G'Day to Die (21 page)

He handed me a photo of a young woman with bobbed hair who was cuddling two toddlers in frilled pinafores and pipe curls. “This is Nora’s picture. What are you doing with it?”

“It was in the same box as my adoption papers. When my mother delivered us to the orphanage, she apparently left a photo with each of us, only mine didn’t include any names. I didn’t know who the three people were until Nora showed me her photo, then it became fairly obvious. The three of us had been a family at one time. It was a photo of my biological family.”

“So from that first day at Port Campbell, you knew Nora was a relative?”

“I knew she was a relative.
You
made the nightmare complete by telling me she was my twin. What a great way to ruin a gold mine tour.”

“You knew, and you didn’t say anything?”

He reacted as if he’d been slapped. “What? Give up the celebrity of being a Madelyn to admit I was brother to a pathetic old crone whose biggest thrill in life had been to visit a Big Banana and a Big Oyster?”

“Yeah, but she was your sister! Did it really matter what her taste was in tourist attractions?”

“She was an embarrassment! Can you imagine the looks on my kids’ faces if I introduced them to the aunt they never knew? You think they’d want to introduce her to their friends? Maybe she could have entertained them by killing insects with her bare hands! How do you think that would have gone over?”

“She wasn’t a freak,” I said quietly.

“The only reason you can say that is because she wasn’t related to you! In the neighborhood where I live, with the high-class people I run with, she’d be a freak.”

I inhaled a calming breath, but it didn’t do much good. “I’m not sure why I ever thought you were such a nice man. You’re nothing but a…a world-class snob! And for your information? Nora had more class than you could ever
think
of having. Here’s your picture back.”

He seized my wrist. “Like I said, Emily, I liked you, so I’m sorry it’s come to this.”

“What—!” I wrenched back on my arm. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting rid of leaks. Sorry, baby doll, you know too much.”

“About your family history? Who cares about your stupid charade?” Which is when I realized that Guy Madelyn cared. He cared very much. “Oh, my God.
You
killed her. You killed Nora!”

“You saw the shape she was in. She was way overdue. I just gave nature a little nudge before her fool son could track me down on any of the new internet adoption sites. You told me yourself he was getting close. So it was either take care of the problem now or risk having her show up on my front doorstoop. And that last part wasn’t an option.”

“You bastard! You drugged her wine at the vineyard.” Which must have required some fancy sleight of hand considering he hadn’t been anywhere near her at the wine tasting.

“You know about the overdose?” He clucked his disgust. “Autopsies are a real pain in the ass. However, in a tour group this size, I can’t be the only person taking insulin tablets. And since I have no connection to Nora, what possible motive could I have had to kill her?”

“You spiked her wine with insulin? You killed your only sister by sending her into insulin shock?”

“You’re not hearing me. I didn’t
want
her as a sister. And I didn’t touch her wine. I dropped the crushed tablets into her cucumber raita at the Indian restaurant the other night. It mixed up incredibly well in that thick yogurt base. I doubt she ever tasted it.”

“But she didn’t take ill until the next day! Do you know how many hours you made that poor woman suffer?”

“She didn’t look as if she was suffering too badly.”

“Not suffering badly? She died!” I yelled, driving my foot into his kneecap.

“OW! You—!” He yanked me against his chest and grabbed my hair, jarring every bone in my body and all thirty-two teeth. My bag fell off my shoulder. The photo blew away.

“Is that how you killed Claire?” I yelled into his face. “Did you send her into insulin shock, too?”

“Claire Bellows? Why would I kill her? I didn’t even know her.”

“You didn’t know Nora, either!”

“And thankfully, it’s going to remain that way. Look, Emily, I’m sorry to have to do this, but one of us needs to make an exit, and it’s not going to be me.”

He tramped into the surf, pulling me by the hair behind him. My mind raced. Adrenaline shot through me. Oh, my God. He was going to drown me in the kiddie pool!

