A Tourist's Guide to Murder

by V. M. Burns

  Before the waitress could finish pouring Nana Jo’s second cup of tea, we were overrun, as Irma, Ruby Mae, and Dorothy descended with enough bags to clothe a small third world nation. There were so many packages that they formed a border around our table. Eventually, the hostess wandered over and offered to take our bags and leave them in the luggage pickup area, where they wouldn’t block the floor. We accepted the offer, although I doubt that we had much choice in the matter. After a few moments, she returned with claim checks and instructions on where to go to retrieve our bags.

  Tea at Harrods was a wonderful experience with sandwiches, scones with clotted cream, pastries, and tarts. There was enough to fill all of us, and by the end of the meal, we were all feeling re-energized.

  We left our bags and took another trip on the hop-on, hop-off bus. This time, we actually got on and off at several of the tourist attractions and took pictures with our cell phones. When we were worn out, we hopped on the bus and took it back to Harrods to retrieve our bags. One glance at our mound of bags, and we bypassed the bus and tube and called a taxi.

  It took a few minutes and a bit of swearing, but the cabbie managed to cram most of the bags into the trunk. The others we put on our laps, as we squeezed into the cab. After a brief dash through the London traffic, we made it back to our hotel, and this time we were able to utilize the bellboys to get everything up to our rooms. After a few bag swaps, we got everything sorted out and were able to shower and dress in clean clothes.

  Nana Jo was feeling generous and allowed me first dibs on the hot water. I overcame the desire to curl up in a ball in the bottom of the shower and just lay there while the hot water pelted my skin, and I quickly cleaned up and got dressed.

  Nana Jo’s shower was a bit longer than mine. When she came out, she declared, “I’ll never underestimate the power of a hot shower again.” She toweled off and quickly dressed.

  With moments to spare, we hurried downstairs to the ballroom. As the elevator doors opened, Nana Jo looked around. “Right or left?”

  I shrugged. “Let’s try right.”

  We wandered down a hall to the right and stopped when we heard raised voices.

  “You can’t do this! You can’t just sell the business. I’m your partner, Horace. Or, have you forgotten that?”

  “I jolly well can sell the business, and I have done just that. We never had anything in writing, and you’ve been paid well for your time over the years.”

  We exchanged glances and then peeked around the corner. A tall, thin man with a large beaked nose was glaring down on a short, fat bald man with a small mustache who was backed up against the wall.

  “Nothing in writing? I’ve devoted the last twenty years of my life to this business. I’ve become a specialist on British Crimes and dedicated myself to making this . . . enterprise successful. I’ve been the face and the voice of Peabody Mystery Lovers Tours.”

  The short man laughed. “That’s just it, isn’t it? It’s Peabody Mystery Lovers Tours, and I’m Peabody, so I can do whatever I bloody well please.”

  “Why you . . .” Beak Nose grabbed the smaller man by the lapels and flung him into the wall, knocking over a tray that was left in the hall. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to, Horace. Don’t forget that I know where all the skeletons are buried.”

  The tray crashed to the floor as the short man’s head hit the wall. Nana Jo and I hurried around the corner.

  “Hey, stop that!” Nana Jo yelled.

  Her intervention provided just enough of a distraction to allow the beak-nosed aggressor time to collect himself.

  Beak Nose released his hold on the smaller man. “Madam, everything is fine.” He took several deep breaths and ran a hand over his head.

  Rather than thanking us for saving his skin, Shorty took the opportunity to sneer at his attacker. “So common.” He straightened his suit and adjusted his tie. “This display has confirmed that I was right about you all along. All you are and all you ever will be is a common laborer. How you could ever have thought yourself my equal astounds me,” he snarled and strutted down the hallway, barely glancing at Nana Jo and me as he passed.

  After a brief pause, Beak Nose took several deep breaths, turned, and bowed to us. “Ladies, I am terribly sorry for my behavior. I was . . .” He chuckled. “I was going to say provoked, but that’s no excuse.” He shook his head. “I behaved abominably, please forgive me.” He bowed again.

  We nodded and stepped aside as he walked down the hall.

