"Apparently, Mr. Stolee only stunned it with the curling iron when it was inside his room, so it flew down the hall and got away."

Which was exactly what was happening with our killer. "Do you have any more word about what happened to Shirley Angowski?"

"We recovered her body late yesterday afternoon and autopsied her last night. There's no indication she died from causes other than falling."

An unwelcome chill crept down my spine. So we were no closer to answering the question of whether she'd been pushed or not. "What about her camera bag?"

"We haven't found it yet, but we've a.s.sembled a climb team to search the ravine below the ledge. Weather permitting, they should begin their search today."

"Weather permitting." I glanced at the gray, rainy mist outside the window, feeling tired and a little depressed. "Does the sun ever shine in Lucerne?"

"Occasionally." Then in a low seductive voice, "But I find the mist and rain quite tolerable...especially when it allows a man to engage in more provocative indoor activities." He drilled me with a look that sizzled all the way to the back of my skull.

A delicious sensation tingled all my erogenous zones. I even tingled in places that hadn't been zoned yet. Not only was the man gorgeous, he was good. I mean, he was really really good. This would have been the perfect time for him to drop to one knee and kiss my palm again, but my hands were totally black with ink, so I figured it wasn't going to happen. Unh. I could really use a kiss right now. good. This would have been the perfect time for him to drop to one knee and kiss my palm again, but my hands were totally black with ink, so I figured it wasn't going to happen. Unh. I could really use a kiss right now.

"Forgive me, Emily. It wasn't my intent to make you blush. Swiss women never blush."

"They never blush. They never kid. They never smile."

He laughed aloud at that, a wonderfully soothing sound to my ears. I couldn't remember Zorro ever laughing with so much animation. "You're quite right. Perhaps that's why I prefer American women. You're much more given to laughter than the Swiss. And you do smile more." He zeroed in on my mouth. "You smile a great deal more."

Okay. MAJOR erotic thoughts going on here. I didn't want to get ahead of myself, but I wondered if that confident look in his eye meant he was even more skilled with his blade than Zorro. Hmm. One could hope.

"This is going to be a long day for me," he said. "I'm not even sure I'll have time to eat dinner, but if you'd be willing, I'd like to take you out for a drink later on this evening at the Hotel Chateau Gutsch. It's a wonderfully romantic spot with a belvedere that affords a superb view of the city at night. If the fog lifts, you might even be able to see it; although, I find there's something incredibly intimate about the fog. The way it envelops your body. Caresses your face. Dampens your skin. It's almost like--" He stopped short, seeming to remember himself. "If I planned to pick you up at nine, would you be free to accompany me?"

"Yes." I wanted to keep things short and to the point to avoid any cultural miscommunication between us.

"Yes? That's splendid. I hope you won't be disappointed."

If he was planning to demonstrate his prowess with his sword, I didn't see any possible way I could be disappointed. From where I was sitting, even the sheath looked pretty spectacular.

"And now for the more tedious part of our interview. You know most of the people in your tour group, Emily. You've had a chance to observe them since Mr. Simon's death. Is there anything you can tell me that might shed some light on who might have wanted both Mr. Simon and Ms. Angowski dead?"

I guessed it was time for me to fess up about all the theories I'd formed. "How much time do you have?"

I ticked each item off on my fingers. Helen Teig's suicidal niece. Louise Simon's affair with another man and her rumored divorce from Andy. Lucille Ra.s.smuson's affair with Andy. d.i.c.k Ra.s.smuson's herbal supplements to keep him potent and his wife interested. d.i.c.k Stolee's run-in with Shirley Angowski on Mount Pilatus. The dimethyl sulfate connection to everyone on the tour. When I finished, he ran his knuckles along the curve of his jaw and gave me a long look.

"In other words, there's circ.u.mstantial evidence to support everyone's everyone's guilt." guilt."

I shrugged. "That's my guess."

"Lovely. And, Emily?"

"Yes?"

"Nice sweatshirt."

After breakfast I hurried back to the room to scrub the rest of the ink off my hands, all the while trying to ignore a pain that had started to throb around my temporary crown. It wasn't too bad though. I could live with it. We were scheduled to take a boat tour of Lake Lucerne at eleven, so I had a little time to myself before I headed down to the lobby. Probably just enough time to throw Nana's things back into the suitcase before we moved again.

