by Maddy Hunter
“Funny you should mention that.”
“I don’t know many women who can brag about having two such good-looking bucks chasing after them. Neither one of them can stop talking about you. Why don’t you do one of them a favor and marry him?” He paused for a moment’s contemplation. “Unless you think marriage is for old fogies and you’re into something more kinky.”
“No! I want to get married, and this trip is supposed to help me get to know both Etienne and Duncan a little better. The problem is, they’re spending so much time in front of your camera, you’re getting to know them better than I am.”
Guy winced. “Ouch.”
“Exactly.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Mea culpa. I didn’t understand the situation. No more photos. But I couldn’t help myself. Bone structure like theirs comes along once in a lifetime. I thought I could make them famous.”
“They don’t want to be famous.”
“If that’s what they told you, they’re lying. Everyone wants to be famous. It’s part of our culture. Ask my kids. Fame is the in thing, and I’m talking about more than just fifteen minutes of it. You can slink through life unnoticed, or you can choose to make a splash.”
“And you think splash is better?”
“I know splash is better. I’ve had it both ways, and I’ll take splash any day.”
“In other words, you think Etienne and Duncan are being shortsighted.”
“I’m not walking in their shoes, Emily, but I’ll tell you this. My father would have killed to be someone, with a capital S. He envied everyone. He wanted what everyone else had. When I earned some notoriety, he wanted to be me. On his death bed, he said if he had to do it all over again, he’d do everything differently so that he’d be the person everyone wanted to be. I don’t think he was happy for more than a minute throughout his entire life.” He shook his head and raked his hand through his hair. “He died just about a year ago.”
“I’m so sorry, Guy.”
“Thanks. It’s a real shock to lose someone when he’s in perfect health.”
“Excuse me?”
“Prior to being broadsided by a semi, there’d been nothing wrong with him. Afterward, he had so many internal injuries, they couldn’t piece him back together again. His kidneys stopped functioning, so I volunteered to donate one of mine, but preliminary tests showed that I’m diabetic, so that eliminated me from the donor pool. By then it was only a matter of time. He never lived long enough to undergo surgery. That was a hell of a month.”
“It’s too bad he never got to talk to the clerk in the jewelry store here. She would have made him feel really important. She knew all about your family history. Were you aware that in Victoria, the name Madelyn is right up there with the Queen? You should talk to the clerk. She’ll make your head swell.”
“Is that right? Yeah, my dad would have eaten up the attention and been on top of the world. He might have even been happy for a day. Guess my kids will have to experience the excitement for him. They’re going to be so full of themselves. But they’re good kids. They deserve the attention.”
I saw a few familiar faces when we arrived at the shelter. Lola Silverthorn sat on a bench in the bright sunlight, slopping lotion on her legs. Diana Squires waited in the shade beneath the building’s overhanging roof, hardly recognizable in her floppy hat and sunglasses. Roger Piccolo paced the grounds in what looked to be a futile search for rare vegetation. And the two Dicks exchanged belly laughs as they huddled near Lola’s bench.
“Will you excuse me?” Guy asked as he powered up his camera. “Since your beaus are off-limits and Bernice is in absentia, I find myself in the market for willing substitutes. Wish me luck.”
“Have you ever tried looking at people face-to-face instead of through the viewfinder of your camera?”
He laughed. “Too late for that. I don’t know any other way.”
“The tour begins in two minutes!” a man called from the mine entrance.
I caught up to the Dicks, whose belly laughs diminished to giggles when they saw me. “Hi, guys. I see the ladies cut you loose. So what are they up to?”
“Fanning their muumuus in front of the electric hand dryers in the ladies’ room,” Dick Teig howled. “One minute we’re panning for gold at the edge of a mighty river, and the next minute—”
“Splat!” said Dick Stolee, slapping his hands together with belly flop loudness. “Helen stumbled into Grace and they both went down like Sumo wrestlers. It was hideous. The screams. The flailing limbs. The wails for help.”
“I thought they were goners,” said Dick Teig.
“Oh, my God! What did you do?”
“Jumped in after ’em.”
“But you can’t swim!”
“A man’s gotta do what he’s gotta do,” he said humbly.
“That was so heroic!” I gave him a congratulatory pat on his shoulder, suddenly struck by something very peculiar. I stood back, eyeing him up and down. “So you jumped bravely into the river and hauled the girls to shore.”
“Yup.”
“How come your clothes aren’t wet?”