“HELLLLLLLLLLP!” I shrieked. Hey, it always worked for Bernice. “HELP ME! SOMEBODY HELLLLLLLP!”

“Jeesuz Mighty.” He clamped his hand over my mouth and jerked me off my feet, crushing me against him.

“
MMMMMMMMHHHHHHPPPPPP!”
I pounded his forearms and flailed at his legs, my limbs whipping around like eggbeaters.

He waded deeper into the surf, dragging me with him.
Oh, God!

I bared my teeth and bit down hard on his finger.

“Aaarhh!”

“I’m glad Nora never found out you were her brother!” I screamed, when his hand flew off my mouth. “She didn’t have to live with the disappointment!”

He plunged my head under the water.

Foam. Bubbles. Muffled quiet.
Nooo!

I pulled my legs up beneath me and kicked out like a mule, jackknifing my feet into his groin.

His grip faltered. I rocketed out of the water and gasped for air. “HELLLL—”

WHOOSH
.

He plunged my head deeper, holding me down with two hands. I batted the water. Struggled to hold my breath. Kicked helplessly while seawater stung my eyes. I screamed in my throat, but I knew it was a sound no one would ever hear. Panic overwhelmed me. Pain seared my chest. Images flashed through my mind. Beloved faces. Welcoming arms. And the one face I loved more than all the rest, but would never see again. We’d wasted so much time! If only I could do it over again. If only we’d—

My lungs burst like a popped balloon, causing my breath to escape in a riot of bubbles. I clawed at the seabed as water poured into every orifice, scalding my throat, filling my nos—

Fresh air hit me in the face as I was hauled to the surface amid fevered shouts and cries. Chaos surrounded me. Splashing. Thrashing. Kicking. Punching.

“You’ve got it all wrong!” Guy bellowed at Etienne and Duncan. “I was trying to save her!”

Etienne drove his fist into Guy’s face with a crunch of bone and cartilage. Duncan followed up with a blow to the midsection that sent him backflopping like a beached flounder. Etienne seized his shirt-front, spat something in Italian, and tossed him back at Duncan. “You got him?”

“I got him.”

I paddled and splashed my way into Etienne’s arms.

“Are you all right,
bella
?”

I burrowed against him, wheezing and gasping, my legs wobbly beneath me. “I thought I’d never see you again,” I sobbed.

He kissed the top of my head, calming me with his quiet touch. “Emily, Emily. Heath called with the results of Nora’s autopsy. She died from an insulin overdose, and according to Henry’s medical forms, only one person on the tour is taking insulin.”

“Guy Madelyn.” I watched Duncan strong-arming him toward shore.

“But he was nowhere in sight. Henry suggested he might have hiked over to this beach, which is where you were heading, so that’s when all hell broke loose. I’m probably only a half-step ahead of your grandmother and her crew.” He hugged me tighter. “Let’s get you to shore. You’re shivering.”

As we splashed through the surf toward dry land, I noticed that the deserted beach was deserted no longer. People were popping out of the tunnel with their cameras already clicking. Nana, Tilly, Alice, Osmond, and Margi rushed forward, hovering over me as I sank onto the hot sand.

“We was so worried about you,” Nana fretted.

“Everyone dropped their crayfish to come rescue you,” said Tilly.

Margi nodded breathlessly. “We would have got here sooner, but it’s pretty slow-going through the tunnel, especially with certain people hogging the passing lane.”

“Someone needs to go back to tell Henry to call the local police,” I rasped, my throat still stinging and my nose burning all the way to my brain.

“We’re on it,” said Nana, grabbing Tilly and taking off like a shot.

“You fellas really knocked the stuffing out of old Guy,” said Osmond, looking farther down the beach. “Would you look at the size of his bottom lip? Woohee.” His camcorder chimed as he powered it up. “This is going to be so good. Real blood!”

“Does he need a nurse?” asked Margi, chasing down the beach after him.

“Maybe I can get a group shot,” said Alice. “Any chance we can locate a shark for local color?”

