Twenty-eight

“HOW does this sound?” Antonia cleared her throat. “‘I know what you did on the train.’”

“Like a bad summer teen movie.”

She crumpled the page and tossed it into the fire. “Well, then, what do you have?”

I read from the sheet in front of me. “The train. Tonight at six. You left something behind. I’m willing to discuss returning it.”

Antonia tilted her head back and forth. “That isn’t bad, actually. It leaves the possibility open that the killer left a clue at either Tara or Kim’s murder, making it more likely that you actually have something.”

“Here, help me write these up,” I said. I handed her several sheets of hotel stationery.

“Why meet them at the train?” she asked.

“I admit it’s a little theatrical, but I needed a place that everyone knows.”

“Why not somewhere here at the hotel?”

“Too exposed. If you’re a murderer, you don’t want an audience when you confirm it. Also, here it’s more likely someone innocent might show up, just out of curiosity.”

She nodded. “Makes sense.” We wrote in silence for a few moments. “How many do we need?”

I counted out suspects on my fingertips. “Big Dave, Vance, Jim, Seth, Barb and Bill. Six.”

“Okay, here are my three.” She handed me the folded sheets. “Now what? How, for instance, do we distribute them?”

“Right. Delivery. I hadn’t gotten that far.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Penelope. What is this, amateur hour?”

“Yes,” I snapped. “That’s exactly what it is. And I don’t want to hear any complaining. Either help me figure out a way to do this or let me think in peace.”

“Fine. I’m sorry. I’m just frightened for Chantal and frightened for you, and I think we’re running out of time.”

It was the first time I’d ever heard Antonia apologize for anything. It was a strong measure of the fear she must be feeling.

I squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry, old girl. We’re going to come out of this just fine.”

“Old girl? Old girl?” Pink flushed her cheeks. “Do you know when you can call me that? Never. I’m not sure what I find more offensive, the ‘old’ or the ‘girl.’”

“Fine. Forget I said anything and let me think. What we need is to get the notes delivered without any connection to us. Three are to hotel guests: Big Dave, Vance and Jim.”

Antonia nodded. “Yes, and the other three are going to be here this afternoon for the tasting. Bill said he was coming, and Olympio already told me he hired Seth and Barb to serve during the competition.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how you can possibly pull this off without any of them seeing you. We need someone else to do the drop-offs.”

The drop-offs? “Good idea, Columbo.”

“Well, then, you think of something.”

“No. You’re right. And I know just the person.” I gathered up the notes. “Let me take it from here.” I looked at my watch. “The tasting is scheduled for four. That gives me five hours.”

*   *   *

“YOU’RE trying to solve the murders, aren’t you?” I’d kept the purpose behind the messages vague, but George had put things together. “Of course, I’ll try to help you. Ever since I heard you found that poor woman in the spa I’ve wanted to be of assistance.”

“If you think we should leave it to the police, I understand,” I said.

George huffed. “Harding? If you’re waiting for him to solve anything, you’ll be waiting a long time. Just ask the locals.”

“So I gather.”

“I’m just delivering messages between hotel guests. I don’t need to know what the contents are.”

“Thank you for this.”

“Anything for the guests, after all.” He rubbed his hands together. “Working in a hotel you’d be surprised the things I see and hear. I’ve always suspected half the population’s secretly crazy. The goings-on here this last week only confirmed it.” He paused. “Now tell me again exactly what you want me to do.”

“All I need is for you to take each of these six envelopes to the addressed recipient.” I handed them over. “Say they were left at the front desk when no one was about.”

He flipped through the pile. “So these are our suspects, eh?” He leaned in closer. “My money’s on Big Dave, for what it’s worth. I saw the way that young wife of his, Tara, flirted with the guys around the pool. No man puts up with that for long, I can tell you.”

“George. Can you promise me you’ll just deliver them? Deliver them without comment or making any observations.”

He drew himself up. “I’m a professional. You can’t possibly imagine the outlandish things I’ve delivered to these rooms with a straight face.” He rapped the envelopes against his open palm. “This will be a piece of cake.”

“Okay, so let’s be clear. Three are guests and three will be here this afternoon for the taste competition between Berninni and Martinelli wineries.”

He glanced around the room and slowly tipped his head. “Simple. I can deliver three now and the other three this afternoon.”

“It’s crucial they each think they’re the only one getting an envelope.”

“Ah,” George’s eyes lit up. “This will require a little more cunning on my part. Excellent.”

“Let’s not turn all cloak-and-dagger. You just need to deliver them without being seen.”

George tucked the envelopes into an inner pocket, then stuck his head outside the library door and scanned the lobby. He turned and touched the side of his nose before departing.

*   *   *

“DO you think George can be trusted to deliver the letters?” Antonia posed the question some time later as we sat in the lobby having coffee. The wind continued to blow and most of the guests were availing themselves of the interior activities, which included a number of chess sets and, in the far corner, a billiard room.

“I hope so. All he has to do is get the letters in the right hands. Hopefully the rest will fall into place.” I pinched between my eyes. “I mean, what could possibly go wrong?”

“You jest, but we both know plenty can go wrong. For example, what exactly do you have planned at the train, on the outside chance that someone actually shows up?”

“It’s impossible to imagine the killer being able to stay away,” I said. “They can’t take the risk. Beyond that, well, I’m open to suggestions. I do know I’ll want the police there. I’ll leave it to you to call them and tell them what I’ve done. Connor too.”

Antonia raised a brow. “I would have told him regardless. I mean, when it’s too late for him to stop you. He’d never forgive me otherwise. How do you plan on getting to the train?”

“The bike path. It’s an easy walk, and I can slip away after the tasting.”

Antonia looked at her watch. “The competition is to start in less than two hours. With this wind, people want to be indoors. I should expect we’ll have a good turnout.”

“You know this whole competition thing with Olympio and Berninni Winery is for fun, right?”

She turned to me. “When have you ever heard me joke about the reputation of Martinelli Winery? We have the best wines, and I fully expect to win this little contest.”

I shook my head. “It baffles me. One minute, I would swear you have a thing for Olympio, but the next, you two are at each other.”

Antonia smiled. “We’re both Italian. It feels good to have someone to joust with again. It’s been too long.” She stood. “I’m going to change.” She paused and then reached out to take my hand. She’s never been particularly demonstrative, and I think we were both embarrassed, but she tightened her grip as she held my gaze.

“You don’t need to do this. If you think it’s best to leave it just as it sits, we can put our faith in the police and hope for the best.”

I patted her hand. “Whoever is doing this missed me on the bike path, in the wine cave, and then, to the terrible detriment of poor Kim, in the spa. They aren’t going to stop, and neither can I. Let’s see it through and then go home. All of us.”