Chapter 51 - Tender Feelings

Image by Krishna Varshney from Unsplash

"You're mad," Gary said. "Completely and certified bonkers."

He ran a hand through hair that was already a curly mess and Ike suppressed a strong urge to ruffle it some more. Geez, she really needed a break. Like now.

Focus girl!

Okay, that sounded like a plan. Now,  where had she been when her blasted libido interrupted?

She couldn't blame the man; her idea WAS everything he said and then some. Not that she would ever tell him. The same way Ike wouldn't ever confess to the feeling of giddy relief caused by his lordship's wonky but soothing presence that had poured oil on the confusion and disgust previously awash in her mind. With that mess out of the way, her mind once more fired on all cylinders.

Sort of.

Only one way to sort out this muddle fast and with (hopefully) minimum fuss. Still, a bit of prodding would be needed before Gary would see things her way. She flipped through possible strategies in her mind and settled on a diversion.

"What a rude thing to say to a lady, my lord."

"I've told you before, don't mylord me. As to the lady part, let's not go there, shall we? As to the trying to trap the killer part, no way José. The bit with calling in the cavalry I like, so if you could do that for me, I would be very grateful."

With fake demureness, Ike fished for the phone among the clutter in her bag. At least this time she had remembered to take it with her. She might not be good with locking the door of her room, but never again would she forget her handbag. The results last time had been pretty catastrophic.

"Okay, I'll let the signore in azurro know what is going on. But I told you before, we need evidence. Otherwise, Guidetti will never believe me."

"What evidence would that be? Your dead body?" Gary shook his head and limped towards the balcony, presumably to check for incoming killers.

"Now you've given me an idea," she said and placed her call.

No, the Commissario was not available. Yes, they would leave a message. Like they had before. What would it be this time?

"Tell him, I know who the murderer is. And tell him he's after me. I just saw him in front of my hotel. He might have seen me, in fact, I'm pretty sure he has, so the Commissario had better be quick. Did you get that?"

From the stunned silence on the other end of the connection, she gathered she might just have got her message across. A subdued voice confirmed the suspicion and rang off rather hastily.

Gary stared at her from across the room. Something was going on with the muscles in his face, his mouth kept twitching.

"Why did you do that?" he said.

"Well, you wanted the cops alerted. Voilà, as Brigitte would say."

"You might regret saying that when that detective turns up and we've got nothing to show for his trouble."

"My words exactly."

Gary groaned. "This is worse than in Germany. At least there the killer only wanted to scare us off the case, not off us completely."

"Not us, me."

"Now, there's a thought."

"Actually, I think dear Brian won't leave you in peace once I'm singing with the angels. He's got it in for you as well, old chap."

Gary's mouth did that twitchy thing again. "If the guys on the top floor let you anywhere near the harps, they must be just as insane as you are. Otherwise, I fear you might be right. Brian's got a chip on his shoulder the size of a flying saucer. Wanted Emma and me to buy into his company and develop the trips under his banner. Never took no for an answer, or rather, he took it as an insult. When she... When she left me, he was the first to ring up, not for condolences but to renew the offer. Had the audacity to say that with her gone I wouldn't make it."

The glare in his Husky eyes came straight from the North Pole.

"Chill, I hear you. Right now, he sees me as the biggest obstacle to getting control of LiteraTours."

Icicles got shot her way. "What makes you so sure?"

"It's logical, I'll explain later. Right now, I think we have some work to do."

The upper crust of the permafrost thawed. "Oh, do we?"

"We need to find that tosser again. He hasn't seen me. If he had, good old Brian would be up here already."

From the open door to the corridor came the clanking and rattling of the elevator cage. It had been doing that twice before, and every time Ike had listened with breath bottled up in her chest. But other than hearing doors slam nothing had happened.

"What do you plan to do? Jump around in the street with a banner that says 'stranglers this way please'? Though I like the idea of leaving this room. Not much in the way of emergency exits."

Ike didn't respond as her ears had just picked up a noise that didn't belong to the plushy silence of the Pensione Violetta.

A soft squeaking of wheels in the corridor.

###

With refreshed panic gripping her by the neck, Ike swung around. "He's here."

Gary looked confused. "A minute ago you said—"

"Forget what I said. I'm telling you he's here. He might not know about you. That's our only chance."

"It could be the chambermaid."

"What if not?"

"Fine. You hide in the bathroom, I'll wait here and—"

"No, you hide in the bathroom and I wait. He wants me first, remember? And why wait here?"

Gary pointed. "Mirror. Make a movement, and whoever comes in will inevitably look towards the left."

And then what? Lob the phone? Lob Gary? No wouldn't work if he were hiding in the washroom. Also, he was a tad too heavy for that.

