A Tourist's Guide to Murder

by V. M. Burns

  Dr. Blankenship glanced back at Nana Jo, who must have guessed the nature of the conversation because she merely said, “Go. We can handle this.” He looked from Hannah to Ruby Mae and Nana Jo and then nodded and left.

  Hannah lifted Lavender’s head so she could drink the tea. Then, she gently placed her head back on the pillow. After a few moments, she repeated the steps, all the while muttering soothing phrases of comfort.

  I stood by, watching for a few moments, and then backed myself to the door. “I should go and let you all take care of this.”

  “Samantha Marie Washington, if you leave this room, I’ll put you over my knee and spank your bottom.”

  “You don’t need me. I’m not the one with nursing experience and . . . wait.” I scowled. “I’m a grown woman. You can’t spank me.”

  She stood to her full height and glared. “Wanna bet?”

  We stared at each other for several seconds, but I knew I was no match for my aikido-trained septuagenarian grandmother and backed down. “Fine.”

  There was a knock on the door, and Nana Jo glanced at me.

  I hurried over and opened the door to find the professor pushing a cart with a teapot of hot water, Ziploc bags, steaming hot towels, and a bowl.

  “Push that stuff over here,” Nana Jo said. “Now, Sam, you’re going to squeeze the water out of those towels, cram them into the Ziploc bags, and then—”

  There was another knock.

  I hurried to answer and found the German businessman with an armload of T-shirts with the hotel’s logo. He handed me the shirts and then turned and left.

  Nana Jo took one of the shirts and wrapped it around the Ziploc bag filled with the hot towel. She placed one blanket over the shaking woman and then placed the homemade hot water bottles around her, with two on her feet. When she was done, she placed another blanket over the top, and Hannah, Ruby Mae, and Nana Jo continued their efforts to keep Lavender warm.

  Nana Jo had also increased the thermostat in the room so it was a tropical eighty-five degrees. I was soaked with sweat and wringing wet. I stood as far away from the bed as I could without incurring the wrath of my grandmother.

  After a few minutes, Lavender’s teeth chattering slowed down substantially. Then, nothing. I stared at the bed, afraid to breathe. When my curiosity grew too much, I whispered, “Is she all right?”

  Nana Jo stood up and stretched. “She’s asleep.”

  I released the breath I was holding. “Thank God.”

  Nana Jo turned to Hannah. “What did you put in that tea?”

  Hannah smiled. “When my husband died, I had trouble sleeping, but I don’t trust those new-fangled medications doctors push on people now.”

  Ruby Mae stretched and nodded. “I know what you mean. Every time I go to the doctor, all they want to do is give you a pill. Last time I went to the doctor, my blood pressure was a little high, and can you believe he tried to put me on blood pressure medications?”

  Nana Jo glanced at Hannah. “I don’t know about your national health care system, but in the United States, the pharmaceutical companies are running the whole country, and they’ve got a pill for everything.”

  Ruby Mae shook her head. “It’s a crying shame. They used to try to help people. Now, they just give you a pill and that’s it.” She put a hand on her hip and shook her finger in the air. “I told that man, he ain’t giving me no blood pressure medication to treat something that he hasn’t even tried to fix.”

  I should have known better than to interrupt, but I’m going to blame my poor decision on the fact that it was early and I hadn’t had coffee. “But hypertension is dangerous and—”

  Ruby Mae snapped around and pointed her finger in my direction. “And don’t you start lecturing me either. I got enough of that from my own children.”

  I stared but said nothing.

  “My point is that my blood pressure isn’t high because of a lack of blood pressure medication. If my blood pressure is too high, then he needs to figure out the root cause of the problem and treat that.”

  “Good point,” Nana Jo said.

  “I mean, there used to be a time when doctors would put you on a diet and suggest exercise or more sleep, but now they don’t even try. They just give you a pill and send you on your merry way.” She pursed her lips and tapped her head. “Well, I told him he’s going to need to put those brain cells to work before he puts me on some pills for the rest of my life.”

