Free Toured to Death by Hy Conrad

already.”
    This vacation had been Jolynn’s idea. Vinny had never suspected her of being a mystery fan. When she read at all, it was a magazine or a star biography. But she had somehow latched on to the notion of using this rally to bring her closer to the seventeen-year-old boys, Vinny’s boisterous, football-playing baggage from a previous marriage. If it worked, he figured it would be worth the extravagance.
    It wasn’t working.
    Jolynn was nearly twenty years younger than Vinny, late twenties to his late forties. She stood a good six inches below his brawny six feet plus, and the wedding pictures from three months ago showed her posing among the hulking Mrozeks, looking dour and dark and overwhelmed. Her black hair and exotic good looks stood in sharp contrast to the dirty blond homeliness that Vinny had inherited and passed on to his sons. She was their opposite in almost every way, as flinty and hard as Vinny was overstuffed and soft.
    The interior of the Naval Museum was little more than a huge spiral ramp five stories high, with display cases and paintings and an occasional cell off to the side, where the larger pieces of ancient weaponry were on display.
    Jolynn trudged her way up to the fifth-floor level, pulling herself along the iron rail that jutted from the stone wall. Upon arriving, she proceeded to ignore her stepsons and shove a miniature flag into Vinny’s paw. Her lilac perfume seemed strong enough to stir the flag into a flutter. “What the hell are we supposed to do with this?” she demanded.
    They had been handed the strange multicolored flag at the museum’s entrance by the man from the rental car agency. Against Jolynn’s piercing protests, he had insisted on taking back their Mercedes, luggage and all, exchanging it for this flag.
    â€œI’m not sure we were supposed to come in here,” Vinny said. “I mean, they take our car, right? Which means there’s got to be another mode of transportation. A boat or a train.”
    â€œThis is supposed to be a road rally.” Although not technically a complaint, Jolynn whined it with the same intonation, and the boys registered it as yet another mark against her. “Why would they take away our car?”
    â€œIt’s a mystery to me,” Dominick quipped for the hundredth time. Snatching the flag from his father’s hand, the teen wandered up the ramp toward the open battlements. “What country is this from? Does anyone have a clue?”
    â€œI still think Jolynn’s supposed to show her butt,” Donovan cracked as he joined his brother in the dappled sunlight.
    â€œThey’re just teasing,” Vinny cooed soothingly as they reached the roof of the fort and followed the boys outside. “They know how it gets to you.”
    â€œOf course it gets to me. If you had raised them to be a little respectful . . .”
    Only the faintest of breezes disturbed the air. The smell of the sea was mixed with a hint of diesel—and Jolynn’s lilacs. Vinny had always had a sensitive nose. It was part of what made him a great chef. His initial attraction to Jolynn, he suspected, had been at least partly based on lilacs.
    â€œDamn. Look at this!” Donovan was yelling excitedly from the far side of the roof. “I found it. I found another flag.” When Jolynn and Vinny caught up with the twins, they were standing by the battlements, fishing in their jeans for change.
    â€œAnybody got a euro?” Dominick asked. His hand came out of his empty pocket and pointed to a duplicate of their tiny flag. The cheap, colorful cloth was taped to the side of a pair of pay-per-view binoculars.
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    Amy paced back and forth along the quai Lunel, peering up the streets leading to the Naval Museum, cleaning her glasses every minute, as if it would help. She’d been dreading this kind of situation, but sooner or later it was bound to occur. The first two days had been nearly