Etienne went down on one knee, cupping my face in his hands and smiling gently. “Are all you Americans this resilient?”

“Not all.” My eyes filled with tears as I smiled back. “It helps to be from Iowa.”

“It’s gonna be a while before we can get to Henry!” Nana yelled from the direction of the tunnel. “It’s on account a the Dicks. They’re stuck!”

A
fter breakfast the next morning we were scheduled to drive southeast for a morning of shopping in the German settlement of Hahndorf, but in light of the harrowing day we’d spent on Kangaroo Island, Henry canceled the tour and gave us a free day in Adelaide to get our feet under us again. He suggested the real diehards in the group could entertain themselves by hopping the Glenelg tram to the seashore or visiting the East End Market, but if we wanted something more relaxing, he recommended the rooftop pool and a pitcher of maragaritas. Nana was so relieved I hadn’t drowned, she announced an open house and prepool appetizers in our suite, so by ten o’clock, our living room was crawling with people eating smoked salmon on mini bagels and knocking back fresh-squeezed orange juice.

“This fresh-squeezed is a pain,” griped Bernice. “I’ll be spittin’ out pulp all day. Who’s got floss?”

We’d moved Nana’s laptop to make room for the food, and I was happy not to have to look at it anymore. The Google Earth download had been useless. The program finally transferred, but when we typed in Roger’s coordinates, the image it relayed showed Port Campbell National Park as it had appeared three months ago! Remote areas of distant continents apparently got
no
respect when it came to live satellite feeds.

“I’m offering a toast,” Henry said, raising his juice glass. “May the nixt lig of our tour be nothing like the first lig.”

A resounding, “Hear, hear!” echoed through the room.

Conrad gave Nana a sheepish look as he clinked glasses with her. “I’ve received terrible news this morning, Marion. The disappointment might be too much for you, so you might want to sit down.”

She glanced around the room. “No place
to
sit. How ’bout I just lean.” She braced her hip against the desk. “Okay, shoot.”

“I talked to the zoological team looking for the desert rat kangaroo a short time ago, and they affirmed my worst fear. They can find neither the creature nor any evidence of its habitat at Sovereign Hill. Wherever he was when you photographed him, he’s not there any longer.”

“So I’m not gonna be famous?”

“I’m sorry, Marion. I’m afraid not.”

“Good thing I didn’t waste no money on a cut and blow-dry, then.”

“Tell her the rest of the story,” Ellie insisted. “Tell her what you’re going to do about it.”

Conrad’s mustache wiggled at the edges. “It’s because of you that I’m staying in Australia, Marion, if I can iron out the paperwork. I’ve been offered a position by Melbourne’s Museum of Victoria to help classify the backlog of unnamed plant specimens they’ve collected through the years. They can use someone with my professional stature and knowledge on staff, and with luck, perhaps I’ll find another sample of the angiosperm we lost at Port Campbell. I still believe your plant is out there, Marion. I’ll never give up.”

“Don’t lose no sleep over it.”

Ellie cuddled up to her husband, their differences apparently forgotten. “And the best part is, free housing and a nice income. And from now on,
I’m
handling the finances.”

Nana slipped her a business card.

“What’s this?”

“My email address. Drop me a line if you need investment advice. I got the inside scoop on what’s hot.”

“Have you learned any more information about Diana Squires?” Duncan called out to Henry.

“Ah! That’s right. I haven’t gotten you up to speed. Some of you may have noticed that Ms. Squires was taken away by the authorities yisterday. I talked to the main office this morning and from what they’ve learned, she’s been arristed for stealing everything that wasn’t nailed down from her hotel room in Milbourne. Towels. Sheets. Ashtrays. Blankets. Even the phone.”

“What’s so bad about that?” asked Bernice. “Everyone steals things from hotel rooms. It’s expected.”

“Not anymore,” argued Henry. “At least, not in Milbourne. The hotels have agreed to priss charges aginst violators to stop the financial bleeding. The loss of property is tremendous, so they’ve declared war.”

