G'Day to Die: A Passport to Peril Mystery - By Maddy Hunter Page 0,53

living together a whole lot easier.”

Excuse me? Avoid talking about workaholism? Retirement plans? Whose family gets us for which holiday? Was she crazy? “Have you heard of Dr. Phil?”

“Oh, your generation thinks a successful marriage means hammering every issue to death. Hogwash. The couples who do the most hammering are usually the ones who end up in divorce court. Marriage is an institution, and no institution is perfect. You simply have to accept the limitations.”

I blinked surprise. “Really?”

“Take it from me, Emily, if you’re head over heels about someone, forget all the silly issues and marry him. Everything else will get resolved eventually; you just have to remember always to be respectful and kind to each other.”

“Really?”

She flipped me an “Aw, go on” gesture. “Young people. You always make things so difficult.”

I was so blown away by her advice that I almost forgot the critical issue I’d wanted to talk to her about. “Not to change the subject, Ellie, but could I pick your brain for a minute? Do you remember when we were in the Port Campbell visitor center the other day, and Henry announced that the bus had broken down?”

“Of course I remember. Connie went back outside to explore and left me with a roomful of strangers. I always play second fiddle to his explorations. But that’s Connie. He can never sit still. He always has to be exploring or fidgeting with something he’s not supposed to. He’d much rather be off on his own than socializing. But he’s taken a liking to you, Emily. If you get him alone, maybe he’ll open up to you about the airline ticket business.”

And if the police had any say in the matter, maybe he wouldn’t be with us long enough to open up to anyone.

As the group headed back toward the main salesroom, we fell in at the rear behind Diana and Roger, who were going at each other like spin doctors after a political debate.

“She doesn’t want to drink your crummy shakes because they taste like the stuff people take for diarrhea,” Diana sniped.

“Have you ever tried our shakes?” Roger fired back. “I should mail you a carton. They might change your appearance so much, you might even be able to lose the clown makeup. Why do you wear all that garbage anyway? Are you trying to hide something that you don’t want potential customers to see? Did the animal rights activists scare Infinity into testing their products on their own scientists instead of laboratory mice? Did the industry’s most perfect product turn you into Frankenstein’s monster?”

Oh, my God. It wasn’t just me. Other people were thinking the same thing.

“Who do you think has more credibility here?” Diana asked in an even tone. “A woman who wears foundation with an SPF of forty-five to protect her skin from sun damage, or a man with four former wives who all died under suspicious circumstances? What do they call you at GenerX? Dr. Bluebeard?”

Roger grabbed her arm. “That’s not funny.”

“It wasn’t meant to be. Now let go my arm before I drive your privates up through your nose. Would you like a demonstration? We even have an audience.” She nodded toward Ellie and me.

Roger released her arm and looked at me apologetically. “It’s not like she makes it out to be. I loved all my wives; I’ve just had trouble keeping them alive.”

I wondered if having a little food in the house might have helped.

“Freak accidents,” he explained as he removed his GPS from its holster. He punched a button a few times and flashed us the numbers on the screen. “These are the coordinates for Venice, Italy. My first wife drowned when she fell out of our water taxi into the Grand Canal.” He hit the button again. “This is St. Michael’s Mount. My second wife drowned when the incoming tide swept her off the causeway when we were walking back to the mainland.” He flashed new coordinates at us. “This is Alcatraz. Our boat was driven onto the rocks while we were sailing and my third wife fell overboard and drowned.” He punched the button a final time. “This is the hot tub on my back deck.”

“I hope your fourth wife was bright enough to grab a life jacket,” said Ellie.

“She didn’t need one. She was an Olympic caliber swimmer. She died when she fell through the hole I cut in the deck for the hot tub.”

“Allegedly fell,” said Diana. “Her family claimed you pushed her. Who knows where