Dick Stolee wheezed with laughter. “Because the water’s only two inches deep!”
“Two inches deep?” I scoffed. “That’s a creek!”
Dick Teig stuck his jaw out defensively. “In Iowa it’d be a river.”
“This way, folks,” our tour guide called out. “Have your tickets riddy. A hundred and fifty years ago, if you worked a mine like this, you could be as young as thirteen years old, and you’d most likely be Chinese. It was dark, dirty work, but the money was good. If you could stay alive, you prospered.”
I let people file in front of me as I paused to dig my camera out of my shoulder bag.
“I hope this tour’s a beaut,” Heath remarked, stopping beside me. “I admire the commercial genius who came up with the idea of having blokes pay to explore a fake gold mine. We should do that in Coober Pedy. We’ve got plinty of real mines to go tramping around in.”
I glanced curiously left and right. “Where’s Nora?”
“She’s afraid of dark places, so Hinry’s looking after her for a spill. He mintioned taking her down to the creek to pan for gold. She’s fond of being in the sunshine. Be nice if she could strike it rich.”
Better still, it would be nice if she could avoid Jake for the rest of the afternoon. He’d been seriously ticked off when she hammered his spider. Considering what a nutcase he was, there was no telling how he’d get even, but I suspected he’d find a way. Poor Nora was probably in Jake’s crosshairs and didn’t even know it. I applauded Heath’s ability to entrust her to Henry’s care. If she were my mom, I’d be hard-pressed to let her out of my sight.
I sighed at my own frailties. I was so freaking neurotic.
“Would you like me to git a picture of you in front of the mine?” Heath asked, as we walked toward the entrance.
“How ’bout I get a picture of you? I bet you’re a lot more photogenic than I am. I can use it in the newsletter I write for our travel club. You’ll add a dash of local color.” Not to mention a ton of sex appeal. I’d entitle it, The Wonder Down Under.
We handed in our tickets, then lagged behind so I could set up my shot. “Right about there is good,” I said, as Heath leaned his shoulder against a vertical support beam.
“Don’t even think of taking a picture without me in it,” Lola cooed as she appeared out of nowhere and muckled onto his arm. She tousled her hair and pressed her cheek against his. “We’re riddy. Shoot.”
Oh, this was nice. I had a perfect shot highlighting half of Heath’s face and all of Lola’s silicone-enhanced chest, but I’d be damned if I’d allow her to ruin my idea. I clicked the shutter. “Great shot!” I’d entitle it, Australian Flotation Devices.
Lola ended the session by cradling Heath’s face and kissing him like a Power Vac intent on sucking the lips off his face. “C’mon, you luscious hunk of man,” she drawled, as she pulle
d him into the tunnel. “I’d feel terrible if you missed anything because of me.”
He stumbled after her, managing a wild gesture in my direction before being consumed by darkness. I glanced around the deserted grounds, looking from cliff top to forest, creeped out by the sudden quiet and feeling terribly exposed. Hearing a twig snap, I spun around, wondering if Jake could be out there someplace, spying on us.
For Lola’s sake, I hoped not.
Shifting the power switch on my camera to off, I hurried into the mine.
Chapter 9
“Don’t surprise me they can’t find them plants,” Nana reasoned late that night. “Your grampa could never find nothin’ neither. Menfolk are like that, dear. I think their ho-hos cause some kinda chronic visual impairment.”
Nana, Tilly, and I were gathered around a table in the hotel lounge, winding down after our big evening of Broadway entertainment at the Princess Theater. While Etienne and Duncan ordered drinks at the bar, I relayed the information I’d scavenged throughout the day.
“Is the university group going to continue searching?” Tilly asked.
I shrugged. “Conrad insisted they not give up, but I’m not sure the plant is even there anymore. I have a sneaking suspicion Diana Squires might be carrying it in her backpack.”
“No kiddin’?”
I regarded the other tour guests who’d stopped off for a nightcap. “Either that, or Roger Piccolo may have done something to camouflage it temporarily, with the intention of going back for it during his conference. He has a number plotted on his GPS unit that could very well be Nana’s angiosperms.”
Nana sucked thoughtfully on her dentures. “So you think one a them followed the Bellows woman outside, knocked her off without no one seein’, made it look like natural causes, grabbed my Polaroids, found the plant, and either stuffed it into a backpack or sent a beam into outer space that’d mark it for future reference?”
Why did my theories always sound more credible before someone repeated them out loud?
Nana gave a little nod. “I like it.”
“You do?”