"I would prefer it if you let me do this. I've got my crutches." He waggled them as if to prove a point.

"Stop arguing, please. Just move," Ike hissed.

Gary compressed his lips, limped into the bathroom where he switched off the light she had somehow left on. The humming noise from the ventilator she hadn't even noticed until now stopped.

Ike strained her ears towards the corridor.No squeals, no movement, no nothing.Just the thumping coming from her chest and a funny sound that might have been caused by her brain, spinning like a hamster on steroids.

Squeak. The hamster couldn't have been quieter.

Ike stared at her pale reflection in the mirror. It stared back but otherwise seemed rather useless.

"Hear anything?" the bathroom whispered.

"Shh."

A creak from the front door. Ike's inner hamster ratcheted up for the next Olympic sprint record, and she found her sweaty hands strangling the straps of her shoulder bag. Now there was an idea. She could lob that or clobber Brian, the murderer with it. But it meant get terribly close to a madman.

Who wasn't mad really. Just angry at the world.

Creak, squeak.

Nothing in the mirror. Not just yet.

Her imagination, ever so helpful, filled out the blanks. It threw dark shadows onto a sunlit wall, showing her pale spidery fingers clasping the edge of a coffin, a knife wavering closer to a shower curtain . . .

Stop that rubbish!

She sensed rather than saw or heard the air shift ever so slightly. Had the outer door just opened? Ike moved her balance and hefted the bag. The figure in the mirror did likewise.

Any minute now.

"Ike?" whispered the bathroom.

"Shh!"

Outside, life came to a standstill. Then it moved again with a rushing sound so faint it got smothered by the silence roaring in her ears.

A soft creak, further down the corridor.

Then the clanking and rattling from the elevator on his way up, so sudden and loud Ike launched herself skywards.

Something fell over close to her, followed by a shout. She whirled around.

"Are you okay," asked the bathroom, anxiously.

She swung back. Only her reflection in the mirror, so she allowed her hand wielding the heavy bag to drop.

"He might be gone." Even her voice sounded hamstery.

"You sure?"

Was she? Ike sagged against the wall, the echo of the squeaks still in her ears. Was it over or did that sound mean the bells were tolling for her? Only one way to find out. She straightened.

Shouted "Banzai!" and powered into the door that led into the vestibule.

An empty vestibule.

Bang!

The sound came first, followed by Gary crowding the small lobby between the front door and the hotel room itself.

"What on Earth—"

"He really is gone."

"Huh? Why? That makes no sense?"

"No idea, old bean, he didn't file a leave request with me."

Still wielding her handbag, Ike dashed into the corridor, but it was as empty as the vestibule had been before Gary shifted his bulk across. Okay, he wasn't all that bulky come to think of it. Taller and more solidly built than Ben, he announced his presence through other means than an overdose of aftershave.

Gary limped after her like a dutiful dog on three legs. Àpropos—where was the other crutch?

"Crapola," he said. "Perhaps it was the maid after all."

"No way was that the maid. They do this room service yelling thing and don't sneak around like that."

A grin flitted across Gary's face, gone the next second. "What now Gunga Din?"

Good question. In a cosy mystery the heroine would have come up with some nifty trick that would have enabled Ike to bag her suspect and to hand him, her or it (depending on genre) over to the cops, nicely bow-tied and gift wrapped.

Ike's bag of nifty tricks required reading material and a lot of preparation, none of which was any good whatsoever in a crisis situation. All she had at her disposal was an overweight fancy backpack and a paedically challenged lord of the realm who sucked a bit as a sidekick.

"I'm going down." Ike, having peeped over the bannister to check the stairs (empty) pushed the call button on the lift and heard an obedient clank from down below. "I need to know what's going on. Perhaps the chap is still hanging around in the vicinity."

"Don't do this to me," Gary said.

"Wimp." That comment would hopefully ensure that he would come with her. It might be hard to admit, but without his presence, she didn't feel quite as brave.

When the lift arrived (fortunately free of villains on wheels), her calculation added up. Gary entered the elevator with her.

"Where's your other crutch?"

"Was trying to work out how to best throw it and somehow dropped the thing on my foot."

"The injured one?"

"No the other one."

That must have been the bang she had heard. "Ouch."

"Indeed. Are you sure this is such a good idea? I mean, us going after a murderer? Assuming that was him in the corridor."

"I'm sure of that. Was and still am. Call it female intuition."

Gary snorted.

Idiot!

Do let me know if you have questions or comments on my novel. Constructive suggestions and feedback are always welcome! And thank you for reading. In doing so, you give my writing a purpose.