As I repacked her slacks and pullovers, I realized with sudden horror that unless my suitcase showed up, my attire for my romantic evening with Etienne would consist of my black wool pants and any of a number of Nana's tops that were appliqued with cuddly animals. I could see it all now. The intimate bar of the Hotel Chateau Gutsch. Candlelight. Soft music. The Swiss patrons dressed in their dark Italian suits and close-fitting black sheaths. Me, in a pastel blue sweatshirt with a litter of kittens frolicking on my chest.

I shivered at the thought. I needed my stuff.

I glared at the phone, picked it up, and dialed the front desk. "This is Emily Andrew in room number--" What room was I in now? Nuts. "Just one moment please." I opened the door, checked out the number, and returned to the phone. "This is Emily Andrew in room number 2248. Have you found my suitcase?"

"We're still working on it, Madame."

"I demand demand you find my suitcase. And if you haven't found it by five o'clock today, you will cut me a check that will cover loss of goods, inconvenience, and mental distress." you find my suitcase. And if you haven't found it by five o'clock today, you will cut me a check that will cover loss of goods, inconvenience, and mental distress."

"That's not hotel policy, Ms. Andrew."

"Then change your policy! I've been invited out this evening by Inspector Etienne Miceli of the Lucerne police department. If I have to appear at the Hotel Chateau Gutsch with him wearing pastels, pastels, I guarantee you, heads will roll. Do I make myself perfectly clear?" I guarantee you, heads will roll. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"We've never known Inspector Miceli to wear pastels, Madame."

"No. I'd I'd be the one wearing pastels. Not him." be the one wearing pastels. Not him."

"That's not what you said. You misplaced your modifier. It would have been more correct for you to say--"

"Well, you you misplaced my luggage and I want it back! Today!" I slammed down the receiver and smiled to myself. All those years of phone solicitations for Playgrounds for Tots had really paid off. I'd sounded downright fearsome just now. And what about that ultimatum? misplaced my luggage and I want it back! Today!" I slammed down the receiver and smiled to myself. All those years of phone solicitations for Playgrounds for Tots had really paid off. I'd sounded downright fearsome just now. And what about that ultimatum? If you don't have my luggage back by five o'clock... If you don't have my luggage back by five o'clock...

Wait a minute. Had I said five o'clock? No! I should have said three three o'clock. The stores all closed at five. If my suitcase never showed up, I'd have nowhere to shop for a new dress. I knocked my fist against my forehead. Brilliant, Emily. Truly brilliant. I stared at the phone. I could call the front desk to ask them if I could change my ultimatum, but that would probably gain me nothing more than a snicker from the clerk. Snickering wasn't good. o'clock. The stores all closed at five. If my suitcase never showed up, I'd have nowhere to shop for a new dress. I knocked my fist against my forehead. Brilliant, Emily. Truly brilliant. I stared at the phone. I could call the front desk to ask them if I could change my ultimatum, but that would probably gain me nothing more than a snicker from the clerk. Snickering wasn't good.

Okay, I'd simply have to have faith that they'd find my suitcase. If they didn't, I was screwed.

The pain in my tooth increased as I resumed packing. When I couldn't stand it any longer, I went into the bathroom, stood in front of the mirror, and peered into my mouth. My temporary crown looked like a big clump of Juicy Fruit gum planted between my teeth. Ick. I poked it with my finger. It wasn't loose or anything, so I wasn't sure why it was aching, but I knew I couldn't go through the day without getting some kind of relief. If I had my toiletry bag, I could pop a couple of Excedrin, but my toiletry bag was in my suitcase, and who knew where my suitcase was, so I was going to have to improvise.

I dug out the packet of materials Wally had given me and thumbed through the medical forms that listed the medications each tour member had taken with him. When I reached Jane Hanson, I stopped. Good Lord, she'd brought the whole pharmacy with her. Everything from Aspercreme to Zantac. Maybe a druggist's motto was like that of a Boy Scout. Be prepared. Be prepared. Looked like Jane was prepared to treat any malady from athlete's foot to brain tumors. Looked like Jane was prepared to treat any malady from athlete's foot to brain tumors.

