Our waiter arrived-a tall, angular gentleman dressed in pajama-like pants and a white chef's coat with a mandarin collar. "Good evening." He bowed with practiced elegance. "Welcome to Jasmin. Would you care to order anything from the bar?"

"You bet," said Nana, unable to contain her enthusiasm. "I'd like to have one a them Screamin' o.r.g.a.s.ms."

The waiter affected a droll smile as he looked down his aristocratic nose. "Honey, wouldn't we all."

Chapter 11.

"The Barossa Valley was sittled around eighteen-thirty-six by Lutheran farmers from Germany and Poland who were fleeing religious persecution," Henry informed us over the bus's loudspeaker the next morning.

We were traveling northeast from Adelaide, through gorges of raging river water, hills forested with leafy gum trees, and gra.s.sy meadows in shades of green that Sherwin Williams could never duplicate. Vineyards dotted the landscape. Towns gave off an Oktoberfest air. In culinary terms, if Australia's interior was desiccated flat bread, the Barossa Valley was Bavarian cream pie.

"The sittlers built their towns, then planted vineyards that have produced the finest wine ever to tease the human palate. And you needn't take my word for it. You'll be able to judge for yoursilves whin we visit two of the valley's most renowned wineries later today."

"If we have to pay for it, you can count me out," Bernice shouted from the back.

"You don't have to pay to taste wine," d.i.c.k Teig mocked. "Everyone knows that."

"Max Schubert's Grange Hermitage is called the bist rid wine in the world," Henry continued. "Australia has mini distinctions like that. For instance, did you know we're home to the world's largest monolith? Anyone know what it is?"

"Ayers Rock," called Tilly. "Although I believe it's now referred to as Uluru, which is the aboriginal name."

"Brilliant. We also boast the largest living thing on earth. Care to giss what that might be?"

"d.i.c.k Teig's head!" yelled Bernice.

"The Great Barrier Reef," Nana called out. "I seen it on a Travel Channel special."

We pulled into a parking lot surrounded by a forest of pine, tall red gums, and dense scrub. Beyond the trees was a lake that looked deep enough to moor a luxury liner, but I saw no yachts, no speed boats, not even a dinghy. Australia probably hadn't been populated long enough for folks to figure out how to spoil a quiet mountain lake.

Henry killed the engine and powered the doors open. "Wilcome to the Barossa Dam and Riservoir, which feeds water to regions in the south. The dam was completed in nineteen-oh-three and was such an engineering marvel, it was highlighted in Scientific Scientific American American magazine. The retaining wall curves backward aginst the prissure of the stored water, and the resulting structure provides a doozie of a surprise. I'm not going to till you what it is, but the first person who figures it out gits a free drink." magazine. The retaining wall curves backward aginst the prissure of the stored water, and the resulting structure provides a doozie of a surprise. I'm not going to till you what it is, but the first person who figures it out gits a free drink."

That's all he had to say to start the stampede. Out the exits they flew, practically trampling each other in their quest for a freebie. When the dust cleared, the only guests remaining on the bus were Etienne, Duncan, and a bewildered Nora.

"Where's Heath?" she asked, as she struggled to her feet. "I've gotta use the toilet."

"I can help you, Nora." I scurried over to her, Etienne and Duncan close on my heels.

"I can take care of her if you'd like to be in the running for a free drink," offered Etienne.

"You grab one arm, Miceli," Duncan instructed. "I'll take the other."

"It's okay, guys." I gave them each a grateful pat on the back. "This is girls' work, right, Nora?"

She crimped her eyes at me. "You're the girl wot's from the orphanage, aren't you?"

What the heck? Maybe it was time for me to live in her reality rather than expect her to live in mine. "You have a good memory, Nora. That was a long time ago."

"Not so long," she said, looping her arm in mine.

"Go on ahead," I said to the guys. "I'll catch up."

"Are you going to help me find Heath?" she asked, as I walked her to the comfort station directly opposite the bus.

"We can both look for him after you're done," I promised, guiding her through the door. I suspected Diana and Roger had him cornered someplace, so he'd probably be pretty easy to find.

While I waited, Henry jaunted down the front exit of the bus and sat down in the step well, clipboard in hand. "A tour guide's work is niveh done," he said, groaning when a chirpy digital tone rang out. "Cill phones. As to their benefit to society, I rank thim up there with the Spanish Inquisition and boils." He unholstered his phone. "This is Hinry."

I watched his expression mutate from annoyance to concern as he listened for a full minute before uttering a word. "An arrist warrant? I'll be d.a.m.ned. Nothing like this has ever happened before, has it?" He paused. "I didn't think so. Buggeh me. No, I won't lit on."

