Passport to Peril Mystery - 03 - Pasta Imperfect by Maddy Hunter

Author:Maddy Hunter
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9780743482912
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 2007-03-01T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

No one actually saw her fall," Duncan informed us the next morning on our way to Pisa. "Unfortunately, most of the people on the gallery were congregated around a man who'd collapsed from apparent heat exhaustion, so while they were administering to him, Ms. Bowles, regrettably, fell to her death."

"That could have been me," Jackie whispered beside me.

"Jeannette?"

She gave me a narrow look before covering up a yawn. "The guy suffering from heat exhaustion. Now, aren't you glad I had sense enough not to climb those stairs again?"

"Rough night?" I asked, when she yawned a second time.

"My sleep cycle is really messed up."

Mine was improving. Surprisingly, I'd slept pretty well after Mom had helped me mend my clothes last night, so I was feeling good today. I was feeling especially good that I was out of my Laura Ashley dress and into a pair of white capri pants with a black-cropped U-neck. Yes!

"The authorities are still investigating whether the death was accidental or deliberate," Duncan continued over the loudspeaker.

"Have they ruled out suicide?" someone asked.

"The police captain I spoke with informed me that it's rare for tourists to commit suicide while on holiday, especially if their plans involve leaping from a tall building. Historically speaking, people usually do that at home."

Unless they're from Iowa, where the local architecture pretty much eliminates that option completely.

"So what do the police think happened?" Dick Teig called out.

"They're not clear about what happened," Duncan replied. "And they're frustrated that by the time they arrived on the scene yesterday, people who might have been potential witnesses had already descended the stairs and exited the cathedral. They did round up some stragglers in the stairwell to question them, but from all accounts, no one saw much of anything."

"I'd like to say a few words if I may," Gabriel Fox said, rising from his seat in the front. He turned, facing the rear of the bus. "Jeannette and I had an opportunity to chat at length yesterday while we were in the queue at the cathedral."

Not to mention while he was wrapped around her outside the baptistry.

"For those of you who didn't know her, I would characterize her as a confident, well-spoken woman with an insatiable appetite for good food and an award-winning talent for writing about it. Her reviews appeared in the cuisine section of national newspapers and travel magazines, and if she said the lobster thermidor at the Mount Washington Hotel was unsurpassed for flavor and texture, you knew to order it. Her awards included" -- he slid his hand into his pants pocket -- "just a minute. She gave me a list. Let's see. The Julia Childs Food Review Award. Yankee Magazine Award for Culinary Excellence. The Washington Post's Reviewers Choice Award. The Vermont Romance Writers Sexiest Cowboy Award."

She'd been writing about a cowboy? Hmm. I guess Gillian Jones couldn't expect to corner the cowboy market forever.

"The New England Romance Authors Spiciest Love Scene Award. The list goes on and on." Gabriel returned the paper to his pocket.

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