I scanned her list of pain relievers, called the front desk to find her room number, and hiked up to the third floor. I rapped on her door and practically did handstands when she answered.

"Emily. What a nice surprise. What can I do for you?" She was dressed this morning in a navy-and-white gingham blouse, gray polyester pants with an elastic waistband, and penny loafers. Probably a good thing she wore a lab coat at work. Poor Jane needed to spend less time leafing through h.o.a.rd's Dairyman h.o.a.rd's Dairyman and more time leafing through a and more time leafing through a Spiegel Spiegel catalog. catalog.

"The dental work I had done yesterday. My tooth is killing me. Do you have something I can take for the pain?"

"You bet. Come on in. I'll see what I have for you. That sweatshirt is so cute! Did you buy it in Windsor City or did you order it out of a catalog?"

"It's Nana's." I guess that said it all. Her room was huge. Of course, it would have to be huge to accommodate a four-poster bed, armoire, chaise lounge, and three upholstered armchairs. She even had a window dressed with the same kind of posh velvet drapes I imagined Mammy had used to sew that gown for Scarlett O'Hara after the war. "Wow. Nice room." I could handle a room like this. "Is this a prestige suite?"

"It sure is. I didn't know when I'd ever get back to Switzerland again, so I wanted to do it right the first time."

I smiled a secret smile. "I don't have a nice room yet, but I have sources who are working on it."

"I would have preferred a room with a balcony, but the weather's been so bad, I'd probably never get to use it anyway, so why complain?"

Good philosophy. Jane Hanson might not have the best taste in clothing, but her att.i.tude certainly gave me something to emulate.

"Let's see what I have to offer you, Emily."

She'd set up a mock pharmacy on her desk along with her Apple iBook computer in a muted tangerine color.

"Nana has an iBook just like that," I said, "only in blueberry."

"I can't be far from my computer," Jane stated as she scanned her array of medications. "I have to stay on top of the FDA alerts on recalled drugs. You know how it is. One day a drug is working just fine and the next day it's shown to have killed thirty people. That happened a few weeks ago with one of the popular cholesterol medications. I had to phone both Helen and Bernice to tell them to stop taking it." She plucked a bottle from her stockpile and read the label. "My first choice for you would be Motrin. I'd recommend twenty-four hundred milligrams a day, and if that doesn't help, we can increase the dosage to thirty-two hundred. Do you have nasal polyps?"

Gross. "No."

"Any sensitivity to ibuprofen?"

"No."

"Angioedema or bronchospastic reactivity to aspirin or other nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory agents?"

"What?"

"I'd guess that would be no, too." She popped the cap and dispensed several pills into her hand. "I'll start you out on six eight-hundred-milligram tablets for today and tomorrow. When you need more, come back and see me. I have some snack-size plastic bags you can put these in. They're in the bathroom."

As she headed for the bathroom to fetch the bag, I crossed to the window and looked out. Her room faced the same inner courtyard our first room had faced. Yellow brick everywhere. Row upon row of windows. Service area and waste disposal unit directly below. I leaned across the sill to peer into the Dumpster but saw nothing that resembled a twenty-six-inch tapestried pullman amid the ordered neatness of black plastic trash bags. Okay, so thinking someone might have accidentally misplaced my suitcase in the trash was a stretch, but let's face it, I was desperate. Not only didn't I have a dress for tonight, the only footwear I had was what I was wearing--my clunky Nubuck walking shoes that didn't fit right unless I wore heavy socks with them. I stared down at my feet. Not exactly the ideal footwear to complement the short, clingy black dress I imagined I was going to have to buy when my luggage didn't show.

"I seem to have buried the bags under a few things, Emily. I'm sorry to keep you waiting." I heard the echoes of plastic crinkling and pills rattling. I jumped at the sound of gla.s.s shattering on the tile floor.

"Are you all right in there?" I asked.

"Uff da! My drinking gla.s.s." My drinking gla.s.s."

"You need help cleaning it up?"

"No no. It'll only take me a minute. I hope you're not in a terrible hurry."

