Death of a Second Wife (A Dotsy Lamb Travel Mystery) (5 page)

“I’ll show you a faster way to get there. Let me know when you want to go.”

“Does it involve the elevator Patrick told me about today?”

“Damn him. I like to keep it a surprise.”

Babs descended the stairs from the landing. “I’m trying to adjust the hem on Erin’s wedding gown,” she said, folding herself into one end of a sofa. “It’s a bit long, and I don’t want to run the risk of her stepping on the hem when she’s walking down the aisle.”

Juergen excused himself, closed his computer, and left Babs and me alone.

I asked her what she knew about Juergen. Beyond the facts that his primary home was in Zurich and he was CEO of the Merz family enterprises, whatever they were, I knew nothing.

Babs folded her hands and crossed her gracefully slanted legs at the ankles. “Juergen is an adventurer. In fact
, until recently when he had to take over control of the family businesses, he was a real dare-devil.” She glanced toward the stairs as if assuring herself Juergen wasn’t still within earshot. “He has climbed every face and ridge on the Matterhorn. Ten times, Patrick told me. He’s climbed Everest and Kilimanjaro. He’s done the motorcycle race on the Isle of Man. He’s ballooned across Asia and I don’t know what all. He’s done a research trip to Antarctica.”

“Is he married?”

Babs paused, her folded hands tensing slightly. “No. I don’t believe he’s ever been married.”

Something told me Babs had designs on Juergen. He would make a great catch, wouldn’t he? As far as I knew, Babs had stayed single since her marriage to Erin’s father ended. I changed the subject. “I know Erin intends to continue at the zoo after the wedding. Do you know how far it is from their new condo to where she works?”

“Wonderful of Chet, buying them their first home! I was completely surprised, weren’t you?” Babs’s tone of voice was the only indicator of her excitement since her expression was incapable of showing anything. I waited for her to answer my question. “Oh, you asked how far it is. I don’t know. But Erin is determined not to give up her career. That’s how it is now, I guess.”

“Patrick says Erin is great with animals.”

“A girl used to be considered an old maid if she wasn’t married by thirty, but I think that number is higher now, don’t you, Dotsy?” She droned on, oblivious of my comment. “Of course, you and I have jobs. But then we have to, don’t we? It’s an economic necessity when you don’t have a man to see to that side of things for you.”

Babs made my neck itch. I tried to recall what I’d been told about Erin’s father. Had he died or had they divorced? The family was Roman Catholic, I knew, so it may have been one of those annulment things the church sometimes allows in certain circumstances. Whatever had happened
, I was sure Mr. Toomey was in a better place now.

* * *
* *

I heard the crackle of a door opening somewhere below, and then the sweet, familiar voice of my life-long best friend, Lettie. “Where
is
everybody?”

I jumped up and, arms out, waited for her to appear. There she was! Red, spiky hair, red nails, bright purple luggage. Five feet one and appropriately round for her age. We hugged and she made her normal little squealing noises. Juergen had reappeared so I introduced him and Babs to Lettie.

“I didn’t think I was ever going to get here. Those roads! Are they as scary in the daytime as they are at night? We were flying along in this little toy cab sort of thing and the road was going like . . .” Lettie demonstrated hairpin turns with her stubby little hands.

“There are more ways to kill yourself in the Alps than just skiing. Believe me,” Juergen, standing in the doorway, tilted his head to one side and grinned.

“Don’t I know it!” Lettie’s eyes widened. “Everywhere you look they have Red Cross stations. On every corner. All over the country. I’ve never seen so many Red Cross stations. Everybody here must need a rescue every day!”

“Red Cross?” Juergen asked, his brows lowered.

“Are you sure they were red crosses, Lettie? Or were they white crosses on a red background?” I asked, already anticipating the answer.

“Well, I
. . . now that you mention it, they
were
white. With red backgrounds.”

“That’s the Swiss flag, Lettie.”