  “Interesting that the common laborer demonstrated better manners and more class than Mr. Hoity Toity.” Nana Jo adjusted her collar. “Come on, this mystery tour is about to get really interesting.”

  Chapter 7

  We retraced our steps back toward the elevator, and this time we turned left rather than right.

  When we walked into the ballroom, we were greeted by Beak Nose. He had a printout with a list of names, which I assumed were all the passengers on our tour. We signed next to our printed names, as the others had done, and tried to escape without taking one of the bright blue Hello, my name is stickers, but this wasn’t our guide’s first tour. He smiled brightly. “Greetings, ladies. I’m Clive Green . . . I’ll be your guide for the next seven days, as we explore the mysterious and murderous sites in and around the United Kingdom.” He handed us a Sharpie and a sticker. “If you’ll be so kind as to write your names on these, we’ll get started shortly.” A true veteran of the tour circuit, he waited until we obeyed orders before smiling and handing us a paper entitled, Get Acquainted Reception.

  The room was decorated with overstuffed Edwardian furniture, and Ruby Mae had made herself comfortable on a sofa placed in front of an ornately carved fireplace. In true Ruby Mae fashion, she had her knitting lying across her lap but was eating a plate piled high with chicken and other delicious-looking items while chatting with one of the maids, a young, dark-skinned woman with a small afro and a bright smile.

  Nana Jo shook her head. “I’ve got twenty bucks that’s a third cousin twice removed.”

  I shook my head. “Only a fool would take that bet.” I grinned. “Ruby Mae has the largest extended family on the planet.”

  Nana Jo pointed. “It looks like Dorothy and Irma have already acquainted themselves with Jim Beam and Johnnie Walker.”

  In a corner of the room was a bar. Irma had changed into a skintight leopard-print jumpsuit, which managed to be even more seductive than her typical bar attire of miniskirts and cleavage-boosting blouses. She had affixed herself to a white-haired gentleman with big teeth and a flushed face, who seemed quite content to be trapped.

  Dorothy was also attached to a man. Close inspection identified her companion as none other than our German businessman from the airport.

  I nudged Nana. “Isn’t that the guy Dorothy decked in the airport?”

  “Looks like the same guy.” She shrugged. “Given the smile on his face, I’d say a peace pact has been achieved. It’s either that or the two empty glasses and the bottle of Jim Beam have worked their magic. Either way, I think Dorothy will be happier.”

  “She has been pretty quiet since the airport incident. I just assumed she was tired.” I stared at the two. “Although, I can’t imagine how they’re communicating. He doesn’t speak English.”

  “Whiskey speaks everyone’s language.” Nana Jo wandered over to the bar and got a drink.

  I smiled and glanced at the amber-colored liquid in their refilled glasses. She might have a point. I glanced around the room and noted the small cliques that had already formed. There was a couple standing by the window that looked very American. Both were blond-haired, blue-eyed, thin, and well-tanned. There was something about the two that screamed Florida to me. Although there was something about the woman that reminded me of a frightened rat. Perhaps it was the way she kept glancing around the room.

  Our rude hallway brawler stood in a corner of the room. His nose was scrunched with a look like he’d just gotten a whiff of a foul
odor, while a large-breasted woman in a dress covered in neon flowers, with an unfortunate hair color that was somewhere between Ronald McDonald and Little Orphan Annie, and an overabundance of gaudy jewelry pressed herself closer and closer.

  Their animated conversation left me curious, so I sauntered nearby and eavesdropped on the conversation while gazing into a bowl of mixed nuts as though this was my first time seeing such things.

  “Horace, you must remember,” the woman said. “We were engaged . . . practically.”

  “I tell you, I have no memory of you, and I certainly have never had a relationship with you.” He glanced down his nose at the woman. “What did you say your name was?”

  A patch of red rose up her neck. “My name is Prudence Habersham.” She waited for recognition before quickly adding, “Although, Habersham is my married name. Back when we were dating, my name was Pickelsimer. Prudence Pickelsimer.”