Nora shuffled out of the ladies' room. "I wanna go back to the bus. Heath'll know to look for me there. He'll fret if he can't find me."

"Gee, Nora, are you sure you don't want to stretch your legs a little before-"

"I'm tired. I couldn't sleep last night. I wanna sit down."

"Okay, I'll take you back."

"Did you see my mum when she brought me to the orphanage? I got a picture of her if you can't remember wot she looked like. You wanna see?"

"Sure," I said softly, "I'd love to see your mum."

After getting Nora settled back on the bus, I stopped to speak to Henry, who hadn't budged from the exit stairs. "I can't pretend I didn't hear what you just said over the phone."

"That's the other problem with cill phones," he complained. "Not only can the conniction be dodgy, the whole world hears what you're saying."

"Arrest warrant?"

"Do me a favor, Imily. Pretind you heard nothing."

"If arrest warrants are being issued, I think you'd better tell me what's happening."

"I'm a tour guide, luv. When my supervisor warns me to keep something under my hat, I do exactly what I'm told because I like my job, and I want to keep it."

"Has there been a break in the Claire Bellows case?" I asked quietly. "Oh, my G.o.d! Have the police figured out there was foul play? That's it, isn't it? I knew knew it wasn't as cut and dry as it appeared. I just knew it." it wasn't as cut and dry as it appeared. I just knew it."

He leaned forward, checked left and right, and motioned me closer. "No one is to know about the warrant. Mum's the word until the police arrive to haul their suspict away. It would go badly for both of us if the suspict should overhear something and decide to part our company prematurely. You know nothing, and I know nothing. Understood?"

"Absolutely." I lowered my voice to an undertone. "When are the police going to arrive?"

"My thinking is, they'll git here whin they git here."

I recognized the look he gave me as the same one I gave my mom the day she decided to alphabetize the contents of my freezer. I hadn't minded that she'd dived into my freezer unannounced. It was the trip to the emergency room to treat her frostbite that put the real crimp in my day.

"Okay," I said, holding up my hands and backing away, "I'm leaving, and you can count on me not to say a thing. My lips are sealed."

He gave me a thumbs-up and I scurried toward the reservoir feeling like I was about to explode. Could I call 'em, or could I call 'em? I was soooo soooo right this time! Vindication! Peter Blunt was wrong and I was right. Someone on our tour was a cold-blooded murderer! Yes! right this time! Vindication! Peter Blunt was wrong and I was right. Someone on our tour was a cold-blooded murderer! Yes!

I stopped dead in my tracks. But who?

"Get a picture of this, d.i.c.k," Helen instructed her husband as she hovered over a scruffy bush at the edge of the parking lot. "Does this thing look like it should be extinct?"

"There's a rodent over here!" Lucille Ra.s.smuson yelled. "I think it's one of Marion's rats."

d.i.c.k Stolee walked the perimeter of the lot, training his camcorder on dirt, rocks, and an occasional candy wrapper.

"The view is supposed to be more scenic overlooking the reservoir," I said as I pa.s.sed him.

"Not interested in scenic. I'm hunting for fossils. Hieroglyphs. Extinct c.r.a.p like that. I'm gonna prove your gramma's not the only one with an eagle eye."

As I neared the dam, I noticed Jake sitting on a rock near a copse of pine trees, head down and knees parted, scouring the ground with his fingertips. Probably in search of another poisonous pest with which to terrorize people. If Henry caught him, I supposed Jake would claim he was collecting rocks, not spiders, so Henry better b.u.t.t out before Jake sued the company for hara.s.sment.

Man, I'd be so happy if the police hauled Jake away, but what were the odds? If Claire died from a spider bite, how would the police know to connect that with Jake? The only people who knew about Jake's escaped redback were Jake, Lola and me, and none of us had talked to the authorities.

Unless- "Emily!" Conrad hurried over to me. "The University of Melbourne is sending a team of zoologists to Ballarat today to search for your grandmother's rat kangaroo. Isn't that exciting? They told me to call them tonight so they can report their findings. They were delirious with antic.i.p.ation. Naturally, I won't accept any of the credit should they find the creature. The glory belongs to your grandmother. But I can hardly wait to see what wondrous discoveries she captures today with her camera."

I gave him a narrow look as he rushed off. d.a.m.n. Could anyone who seemed as genuine as Conrad be capable of murder? Would the authorities be hauling him off instead of Jake? Was it even fair to a.s.sume that because he might have played fast and loose with Nana's plant that he was guilty of murder?

Where was Ellie? I needed to pump her for more information.