“Oops,” she said, covering her mouth with her hand.

Erin joined us. She and Patrick took the sofa, Juergen reclaimed the big leather chair, but Lettie declared she’d rather stand since she had been sitting all day. She patted her backside to emphasize the point. Babs watched from her nest in one of the chintz-covered chairs.

“Well! Let me tell you how I almost got arrested in Geneva!” Lettie said, stepping forward to take center stage.

Oh, golly! I loved hearing about Lettie’s harebrained predicaments—
afterward
. I hated being there at the time, and Lettie seemed to have particular problems with airports. I recalled the strip-search a few years ago at the airport in Milan when the water pistol in her carry-on showed up on x-ray.

Juergen interrupted her. “Before you begin
. . .” He paused and pulled a cell phone from his pants pocket, looked at its screen, then held up a finger. “Excuse me. Just a minute.” He answered the incoming call. “Yes. The Italian wine.” He pressed the phone to his sweater and looked at me. “Dotsy? Do me a big favor, will you? Go to the kitchen and ask Gisele to start a pot of decaffeinated coffee for us. Do you know how to find the kitchen?”

“Yes.”

“If she isn’t there, would you mind starting the coffee yourself? The decaf should be in the cabinet above the coffee maker.”

He went back to his phone conversation, mouthing, “Stephanie,” to the rest of the room. “No, no. The
Lacryma Christi
. With black labels.”

* *
* * *

The kitchen was large, with a bright red Aga cooker dominating one end. I had never seen a real Aga, but since they were often mentioned in detective stories set in England, I had looked it up on the Internet and found they cost more than some cars. I could see why they were found only in the large manor houses. This one had several ovens, and six burners.

While the coffee brewed, I snooped. The refrigerator seemed too small to hold provisions for a house party the size of ours. I speculated that they might also keep supplies in the bunker. That made sense. It would be like a cave inside. Caves, I knew from Luray Caverns near my home in Virginia, maintained a steady ambient temperature year round. An ideal place to store food and wine. That must be where Stephanie was now. Juergen had been talking to her about wine a few minutes ago and he apparently knew I wouldn’t find her in the kitchen. Gisele maybe, but not Stephanie.

I waited until the coffee maker finished gurgling and heard laughter as I carried the pot upstairs. Patrick was convulsed, holding his sides. Juergen, red in the face from laughing, arched back in his leather chair until his eyes found me. “You missed it, Dotsy. You must hear about Lettie’s airport adventure!”

“I’ll tell it to her later,” Lettie said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to turn in. It’s been a long day.”

* * *
* *

Lettie and I stayed awake talking for another hour until my watch said one a.m. We crawled into our twin beds, pulled up the covers, and squashed pillows so we could see each other as we talked. Lettie thought she had picked up on some uncertainty in Patrick and she was concerned. He hadn’t told her anything specific, but there was something in his manner. Patrick was Lettie’s godson
, and they had always had a special bond.

“He seems distracted, Dotsy. Have you noticed?”

Lettie, although a complete scatterbrain in matters of logic, is one of the most emotionally perceptive people I know. Her heart is big enough to enfold the world. Over the years, I’ve come to respect her “vibes” and learned to heed them. She’s not to be trusted around heavy machinery, but if she says someone is worried,
someone is worried
.

I told her about the strange reactions to Stephanie’s phone call at dinner, about Marco’s gift, about Chet’s gift, about my hour alone with Babs, and what Patrick had said about Babs. “And Chet looks really bad, Lettie. He’s drinking too much and he’s lost weight.”

“Serves him right, after what he did to you.”

“I’m over that. Truly I am. Stephanie can have him with my blessings.” I turned over and jammed my pillow against the headboard. Someone tapped softly on our door. “Come in,” I said.

Juergen opened the door a crack and stuck his head in. “Have you seen Gisele?”

“No.”
Strange question
, I thought. Until then, I hadn’t wondered where Gisele lived. Did she live here? I asked him.