I checked the face of my little cow watch. "I have plenty of time." I wandered over to her desk to look over her stash of drugs. Amazingly, she'd taken the time to arrange the items in alphabetical order, which sure made it easy to find things. It also made me wonder if the ability to alphabetize was a major requirement of the profession. But this sent up a flag of warning in my head. What if Jane had invited the Ra.s.smusons and Teigs and Stolees to her room? That would have given them easy access to a whole raft of drugs. What if Helen or d.i.c.k or Lucille had used some of Jane's drugs to commit murder? Could the interaction of several different drugs cause a reaction that mimicked dimethyl sulfate poisoning? Oh. My. G.o.d. What if Jane had unwittingly aided the murderer? Had her pharmacist's sense of order allowed her worst nightmare to be realized?

"Have you been socializing with the d.i.c.ks and their wives at night?" I asked in as neutral a tone as I could muster.

"Sure have." I heard toilet paper being ripped from the roll. Pipes groaning. Water running. "We met here the first night. And since it was my room, I decided to invite the Bakkes to join us. And George and Bernice. Since they're traveling by themselves, I thought they might enjoy getting together with the group, at least for one night."

I wondered how the d.i.c.ks and their wives had reacted to the expanded dynamic of the group. Good for Jane! Mother Hubbard watching out for the loners in the group...all the loners, I suddenly realized, except one. "Did you invite Andy to join you that first night?"

"Of course course not. That wouldn't have worked. You know how the Stolees felt about Andy." not. That wouldn't have worked. You know how the Stolees felt about Andy."

I felt a trill of antic.i.p.ation bunch my stomach into knots. I looked toward the bathroom. "Actually, I don't know how the Stolees felt about Andy."

She appeared at the door, her hands full of moist toilet paper. "It was because of that dance school business years ago."

"What dance school business?"

She leaned her shoulder against the doorjamb. "Grace used to run that Arthur Murray dance studio on Main Street, in that brick building between the shoe store and the dress shop. Do you remember? A real nice location. Lots of parking. First-floor access. Well lit. Andy apparently signed up for ballroom dance lessons, but from what they tell me, he took the 'ballroom' part too literally because Grace couldn't get through a rumba or a jitterbug without Andy hitting on someone. She lost a lot of clients because of it, so she ended up banning him from the cla.s.s."

"For how long?"

"For life! Grace was really angry, but so was Andy. He didn't like being humiliated. Unfortunately, he owned the building the studio occupied, so when Grace went to sign a new lease, Andy refused to renew it. She was forced to relocate at the other end of town in that seedy building near the grain elevator. A third-floor walk-up. No parking. No streetlights. Her business really dried up. Then one night when she was closing up, she tripped over a loose board and fell down a whole flight of stairs. That pretty much ended her dance career. She broke her leg in four places. And it never mended like new. She still suffers a lot of pain. You wouldn't believe the scrip she brings in every month for painkillers."

I stood there in a stupor, wondering what other gossip I'd missed while I'd lived away from home. Okay. I could see how Grace and d.i.c.k might blame Andy for the accident. But had Andy's conduct enraged them enough to kill him? Geesch, was there anyone on this tour who didn't didn't want him dead? "So there was bad blood between the Stolees and Andy. I had no idea." want him dead? "So there was bad blood between the Stolees and Andy. I had no idea."

"That's what I heard."

Which further piqued my curiosity. "Who did you hear it from?"

"Bernice. She told me about a month ago when she came in to fill a prescription." Jane disappeared into the bathroom again.

Bernice? The knots in my stomach tightened. Funny how Bernice was always so Johnny-on-the-spot to divulge d.a.m.ning information. How she always managed to overhear conversations despite her supposed hearing loss. How she always seemed to glide in and out of our presence as if she were invisible.

"Here you go, Emily." Jane emerged from the bathroom and placed a small packet in my hand. "Six Motrin tablets in a Ziploc bag."

Funny? At one time, maybe, but suddenly it wasn't so funny anymore.

"Watch your step, please. Step down into the boat." A blonde-haired deckhand greeted us as we crossed the plank onto the cruise boat. On a sunny day, I imagined people would be jockeying for seats on the exposed upper deck, but given the spitting rain and heavy mist today, everyone was filing down to the enclosed lower deck, where they could stay warm. Iowans might not be given credit for having the brashness of New Yorkers or the sophistication of Californians, but they sure know enough to get in out of the rain.

d.i.c.k Stolee was ahead of me with his camcorder glued to his eye. "Cruise boat on Lake Lucerne." He panned the length of the boat. "Life preservers strung along the upper deck. Long-handled fishnet lashed under the rail." He panned left. "Fog on Lake Lucerne." He continued turning in a circle, sucking in his breath when he zoomed in on my face. "Crazy woman who tried to kill me last night."

