out of the water and up the stairs. He snatched his hairpiece from me. After wringing a gallon of river water out of it, he smacked it against his thigh in what I figured was the male version of the blow-dry method. “Looks like it’ll be good as new. Thanks, Emily. You’re all right.”
“D-don’t mention it.” I was shivering so badly, I thought my jaw would crack. My teeth chattered. My knees knocked together.
“It’s damn cold out here, Emily. You’d better get into some dry clothes.” Dick looked at his watch. “And you’d better hurry. We only have a couple of hours until we head back to the bus.”
I stared at his watch in horror. Unh-oh. Everything had happened so fast. Had I remembered to remove my watch before I’d done my Little Mermaid routine? I lifted my arm and reluctantly coaxed the sleeve of my sweater past my wrist. No. NOOOO!
“Something wrong with your watch?” Dick inquired.
I waved it in front of his face. “It’s f-full of water. How can it be f-full of water? It’s brand-new! It’s w-water-resistant!”
“I think what you wanted was water proof. Remember that next time. Gotta run. Have to see what the big deal about the church is. Thanks again.” He held his toupee up like a prized fish and posed in front of his camcorder for a final shot.
“Dick’s hair,” narrated Dick Teig. “Reunited with Dick’s head.”
“Sacre bleu,” I muttered as I peered down at the ruined watch that was costing me the equivalent of ten years’ worth of curly fries. Sacre bleu is a common expression among non-Norwegians in Iowa. From what I can figure, it means, Uff da.
This was great. This was JUST great. How could I have let this happen? I was the student who’d been voted “Most Clever” in my high school graduating class. How could a supposedly clever person be so oblivious?
With a grunt of disgust, I squeegeed water out of my pant legs and shoehorned my feet back into my shoes. “Miss Andrew?” That voice. I knew that voice. I spun around to face Inspector Miceli. I felt liquid heat arrow downward from my navel.
“Inspector. Wh-what a surprise.”
His blue eyes assumed a sooty, grayish cast in the daylight. “Someone from across the river pointed out a commotion over here.”
“I saved a man’s hairpiece from drowning.”
He smiled that beautiful smile of his. “You must have done a thorough job. You’re incredibly wet. Though I must admit, it’s a look that rather becomes you.” He slung off his leather trench coat and wrapped it around my shoulders. This was getting serious. We were already at the part of the relationship where we were sharing each other’s clothing. “What happened to the rest of your group?”
“Inside the church.”
“You shouldn’t stay out here, Emily. I’ll take you back to the hotel so you can change into dry clothes.”
“But I c-can’t go. I need to stay with the group. I’m their new escort.”
“You need to go back to the hotel,” he said matter-offactly. “With me.”
“Okay.” Could I play hard to get, or what? “But I’ll need to stop inside the church and tell my grandmother where I’m going.”
“You go on to my car. I’ll tell your grandmother.”
I gathered up my cardigan and raincoat. We’d only walked a half dozen steps when Etienne’s trench coat started making a sound. I looked down at the coat, startled. “Is it my ears, or is your coat chirping?”
“My cell phone. Excuse me, please.”
He dug the phone out of his pocket, then walked a short distance away to converse. When he returned, he wasn’t smiling.
“Bad news?” I asked.
“Your Mr. Simon. It appears he might have died from something other than a severe asthma attack.”
I remembered what Jane Hanson had said. “You mean, the stress of wanting to be the perfect escort really did kill him?” I felt a trill of alarm. I was only twenty-nine. I had a lot more living to do. Maybe I should rethink this escort thing.
“Something more
Sharon Kleve, Jennifer Conner, Danica Winters, Casey Dawes