G'Day to Die: A Passport to Peril Mystery - By Maddy Hunter Page 0,42
back out through my nose.”
“I’ll try it,” Nana volunteered. With Duncan’s blessing, she knocked it back in one swallow.
“Well?” I asked.
She broke out in a giddy smile. “Not bad. It’s got a better kick than Kaopectate.”
“Try this, bella.” Etienne placed a champagne flute before me. “It’s much more your style. Meant to be sipped rather than chugalugged.” He exchanged a defiant look with Duncan before circling the table to an empty chair.
I held the glass up to the light. Bubbles effervesced to the surface like a galaxy of shooting stars. “Champagne. Yum. What else is in it?”
“Peach brandy and orange juice.”
“It’s an AARP cocktail,” Duncan teased. “Did Miceli tell you he’s on their mailing list now that he’s turned in his badge?”
“Buttati in un mare pieno di merda come te,” Etienne said with quiet restraint.
“Vaffanculo,” Duncan returned calmly.
I looked from one to the other. “I hate it when you guys do that! Come on, what did you just say?”
“Drink up what’s in front of you, darling. There’s more coming.”
“I propose a toast,” said Duncan, lifting his Guinness. “A little Irish blessing: ‘There are good ships, and there are wood ships, the ships that sail the sea, but the best ships are friendships, and may they always be.’”
Aw, that was so sweet. We clinked glasses all around, and I took a sip of my champagne. I licked my lips, savoring the taste. “Wow, this is the best stuff I’ve ever drunk out of a champagne flute. The peach and orange really pop.” I took another sip. “What’s it called?”
Etienne’s lips slid into a slow, sensuous smile. “Sweet Surrender.”
Duncan rolled his eyes. Mumbling something under his breath, he took a swig of his stout.
I toasted Etienne. “An exquisite choice.”
“Exquisite choices are my specialty,” he said, drilling me with a look that made my tummy tingle.
Duncan drained his mug and thumped it onto the table. “I’m ready for another round. Anyone care to join me?”
Etienne motioned toward the bar. “It’s on its way.”
“By the by,” I said with a dramatic flourish, “you’ll be happy to know that I talked to Guy today and convinced him to stop monopolizing the two of you, so you’re officially off the hook and free to spend your time as you please.” I smiled impishly. “Thank you very much; it was nothing.”
Both men whipped Palm Pilots out of their jacket pockets. “I have dibs sitting beside her on the plane tomorrow,” Duncan said, moving his stylus over the display screen.
“No can do.” Etienne consulted his own screen. “I have that marked in stone. See?” He flashed it at Duncan. “You can sit beside her on the bus ride from the airport to Adelaide.”
“A ten-minute ride? I don’t think so. I want her for the plane ride and miscellaneous free time tomorrow afternoon. You can borrow her for dinner, then the three of us can do something afterward.”
“I have plans for her tomorrow evening after dinner, and no offense, old bean, but they don’t include you.”
Duncan smiled stiffly. “If you get her for after-dinner activities tomorrow, I get her for the entire day in the Barossa Valley, plus dinner alone with her and any postdinner intrigue we care to engage in.”
“Interesting take on equal time,” Etienne said in amusement.
“Works for me, old bean.”
“Do I look entirely obtuse to you?”
“How honest do you want me to be?”
“Bischero,” rasped Etienne.
“Farabutto,” Duncan snapped back.
Oh, yeah. Guy’s not monopolizing them anymore was working out really well. I glanced around the bar. Where was he? Maybe I could convince him I’d only been kidding.
“Evenin’.” A barmaid carrying a tray of colorful mixed drinks arrived at our table. “Who gets the Shirley Temple with extra cherries?”
Nana raised her hand.
“The Professor and Mary Ann?”
“I’ll take it,” said Tilly.”
“Dry martini with a twist?”
“That would be me,” said Etienne.
She held up a highball glass whose contents resembled a Pepto-Bismol shake. “Strawberry Kiss?”
Etienne nodded toward me. “The young lady.”
She plucked the final glass off the tray. “Old Bastard?”
“Here,” said Etienne, slapping the table in front of Duncan.
Duncan’s mouth inched into a crooked grin. “Maleducato,” he said, bowing his head politely.
“Zoccolo.” Etienne nodded back.
“Anything else I can bring you right away?” the barmaid asked.
“I wouldn’t mind havin’ a refill on my Kaopectate shooter.” Nana waved her empty shot glass at Duncan. “What’d you say it’s called?”
“A Screaming Orgasm.”
I hung my head. Oh, God.
Nana handed the shot glass to the barmaid. “Could you make it a double?”
“I need to call it a night, guys. My head is fuzzy.”