"I did not!" I protested. "I was only trying to help!"

"Stay away from me," he shouted back. "And that goes for your grandmother, too!" He lowered his camcorder so he could glare at me with both eyes. That's when I saw his nose.

EHHH! It didn't look like a zucchini. It looked like a malignant lump growing in the middle of his face. If the antigun lobby ever saw what I'd done to d.i.c.k's nose, they'd probably start a drive to ban room freshener instead of a.s.sault rifles. But I was looking at d.i.c.k a little differently this morning anyway. Yesterday, he'd been just another tour member. Today, he was a tour member who'd had a plausible reason to want to make Andy suffer. And he'd had words with Shirley on Mount Pilatus. Good G.o.d. Could either he or Grace be responsible for Shirley's death? Could they be the kind of people who took offense at the smallest slight? If d.i.c.k could knock Shirley off for a little tiff, I shuddered to think how he planned to deal with the person who may have permanently disfigured his nose.

"Hey, Stolee," Lars Bakke called out from behind me. "What happened to your nose? You forget to open a door or something?"

I shrank down into the crowd, trying to make myself invisible.

"Did you see how bloodshot his eyes are?" Solvay Bakke whispered to her husband. "I bet he's been tippling in his room at night. I've always suspected he had a drinking problem."

I didn't want to point out that d.i.c.k's red eyes might suggest some kind of ocular sensitivity to Alpine Meadows room freshener. He'd probably be okay with other room fresheners, especially ones that weren't sprayed directly into his eyes.

The real shame here was that if d.i.c.k had had been trying to kill Grace, everyone would be congratulating me this morning for clobbering him in the hall last night. Instead, the hotel manager had confiscated my room spray, and d.i.c.k seemed about to slap a restraining order on me. Could anything else possibly go wrong? been trying to kill Grace, everyone would be congratulating me this morning for clobbering him in the hall last night. Instead, the hotel manager had confiscated my room spray, and d.i.c.k seemed about to slap a restraining order on me. Could anything else possibly go wrong?

The lower deck was set up like a diner with long booths and tables flanking both starboard and port sides. I walked to the far end of the boat and slid into the last booth, hoping to be spared further discussion of the incident in the hall last night. To my right, a sliding window opened onto a vista of rain plinking onto Lake Lucerne and layers of fog hanging over the water. Yup, we were sure going to see some sights today.

"Well, if it isn't Annie Oakley," Wally said as he slid into the seat opposite me. "Nice job on d.i.c.k's nose. What caliber aerosol spray were you packing?"

I shot him an exasperated look. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Hey, you're not lisping anymore. You must have gotten your tooth fixed. Gotta admit, though, that lisp was pretty cute. I'm kind of sorry it's gone. But, now that you're back to your old self, what about that drink at the Hotel Chateau Gutsch tonight?"

"Tonight?" Could I tell him I was going out with another man? Would the revelation hurt his feelings? I didn't want to do that. Better play it safe. "Did I tell you the hotel still hasn't found my suitcase? I'm not sure how I can go anywhere without the proper dress clothes."

"Still no suitcase? This is ridiculous. Okay, when we get back to the hotel, I'll rattle a few cages. They're usually so fastidious about transporting luggage. I can't understand what's happened." no suitcase? This is ridiculous. Okay, when we get back to the hotel, I'll rattle a few cages. They're usually so fastidious about transporting luggage. I can't understand what's happened."

"Ladies and gentlemen," said a voice over the loudspeaker, "vee velcome you aboard the Vilhelm Tell Vilhelm Tell for our excursion of Lake Lucerne. If you vould kindly take your seats. Hot drinks vill be on sale in the bow of the boat once vee are under vay. Vee hope you enjoy your tour." for our excursion of Lake Lucerne. If you vould kindly take your seats. Hot drinks vill be on sale in the bow of the boat once vee are under vay. Vee hope you enjoy your tour."