?”

She smiled indulgently. “Everyone in this part of Victoria knows about the Madelyns. They were heroes, risking life and limb to save drowning passengers. Carrying them to safety up those treacherous cliff paths. They became such a vital force in the communities they married into that we often refer to them as Victoria’s First Family. Next to the Queen, they’re our closest link to royalty.”

“I know one of the Madelyns!” I enthused. “You should talk to him. He’d be so excited to hear what you—”

“Forgive me for stealing your customer,” Etienne apologized to the clerk as he circled his arm around my waist and herded me out the door, “but this can’t wait.” He hurried me across the street toward the New York Bakery, sent surreptitious glances north and south, then feinted left, ducking onto the street that ran behind the eatery. In the absence of foot traffic, he pinned me to the restaurant’s rear wall and kissed me with the urgency of a man whose Viagra fix was about to expire. His breathing was rapid; his mouth was hot. This was the perfect moment.

“Back to the retirement thing,” I mumbled against his lips.

“Shhh. I’m trying to make love to you.”

“In an alleyway?”

“I’m desperate. Kiss me, Emily.”

“There you are, Miceli,” Duncan called from a distance.

Etienne stiffened like a sprung trap. “Merda.”

Uh-oh. I knew what that meant, and it wasn’t good.

“I turned around and you were gone.” Duncan entered the alleyway at a quick clip, sounding a little breathless. “I thought you’d had a Madelyn sighting and were taking evasive action, but I obviously drew the wrong conclusion. You were hungry for sweets.” He gave me a sizzling once-over and smiled.

“What is it with you two and Guy?” I looked from one to the other. “He’s a very nice man, but don’t you think the photography thing is turning into a bit of an obsession?”

Duncan raised an eyebrow at Etienne. “You haven’t told her yet?”

“Told me what?”

Etienne’s face flooded with color. “Madelyn wants to branch out into fashion photography, so he’s putting a portfolio together. His photos of Lazarus and me have apparently turned out so well that he’s planning to submit them to several high-fashion magazines.”

“No kidding?” Where was the justice? Guy’s photos of me end up in cyber trash; his photos