“How’d she fit all those extras in her luggage?” Dick Teig threw out.

“She didn’t pack thim,” Henry said, laughing. “She mailed thim! All the way to America. It cost her more to mail the box than the merchandise was worth.”

I glanced at Duncan, whose crimson neck probably indicated how he felt about his unintended part in helping her mail the contraband.

“But that wasn’t the worst of it,” Henry continued. “David Jones Department Store wants her for shop-lifting, as does the gift shop at the wildlife park in Ballarat. They have surveillance video of her in the act, but they couldn’t idintify her because her face was blurred in every frame. The authorities are theorizing that her makeup contains a compound that blocks a camera’s ability to capture clear visual images. Kind of like lid with an X-ray. Quite the ruse. I bit you can’t buy that at the Estee Lauder counter. I thought she was trying to cover up acne scars with the heavy makeup, but what she was really trying to cover up was a life of crime.”

The backpack made sense now. No wonder she’d bought the expandable model. Over a two-week period, she was expecting to fit a lot in there besides lipstick and blush.

“What about Guy?” asked Tilly. “What’s happened to him?”

“He spint the night on Kangaroo Island, but he’ll be brought back to Adelaide today for procissing. His arrist is going to make quite the splash here in South Australia.”

Guy said he liked splash, but I imagined this wasn’t the kind he had in mind.

“These are yours.” Bernice shoved a couple of photos at Nana.

“My Polaroids! I thought they was gone forever. Well, I’ll be. I knew if I kept prayin’ to St. Anthony, they’d show up. Where’d you find ’em?”

“I didn’t find them exactly; I borrowed them.”

“See, dear?” Nana held them up to me. “This one’s a little anthill that was right off the parking lot, and this here’s one a the ants. Never seen an ant what looked like that before. See how the body’s almost transparent?” She snapped her gaze back to Bernice. “What do you mean, ‘borrowed?’”

“That photographer was making such a fuss over your pictures, I thought I’d borrow a couple. I figured I’d study what you did right so I could get the same effect in my pictures and maybe land me a job like you were being offered. I knew you wouldn’t mind. In fact, I thought you’d be flattered.”

“You
stole
Nana’s photos?” I accused.

Bernice rolled her eyes. “You are
such
an alarmist. I told you. I borrowed them, and now I’m giving them back. Damned if I could figure out what was so special about them. Dirt. Rocks. Ants. You know what I think? I think your fancy-schmancy photographer was full of crap.”

I looked from Bernice to Nana, suddenly enlightened. “So if Bernice took two of your pictures—”

“—Claire probably took the other one,” said Nana.

“And if she was the only person to recognize the angiosperms when the photos were being passed around—” said Tilly.

“Then no one would have any reason for wanting to kill her!” I exclaimed.

Bernice squinted at the three of us. “You people are Looney Tunes.”

When the desk phone rang, I scooted down the hall and picked up in the bedroom.

“Imily? This is Peter Blunt in Warrnambool. I apologize for taking so long to answer your call, but we’ve been swamped. If you were calling about Ms. Bellows’s autopsy, I have the results.”

“Let me guess. It wasn’t foul play, right? We just figured it out, and I have to tell you, I’m
so
relieved. You wouldn’t believe what we’ve been through, trying to piece together why anyone would want to kill her.”

A pause. “Didn’t I mintion there was no evidence of foul play at the scene?”

“You mentioned it, but were you a hundred percent sure? You seemed a little iffy to me.”

“I wasn’t being iffy. I was flirting with you.”

“Oh.”

“Claire Bellows died as a result of deep vein thrombosis. Have you heard of it?”

“I’ve heard the term, but I’m not sure I know what it is.”

“It’s a blood clot in a deep vein in the leg. In Claire’s case it formed above the knee, then broke off and traveled to her lungs. It can happen to folks during long-distance travel, especially if they don’t exercise their legs or stay hydrated. We’re will aware of the problem here since there
are
no short flights from Australia to anywhere ilse in the world, so we’re always preaching comprission stockings.”