Cameras were clicking like crazy as I descended a short flight of stairs and stepped onto a concrete walkway that was narrow as a primitive rope bridge. The dam was semicircular, like half of an enormous satellite dish, with the walkway perched on the edge. To my left lay the reservoir, its water level so high that waves sloshing against the concrete splattered my feet. To my right, the ma.s.sive curved wall that held back the water disappeared into the valley below. I peered over the railing, thinking it was a very long way down.

"Have you found the surprise yet, dear?" Nana's boots clacked on the concrete like Fred Astaire's tap shoes. "Me and Tilly think we got it all figured out. The place is haunted."

I eyed the Polaroid developing in her hand. "Did you take a picture of a ghost?"

"Nope. Listen."

I c.o.c.ked an ear. Background chatter. Film whirring. Birds cooing. Moaning.

Moaning?

"You hear it? Sounds like them noises we heard in the castle in Ireland."

I spun in a full circle, checking out the sky, the treetops, the guests hanging over the railings. "Where's it coming from?"

"Dunno. Sounds like it's real close though, don't it? Kinda like it's comin' from you or me."

And not only moaning. Heavy breathing. Excited Excited heavy breathing. Soft, sucking sounds. Panting. A little slurping. It was like listening to the audio portion of an X-rated video. heavy breathing. Soft, sucking sounds. Panting. A little slurping. It was like listening to the audio portion of an X-rated video.

My face grew hot. "Do you know what this sounds like?" I said in an embarra.s.sed undertone.

"George," said Nana.

I suppressed a smile. "Gee, I'm surprised you didn't say Grampa Sippel."

"Your grampa used to forget what he was doin' and fall asleep halfway through." She regarded me sternly. "Don't tell your mother. She breaks out in a rash every time she thinks about me and your grampa doin' it."

Farther down the walkway, Guy Madelyn leaned against the railing with a silly grin on his face, listening. Osmond stopped beside me and tapped his hearing aids. "My batteries must be low. I keep thinking I hear people having s.e.x."

"Any of you blokes figured it out yit?" Henry asked from the top of the stairs.

"The dam was built on an Aboriginal burial ground and is haunted by ancient wandering spirits?" Tilly ventured.

"It has a leak?" said Margi Swanson.

Henry shook his head. "If you'd hiked the hundred and forty meters to the opposite ind of the walkway, you'd have discovered that whatever you say at that ind can be heard at this ind as clearly as if the speaker were standing beside you. They call it the Whispering Wall-an acoustic miracle of sorts. Something to do with sound waves traveling long distances."

"A parabola effect," exclaimed Tilly.

"Quite right. Give a listen now."

Birds cooing. Water sloshing. Insects buzzing.

Hey, what happened to the moaning, panting, and slurping?

"Doesn't seem to be anyone over there at the moment," Henry lamented.

"Someone was there a minute ago," Nana piped up. "And they wasn't alone."

"They were making kissy-face noises," said Alice Tjarks. "We all heard it."

Like a circus audience instructed to observe the spectacle in the center ring, we riveted our attention on the far end of the curved walkway, raising our collective eyebrows when Lola and Heath strolled into view. Uh-oh. This wasn't good.

"Noises won't cut it," said Henry, nudging us aside as he maneuvered around us. "Let me trot over there so you can experience the whole package."

It was at that moment that I noticed Jake standing at the top of the stairs. I didn't know how long he'd been there, or how much he'd heard, but he was there now, and he wasn't smiling.

Nope. This wasn't good at all.

Chapter 12.

"You'll notice that this vineyard has no system of irrigation," our winery expert pointed out as we gathered at the edge of a field of ripening grapes. Wire trellises, thick, gnarly vines, and black soil stretched for acres before us, as impressive as any Iowa cornfield. "Australia is the driest continent on earth, and South Australia, where the Barossa is located, is the driest state in Australia, so we dry-grow our grapes. This means that in order to find water, the vines must push their roots deep into the earth. This produces fruit of superior quality, with dipth, color, and flavor that you often find missing with irrigated vines."

I was hanging out at the back of the group, where I could observe Jake Silverthorn without being too obvious. He'd been eerily quiet with Lola after the incident at the dam, but I could see anger simmering in his eyes and knew his sullenness could explode into violence at any moment. I had to be on high alert to herd my group in the opposite direction if he finally did pop. Jake probably wouldn't take kindly to the group's newfound enthusiasm for picture taking, especially if they took close-ups of him slapping his wife around, or breaking a camera over someone's head. Guys like Jake didn't appreciate the concept of the Kodak moment.

"These vines were planted in the early eighteen-forties and are still growing on roots that came from European and South African vines. This gives the Barossa the distinction of being home to some of the oldest Shiraz, Grenache, and Mourvedre vines in the world. If you'll follow me, I'll show you the oldest vine in the vineyard."