  “I can assure you that I never knew anyone with that name.” He turned to walk away but Prudence would not be denied. She grabbed his arm. “You must remember me. It was a while ago, but I can’t have changed that much.” She gazed with desperation into the man’s eyes and then gave a short deprecating laugh. “I’ll admit I have put on a few pounds, but that was well over thirty years ago.” She chuckled. “Everyone changes after that much time. Why, even you—”

  “No one could have changed that much.” He scowled. “You really must have me confused with someone else.”

  The woman’s face grew redder and her chest heaved. “I don’t make a habit of confusing the men with whom I’ve been intimate.” She glared. “I’m not that type of woman.”

  The man smirked.

  “If you think you can ignore me, then you’ve got another think coming. Remember, I knew you long before you were Major Peabody,” Prudence sneered. “And, I’ll get even with you for this . . . humiliation if it’s the last thing I do.”

  Fear flashed across Major Peabody’s face.

  I glanced to the side and noticed an older gray-haired woman watching me as I watched the couple. Our eyes met. After an awkward moment, the woman shrugged and smiled.

  Our eavesdropping was placed on hold when a glamorous couple entered the room. The couple stood in the middle of the room and looked around for all to admire. They were definitely attractive in a showy, overdone manner that seemed to shout, We’re part of the beautiful people. They were both tall and thin. From afar, the woman looked stunningly gorgeous, but this ballroom was too small for that much ego. Up close, her makeup appeared to be applied with a paint roller. Her false eyelashes looked like spiders, and her perfume overpowered the room.

  “Ah-choo!”

  The kind gray-haired woman handed me a tissue.

  “Thank you.” I wiped my nose.

  “Chanel Number 5.” She smiled. “Normally, I like the scent, when it hasn’t been applied with such a . . . heavy hand.”

  I sneezed again. “It is a bit overpowering.”

  The glamourous woman had a fur stole wrapped around her neck, and she let the stole slip to her shoulders as she spied her quest. She extended her arms and walked over to Major Peabody. “Uncle Horace.” She would have run over Prudence Habersham had the woman not stepped aside just as the scent descended on the major.

  She engulfed the major in an embrace and then left two perfect copies of her lips on each cheek.

  The major pulled out a handkerchief and wiped off the lipstick. “What are you doing here, Debra?”

  The cool greeting didn’t deter Debra. She merely laughed. “Uncle Horace, you are such a card.” She chuckled. “You know I love your little games.” She raised a hand to signal to the Mediterranean god she’d left standing in the middle of the room for all of the women to admire.

  He caught the signal, flashed a smile like a toothpaste model, and strutted to her side.

  She staked her claim by linking one arm through the demi-god’s arm. “I couldn’t wait to tell you the good news. Sebastian and I are engaged.” She held up her left hand and wiggled her fingers. On her ring finger sat a rock slightly smaller than a tennis ball.

  I was so engrossed in the drama playing out in the room, I didn’t realize Nana Jo had moved beside me until she whispered, “It’s a wonder she can lift her hand with that bowling ball on her finger.”

  The gray-haired woman leaned close. “It’s a fake.”

  We turned and stared at the woman.

  “How can you tell?” I asked.

  She leaned close. “It’s the way the light hits it. My father was a jeweler, and I know diamonds.” She smiled and extended her hand. “Hannah Schneider.”

  Nana Jo shook. “Josephine Thomas.” Then she turned to me. “This is my granddaughter, Samantha Washington.”

  We shook hands, and I gave her a sincere smile. I liked Hannah Schneider, and I didn’t even know her. Perhaps it was the way her eyes crinkled at the sides when she smiled or the intelligence that looked back at me out of her dark, sad eyes. There was an instant connection between us.

  “Engaged?” Major Peabody shouted. “Engaged to do what? Live in squalor with some tanned gigolo?”

  Momentarily shocked, Debra recovered well and laughed. She looked around. “Uncle, you are so hilariously amusing,” she said with a slight edge to her voice. “Perhaps we can discuss this in private.”

  Major Peabody had had enough. “Private? What’s to discuss? If you want to make a fool of yourself, go right ahead. You’ve certainly had enough practice,” he sneered. “But, if you expect me to fund this unholy union, then you’d better think again, my dear.”