  “Doctors are the same everywhere,” Hannah said. “Pills, pills, pills.” She reached in her purse and pulled out the bottle I’d seen earlier. She held it up.

  Nana Jo read the label. “Melatonin.”

  Usually, I zone out when Nana Jo and her friends start talking about medications, but I was familiar with melatonin. After my husband Leon died, I had trouble sleeping, and my doctor recommended melatonin. Then, a few months later, one of my dogs, Oreo, kept waking up in the middle of the night. So, when my vet suggested the same thing for my ten-pound poodle, I was able to use the same bottle, just in a smaller dose.

  “Between the melatonin, strong tea with sugar, and all those hot water bottles, she should sleep like a log, at least for an hour.”

  Ruby Mae wiped her brow. “Do you think it’s safe to leave her for a bit? If I don’t get out of this oven, I’m going to pass out myself.”

  Nana Jo glanced back at Lavender. “I think she’ll be okay. Let’s just go out into the hallway. We’ll keep the door propped open so we can hear if she wakes up.”

  We filed out of the room, and Nana Jo placed several of the towels in the doorway to keep the door from closing, and we were able to get out into the blissfully cool hallway.

  Ruby Mae went to the lobby and came back with a maid and several folding chairs. We thanked the young woman and unfolded them and sat down in the hallway, making sure we had clear sight into the room.

  Once we were settled, Nana Jo asked, “What do you think happened? Obviously, her mother is dead, but do you think it was natural causes?”

  We shrugged.

  Dorothy and Irma came around the corner. Dorothy stood in the center of the group. “Have you heard what happened?”

  We shook our heads.

  Dorothy leaned against the wall. “The police just arrived and went upstairs. Clive announced that we would have a free day this morning and he would pull everyone together this afternoon to tell us our next steps.”

  “The police?” Irma asked. “Is that normal?”

  “They didn’t call in the police for Major Peabody,” Ruby Mae said.

  Hannah shook her head. “No, it’s not.” She paused and glanced around at each of us. “You don’t call the police unless there’s been a murder.”

  Chapter 11

  “So, someone murdered her?” Nana Jo said.

  “Why are you looking at me? I didn’t kill her!”

  “Don’t tell me you think it’s a coincidence that Major Peabody and Prudence Habersham both died within days of each other on the same tour.” Nana Jo tilted her head and stared.

  I thought for a minute. “Something is definitely wrong. I just can’t seem to put my finger on it right now.”

  “Good. I knew you didn’t buy that horse poop that Clive has been shoveling us. You’re much too smart for that.”

  “Are we going to investigate?” Irma said. “If so, then I need to go back to Harrods and buy a couple more dresses.” She must have noticed the puzzled looks on our faces because she added, “I’m not going to be able to get any men to tell me their deepest, darkest secrets dressed like this, am I?” She waved her hands down her body. Normally, Irma’s attire was extremely revealing, but apart from a few short, tight outfits and some lingerie, she had been dressing much more conservatively than normal. She extended her leg. “I had to search all over the entire store to find a pair of heels high enough.”

  Nana Jo swatted her leg. “Put that chicken leg down and listen up while Sam gives us our assignments.”

  Ha
nnah looked puzzled. “Assignments? I don’t think I understand.”

  Ruby Mae put down her knitting and turned to her friend. “Well, over the past few months, we’ve managed to solve a number of... murders.”

  Hannah’s eyes widened. “Real murders?”

  “It’s not that many murders,” I said.

  “Actually, it turns out Samantha is a natural-born sleuth,” Nana Jo said proudly.

  Irma nodded. “She’s another Miss Marple.”

  I tried to intervene but was cut off when Ruby Mae added, “She’s the brains behind the operations, but we all help.”

  “It turns out we’re pretty good at getting people to talk,” Dorothy said. “I think people think of us as a bunch of harmless old ladies.”

  “We have a big network of friends,” Nana Jo said.

  Irma smiled. “And lovers.”

  Ruby Mae shook her head. “Between all of us, it turns out we know a lot of people.”