“She has a room downstairs. She actually lives in town with her parents, but she stays here when we’re entertaining guests.”

Lettie reminded him that she had not met Gisele yet.

I thought back. “I can’t recall actually seeing her since dinner, Juergen, but I think I heard her. Cleaning up, you know.”

“She wasn’t in the kitchen when you went down to make coffee?”

“No, but the kitchen was clean. The dishes were done.”

“Thank you,” he said and closed the door. I heard his knock on Babs and Erin’s door a second later, and his same question asked again.

“As I was saying, I don’t even want Chet anymore.” I reshaped my pillow and turned back to Lettie. “I spent the last couple of days with Marco, in Capri. Did I already tell you that?”

“Now that’s more like it! You should marry Marco, Dotsy.”

“I don’t want to marry anybody. Besides that, which side of the Atlantic would we live on? We both like our jobs.”

Heavy feet clattered down the stairs, sounding almost as if they were tumbling or falling down to the lower level where I had seen the indoor pool. I heard nothing for a few minutes. Then heavy feet, now climbing to our level, crossed the landing, faded as they entered the dining room, and—I could barely hear them now—continued climbing, a few stairs creaking. I heard steps overhead, back and forth, back and forth, then down again, down some more, back to the pool room.

“Why do you suppose he’s so anxious to find Gisele?” Lettie asked.

“I haven’t the foggiest, and I’m too tired to worry about it.”

We said goodnight and I switched off the bedside lamp.

Much later I jerked awake. Someone was coming up the stairs. I heard a thunk, as if the climber had hit the wall, and a loud belch. After a minute the steps retreated, descending, then faded away.

“Now what?” I heard Lettie mumble.

“That’s Chet, I’ll wager. Lettie, I’m so glad you’re here now, because I feel like something is about to explode.”

Four

I slept until nearly nine the next morning, got up and followed the smell of coffee to the kitchen. Babs and Erin were already there, Babs at the counter smearing a toasted bagel with cream cheese. Erin was spooning a chunky cereal with raisins and nuts into her mouth.

“Help yourself,” Erin said through a milky mouthful of cereal. “We’re the only ones awake so far, I think. Coffee’s ready and there’s bread, butter, jelly—and eggs, if you can figure out how to work the stove.”

I opted for toast and orange juice.

“Look outside,” Babs said, pointing toward a window with her knife.

I looked. It had snowed. The craggy world outside had been covered overnight with a thick blanket of glistening snow. The view from the window was so bright it hurt my eyes. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” I said. “Snow in April. After all, this is Switzerland. But isn’t it lovely?”

Chet, still wearing the same blue shirt and corduroy pants he wore last night, stumbled in. “Coffee,” he croaked.

“It snowed last night, did you know?” I said, handing him a cup.

“Uh—no.” Chet opened the refrigerator door and then spotted the cream on the butcher-block table that dominated the center of the room.

“Stephanie not up yet?” I asked.

“Couldn’t tell you.” He pulled out a stool and sat at the table, one foot searching for a stool rung to hook onto, missing, and hitting the floor. “I slept on the sofa last night.”

We three women just looked at him.

Chet sipped his coffee, grimaced, and scanned our faces with his bloodshot eyes. “What?” he said, defensively. “I came in late, and I didn’t want to wake her up. It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“I wasn’t thinking anything,” I said.

Patrick bustled in, rubbing his hands with glee. “Snow! Did you see? Snow! We’re going to have some fun today! How about it, my love?” He kissed Erin on the forehead.

For the next few minutes, we discussed plans for skiing and sledding and where the necessary equipment for each could be found. I debated within my own head the wisdom of sledding or skiing with my sixty-something bones and a wedding on Thursday. I tentatively decided I’d probably risk it. A leg cast might look trendy with my green dress.

“Guten morgen, meine Freunde!”
Juergen breezed in. He glanced around. “Where’s Gisele?”

“We haven’t seen her.”