  “But, Uncle, really. I’m old enough to make my own decisions, and my mother—”

  “Your mother was a fool.” He shook his head. “She was just as headstrong and man crazed as you are. She married a no-good wastrel, and it looks like you’re determined to do the same thing, but you’re wrong if you think I’m going to sit back and allow this . . .” He looked the man up and down as though he were filth. “. . . this gigolo to have access to my money. You’re both wrong.”

  Debra glared but then directed her attention to her fingernails, as though the conversation bored her to tears. “Well, blood is thicker than water. Like it or not, I’m your niece and only heir. Just how do you intend to stop me?”

  Major Peabody’s face grew red, and like the lid of a pressure cooker, he seemed ready to explode. However, within a few seconds, he flipped a switch and turned off the boiler. “As it turns out, my dear, I have already taken steps to disinherit you.”

  This shocked her, and she seemed ready to scream but was halted when the major raised a hand. “I knew you would come up with some stupid idea like this, which is why I hired a private investigator to look into this . . . so-called model.” He scoffed. “Sebastian Rothchild-Black, indeed. Even if he wasn’t as bent as a nine-bob note, I’d never permit anyone remotely connected to me to marry someone with such a ridiculous name. Sebastian Rothchild-Black, indeed. You can’t honestly believe I’d be associated with a Jew.”

  Hannah Schneider stood up and marched over to Major Peabody. “You are despicable. How dare you.”

  “I dare because it’s my right as a gentleman as well as an Englishman.”

  “You should be hanged.” Hannah’s chest heaved in anger. “And I would love to be the one holding the rope.”

  The tour guide was staring, openmouthed.

  Debra turned to face him. “Better close your mouth, Clive, or you’ll let the bees in and get stung.”

  Clive Green must have figured it wouldn’t be good for the owner of the tour company to insult any more guests and stepped forward. “Ladies and gentleman, on behalf of Peabody Mystery Tours, I want to apologize for this unfortunate display.”

  A red-faced Major Peabody marched out of the room, followed quickly by his niece and her fiancé, the beautiful Sebastian.

  Ruby Mae approached Hannah Schneider and comforted her while the woman collected herself.

  Once the t
hree purveyors of discord were gone, the tension relaxed in the room. Clive Green turned on the charm. Within minutes, he had everyone relaxed while we introduced ourselves. The tanned American couple introduced themselves as Dr. Vincent Blankenship and his wife, Tiffany, from Miami.

  “Oh, you’re a doctor?” Irma started to pull down the top of her blouse. “I’ve got this rash—”

  “I’m on vacation!” the doctor shouted and turned away.

  Irma shrugged and took a sip of her drink, completely unphased by the snub. When her red-faced companion with the big teeth identified himself as Dr. Albus Lavington, professor at the University of Saint Andrews, she fawned over him and all was once again right in her world.

  A thin, sickly woman, who clutched a small suitcase, introduced herself as Lavender Habersham, Prudence’s daughter.

  Hannah Schneider apologized for her unseemly behavior, which was quickly waved away. She introduced herself as a housewife from Brighton and became weepy when she explained that this trip was supposed to have been an anniversary present. Unfortunately, her husband, Eli, had died just two months ago. Her children thought it would be good for her to go on the tour anyway, since she was an avid mystery lover. At that moment, I knew why I felt connected to Mrs. Schneider. We were both united in grief. It had been more than a year since my husband, Leon, died. However, there would always be a spot in my heart that nothing could ever fill.

  The German businessman didn’t seem to grasp much of what was being said but introduced himself as Oberst Senf. To everything else, he merely smiled and nodded.

  “I wonder how he plans to learn anything on the tour if he can’t speak or understand English?”

  Nana Jo shrugged. “I guess he can try Google translate or something.”

  Clive Green finished by introducing himself as a twenty-year veteran of the Metropolitan Police, also known as Scotland Yard. When his position was made redundant, he took his years of knowledge of crime and the criminal underworld of Great Britain and joined forces with Major Horace Peabody in the Mystery Tours. He finished by reviewing the itinerary for the next day.