  “We all ask questions and investigate,” Nana Jo said, “but it’s Sam who manages to put the pieces together and figure out whodunit.”

  Something in the pit of my stomach made me want to puke, but I sat there and shook my head. “It’s not that easy.” I took a deep breath. “We’ve been lucky in North Harbor, Michigan. Detective Stinky Pitt couldn’t investigate his way out of a brown paper bag. We’re in an entirely different country. I doubt very seriously if the British police will allow a bunch of American tourists to nose their way into their investigation.” I sensed Nana Jo was on the verge of speaking and rushed to intercept her. “Besides, we’re on vacation. I’m on vacation. I’m supposed to be doing research for my book.”

  “Book?” Hannah said. “Are you an author?”

  I could feel the heat rise up my neck. Writing was a dream that I’d kept hidden inside and only shared with a few people for so long. Even though I was now on the verge of realizing that dream, I still felt uncomfortable actually saying the words out loud. Thankfully, I didn’t have to.

  Nana Jo smiled. “Samantha just got an offer from a publisher to buy her first book.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Hannah said. “Congratulations. What type of books do you write?”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat that always seemed to come when I had to talk to people about my books. “I write mysteries. Cozy mysteries. Cozies are—”

  Hannah scooted to the front of her seat with a big grin on her face. “I love cozies. I read a ton of them every week.”

  I smiled, relieved that I didn’t have to explain what a cozy mystery was, but also her enthusiasm for the genre was invigorating. “I love them too. I used to read at least four a week before I opened a mystery bookshop.” I sighed. “Now, between the store, writing, and . . .” I glanced around at Nana Jo and the girls. “Having a life, I don’t have as much time to read for pleasure as I used to.”

  “I can’t believe I’m talking to a real-life cozy mystery author.” Her eyes sparkled, and she smiled even bigger. She leaned close and whispered, “Who’s your favorite author?”

  “Agatha Christie.”

  She clapped and leaned back. “She’s the reason I wanted to take this tour.”

  “Me too.”

  “When I heard this tour was going to Torquay, well—”

  “I hate to interrupt this meeting of the Agatha Christie fan club,” Nana Jo said, “but can we get back to the problem at hand?”

  Hannah and I both sat up prim and proper with our hands in our laps and gave her our most innocent looks.

  “I don’t know what kind of cow dung Clive has been shoveling, but there’s something fishy about Major Peabody’s death. I can’t put my finger on what’s wrong, but I can feel it in my bones.” She leaned down and gazed into my eyes. “Now, you look me in the eyes and tell me you still think that man died naturally.”

  As much as I didn’t want to believe that Major Peabody’s death was by anything other than natural causes, I had to admit the truth. “I will agree that something isn’t right.”

  She smacked her hands together. “I knew it.”

  “Hold on a minute. I’m not saying I think he was murdered.” I could tell she was about to interrupt, so I hurried on. “I’m not saying he was murdered, and I’m not saying he wasn’t.” I paused. “What I’m saying is that I agree that something is . . . odd.” I tried to put my finger on exactly what was wrong, but I couldn’t. “Something isn’t right, but it’s just a little too perfect to have a group of mystery fans on a ‘mystery lovers tour’ of England and to find themselves in the middle of a suspicious death.” I shook my head. “That’s just a little too much of a coincidence for me.”

  “But you do think we should investigate, right?” Nana Jo said.

  “It probably wouldn’t hurt if we asked a few . . . discreet questions.”

  “Hot diggity!”

  I turned to Irma. “Maybe you could ask Professor Lavington a few questions. I assume that’s who your date is with tonight.”

  “I’ll definitely need to do some additional shopping,” Irma said. “I think Albus is a leg man.”

  “Albus?” Nana Jo said.

  I turned to Dorothy. “This may seem strange, but do you think you could talk to your German friend?”

  “Well, I can talk, but I don’t speak German, so I don’t know how much he can really understand.” She pulled out her cell phone. “But I downloaded an app that will translate conversations from English to German, so I’ll definitely give it a shot. Is there anything in particular you want me to find out?”