“It’s completely implausible,” said Tilly. “Your time line is a farce. You flout the laws of nature and physics. Your explanation smacks of wizardry and lone gunman theories.” She nodded her approval. “I like it, too. Sounds like something straight out of the Warren Commission.”
“So how we gonna nab ’em?” asked Nana.
I motioned them to huddle closer. “First thing we need to do is find out what’s in Diana’s backpack.”
“Airport security should be able to help with that tomorrow,” said Tilly. “If the X-ray machine indicates she’s carrying a plant, they’ll definitely want to take a look. The Australian government is very strict about what they allow passengers to transport across state lines.”
“Tilly and me’ll get in line with her so’s we can keep an eye on what’s goin’ down.”
“Good. One of you in front of her and one of you behind. And I’ll go through security ahead of you so I can corner her if she gets pulled aside. I’ll be dying to hear her explanation of how a hundred-million-
year-old plant got into her backpack.”
Nana raised her chubby little forefinger. “Emily, dear, which part a them angiosperms is s’posed to be the good part? The leaves, the root, or the stem?”
“Uhhh—Beats me.” I looked to Tilly for assistance. “Do you know?”
“It might be all three. There’s no way of telling until they get it into the laboratory for testing.”
“If the plant dies, can them folks in the laboratory still run tests on it?”
“Uhhh—” I looked to Tilly again.
“Not being a botanist, I’m not sure how to answer that, Marion, but I would assume that the scientists at Infinity would prefer the plant be alive.”
“That’s what I figured. What I can’t figure is, how she plans on keepin’ the thing alive for the next two weeks if it’s all squushed up in her backpack. The leaves are gonna crumble like dried oregano.” Nana shrugged. “Maybe she can use ’em to make hundred-million-year-old spaghetti sauce.”
“If I could get my hands on Roger Piccolo’s GPS, would either of you know how to use it?” I asked.
“Your father would know how to use it, dear. He’s got one on his harvester, between the mini-refrigerator and the portable cappuccino maker.”
Personal GPS units hadn’t caught on in Iowa, mostly because Iowans never get lost. We’re all born with internal compasses in our brains that make street signs, road maps, and AAA Trip Tiks completely unnecessary. It’s the neatest perk of hailing from a landlocked, tornado-ridden state in the middle of nowhere.
Well, that, and the Iowa chops.
“My apologies for the delay with your drinks, ladies. One Shirley Temple with extra cherries”—Etienne set a glass down in front of Nana—“and one Professor and Mary Ann.” He placed the other highball in front of Tilly, who clasped her hands with girlish pleasure.
“What a delightful surprise, Inspector Miceli. I had no idea there was a cocktail named for us stodgy old academics. I’m honored.”
“It’s just Etienne, Ms. Hovick. My police inspector days are behind me.” He kissed the crown of my head and trailed his thumb across my cheek. “Be right back with the rest of the order.”
“What’d he mean about his police inspector days bein’ behind him?” Nana asked, plucking a cherry off its skewer and popping it into her mouth.
“Did I forget to mention the latest? Etienne took it upon himself to retire from the police force. They gave him a gold watch and everything.”
Tilly swished her cocktail around in her mouth like a professional wine taster. “This is quite tasty. I believe I detect apricot brandy, vodka, and a hint of lime. Has he told you what he plans to do with himself for the rest of his life? He’s rather young to be sitting around, gathering moss on his north side.”
“He can do anything he wants,” Nana piped up. “He’s loaded.”
I lasered a look at her. “About that—You were giving him financial advice on the sly and never bothered to tell me?”
“Do I look like a snitch?”
“No, but—Joblessness? Lavish wealth? This is a lot to have dropped on me all at once.”
Nana sighed. “That was probably your grampa’s last thought, too, when the roof a that ice shanty come crashin’ down on him like it done.” She patted my hand. “It’s not so bad, dear. Trust your young man. He knows what he’s doin’.”
“Here you go, pretty.” Duncan slid a shot glass onto the table then, with a pint of Guinness in hand, sat down beside me. “Try that out for size.” It was white and frothy, with a consistency like melted Marshmallow Fluff.
“What is it?” I gave it a sniff.
“Looks like Kaopectate,” said Nana.
I tongued some froth into my mouth.
“No, no, no,” Duncan said, laughing. “Don’t sip it. It’s a shooter. You’re supposed to knock it back in a single slug.”
“Like chugalugging? I’ve never been good at that. Everything always comes 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.”