“Excuse me?”

“Graduated comprission socks. They’re tighter at the foot than the calf, which hilps with circulation. Just about every store sills them. They’re a bit pricey, but we ricommind them to anyone who boards a plane, especially people over forty who are carrying a bit of weight.”

“But Claire wasn’t over forty!”

“Goes to show you. You just never know.”

I hung up the phone, overwhelmed by a sense of dread.

“Problems?” asked Duncan, stepping into the bedroom and closing the door behind him.

“You bet.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“Can you persuade eleven money-conscious Iowans to spring for compression stockings?”

He grinned. “You’re on your own with that one. I couldn’t convince your two Dicks to fork out five cents for toothpicks at the café yesterday.” He kissed my hand and sat me on the bed. “You have a good group, Em. I’m going to miss them.”

“I’m sorry?”

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I told you in Italy that Lazarus men have a reputation to uphold. We pursue relentlessly until we get the girl. Remember? But we’re not entirely stupid. Some of us can actually tell when it’s time to throw in the towel.”

I felt a little hitch in my throat. “You’re giving up?”

“Not because I don’t love you, Em, because I still do. There’s a part of me that’ll always love you. But I know the way you look at Miceli, and I know the way you look at me, and it’s not the same. Something gets lost in translation when you look at me.”

“Oh, Duncan, that’s not tru—”

“Yeah, it is true. But that’s okay. It was a fair fight, and the best man won—but you tell Miceli that if he’s not good to you, he’ll answer to me.” He kissed my forehead, and whispered, “Be happy, pretty,” before taking my hand and escorting me out of the room.

“You know the one thing I’m
not
going to miss about your tours?” he asked when we reached the suite’s main door.

I forced a smile. “The body count?”

“Always being last in line. No one ever gets ahead of your group. What’s up with that anyway? Let me know when the engagement becomes official. The first magnum of champagne is on me.”

“Who was on the phone, dear?” Nana asked when I rejoined the group in the living room.

“Peter Blunt,” I said, suppressing a pang of wistfulness. “He had the results of Claire Bellows’s autopsy.”

Silence descended. All eyes turned to me.

“I still bet she died of thirst,” said Lucille.

“She died from deep vein thrombosis. That’s what can happen when you sit in a cramped airplane seat for fifteen hours and don’t exercise your legs. A blood clot can form and travel to your lungs. And it often happens to people who are over forty and have lost their youthful figures.”

Awareness registered on everyone’s face. Eyes shifted nervously. Mouths twitched in alarm.

“I told you we should travel first-class,” Helen Teig said as she thwacked Dick. “There’s more legroom there.”

“Do I look like I’m made of money, Helen?”

“A lot of good your bankroll will do if you’re dead!”

Lucille brightened. “Of course, if he did die, Helen and I could room together and I wouldn’t have to pay the extra charge for a single room anymore.”

“The Aussies apparently wear compression stockings when they travel,” I continued. “They promote circulation so clots won’t form. Peter said you can buy them anywhere.”

“Are they expensive?” asked Dick Stolee.

I went in for the kill. “They’re a lot cheaper than a first-class air ticket.”

Juice got chugged. Plates got dumped on every hard surface. A little pushing and shoving, a slight bottleneck at the door, and they were gone.

I checked the second hand of my watch. Twenty seconds. Not bad. I smiled at the people who remained in the room. “Gee, that went well.”

“Me and Tilly are going, too,” said Nana. “You want we should pick you up a pair?”

“Sure, if there are any left.”

Henry set down his plate and glass and peeked at the Polaroids Nana had dropped on the desk. “Did you shoot these, Marion?”

“Yup.”

He leaned over for a closer look. “Do you mind if I ask where?”

“At that Twelve Apostles place.”

He stared some more. “I’ll be damned. Do you know what you have here?”

“An anthill.”

“No, it’s much more than that. I know a thing or two about insicts, and what you’ve found here looks like a rare species of ant that hasn’t been seen since the eighteen-eighties!”