  I thought for a moment, unsure if I should tell her my suspicions. I wanted her to be unbiased. “Maybe you could ask him how he came to pick this tour. Did he know Major Peabody? Or, if he’s a mystery fan, who’s his favorite mystery author?”

  She gave me a look that indicated she knew I was holding something back, but she merely nodded.

  “Ruby Mae, do you think you could talk to Clive Green? Find out how he came to be in business with Major Peabody and . . . well, anything else you think will be helpful. You’re so good at getting people to talk to you, so if you wouldn’t mind asking some of your friends at the hotel, maybe they know something that might be helpful.”

  Ruby Mae smiled. “I’ll be happy to help.”

  “What about me?” Nana Jo asked excitedly.

  “I was hoping we could divide and conquer. One of us will take Debra, and the other one will tackle Sebastian, the demigod. Debra’s going to be a hard nut to crack, so I’m not sure we’ll be able to get much out of her, but . . . it’s worth a try.”

  Nana Jo cracked her knuckles. “I’m pretty good at cracking nuts.”

  Hannah Schneider had been sitting quietly, but when I finished, she raised a hand. “Isn’t there anything I could do to help?”

  I smiled. “I didn’t want to assume, but you’ve been excellent with Lavender Habersham. I think she trusts you. I was hoping you could see if she knew anything about her mother’s claims that Major Peabody was her father.”

  Nana Jo nodded. “I got a look at her face when her mother dropped that bombshell in the pub and I can tell you, she was more surprised than anyone.”

  “I got the same impression.” I looked at Hannah. “It’s going to be a bit of a tricky situation since she’s obviously had an emotional shock. I wouldn’t want to upset her by asking too many questions, but . . .”

  Hannah smiled eagerly. “I’ll be the soul of discretion.”

  “I can’t believe we’re doing this again, but . . . it looks like ‘the game’s afoot.’ ”

  Chapter 12

  Dorothy left to get started sleuthing. Irma claimed she needed to go shopping before her date and headed off. Nana Jo glanced at her watch and then looked at Ruby Mae, Hannah, and me.

  “No need in all four of us sitting here now, while she’s sleeping.”

  We went in the heat box and watched while Nana Jo checked the Ziploc bags.

  “This room is like a greenhouse.” She removed
the makeshift hot water bottles. Then, she checked Lavender’s pulse. Everything must have been okay because she nodded and then pointed to the hallway.

  Once we were back in the cool hallway, Nana Jo said, “What if we take one-hour shifts?”

  Everyone agreed.

  “She seems to be sleeping pretty soundly,” I said, “so how about I take the first shift.” Everyone nodded. I looked at my grandmother. “You can check on the doctor and get some lunch. If he comes back before then, I’ll text you.”

  Ruby Mae volunteered for the second shift, followed by Hannah and then Nana Jo. Once everyone had wandered off, I peeked in the room. Lavender was still sound asleep, so I sat in the chair in the hall, pulled out my notebook, and tried to sort things through in my head by writing.

  Lady Elizabeth, Victor Carlston, and Detective Inspector Covington stood at a safe distance, while Dr. Haygood examined the body of Captain Jessup. The doctor felt for a pulse but found none. He opened the captain’s eyelids and then did a very cursory examination. After a few minutes, he stood up.

  “I’d say he’s been dead somewhere between four and six hours.” The doctor looked at his pocket watch and then pulled out a paper and began writing.

  “Oh God,” Victor said, running his fingers through his hair. “How?”

  Dr. Haygood glanced at a bottle on the nightstand and picked it up. “We won’t know for sure without an autopsy, but it looks like a heart attack. Although, there’s an ugly rash on his chest, but it may be unrelated.”

  “You mean he wasn’t murd—” Victor glanced around. “It was natural causes?”

  “Like I said, we won’t know for sure without an autopsy, but there are no signs of struggle or anything to indicate his death was anything other than natural causes.” He turned to stare more closely at Victor. “Unless you have reason to believe—”

  “No. No. I don’t. It’s just . . . I didn’t know he had a bad heart.”