Lana pursed her lips and started to shake her head, but she knew Jess was right. Perhaps Carl’s death was a blessing in disguise, at least as far as Sally was concerned. Assuming, of course, she wasn’t convicted of causing it.
“Are you staying on for the rest of the trip?”
“I don’t have much choice; I can’t afford to fly back early. I might as well enjoy the rest of it.” Jess turned on her heel and entered the lobby.
“Great,” Lana muttered and trailed her inside.
27 Why Would I Leave Without a Fight?
Lana warmed her icy limbs by the lobby’s fireplace before going back to her room. As she entered her hallway, Lana heard yelling and a lamp breaking. Helen and Tom must be at it again, she thought with a sigh. She hoped Dotty’s travel insurance would cover those kinds of incidental expenses.
She put her ear to their door, only two away from her own, curious to see what this marital spat was about.
“Why would I leave without a fight?” Tom screamed.
“You’ve destroyed Dad’s business. What more do you want?” Helen shot back, her voice vibrating with emotion.
“After putting up with your shenanigans for so long – everything,” Tom retorted.
“You bastard! Your laziness ruined us. You don’t deserve a penny.”
Why do those two stay together? she mused. Lana shook her head, reminding herself that she was the last person in the world who should be judging other people’s marriages. She sure hadn’t seen the end of hers coming. Though based on their constant bickering, Lana hoped Tom and Helen would divorce soon, before one murdered the other.
Lana stood back from their hotel room door. She’d heard enough. As she opened her own, Lana thought back to the phone call Helen received in the riverboat’s lounge. Why had Helen’s accountant called her earlier? Helen said it was something to do with refinancing a mortgage. Perhaps the accountant had discovered something fishy about their finances that Tom hadn’t yet told her about.
Lana added “Helen and Tom’s finances?” to her to-do list. She would have to ask Jeremy about their financial situation as well as Carl’s criminal background. Since she was awake, tonight was as good time as any to email Jeremy. Chances were great he was celebrating the holidays with relatives, but she had promised Dotty that she’d do everything she could to help Sally. And Dotty was the one person on this planet she did not want to disappoint. That woman had done so much for her, checking into her guests’ backgrounds was the least she could do to repay her kindness.
28 Spa, Lunch, and Communist Statues
December 31 – Day Five of the Wanderlust Tour in Budapest, Hungary
Lana spent an hour typing up her questions for Jeremy before emailing them off. After finishing her cup of tepid tea, Lana fell into a deep sleep. Rippling water, fireworks, and banging doors filled her dreams. When she woke at 7:45 a.m., she didn’t feel rested, even though she’d slept through her alarm.
Realizing she was supposed to be in the breakfast room greeting her guests in ten minutes, she pulled on the same clothes as yesterday and raced downstairs.
Luckily only the Fabulous Five were early. And from the looks of it, they were almost finished with breakfast.
“Ladies, how are you doing? Did everyone sleep well?”
“Never been better. I do like a good down comforter. And this one is a beauty. If it wasn’t so bulky, I might try to sneak it home in my luggage.” Sara giggled.
“Lana, why not grab some breakfast and join us?” Frieda asked, gesturing towards an empty chair.
“Don’t mind if I do. Does anyone need anything else?”
After refreshing everyone’s plates, Lana scooped up a bowl of yogurt and fresh fruit, then joined her guests.
“So, ladies, what tickles your fancy today? Memento Park, the city bus tour, or Széchenyi Spa?” Lana asked, her tone innocent, as if she didn’t know exactly what the Fabulous Five were planning on doing.
“The spa is calling our name. I want to get a full-body massage,” Nicole said. “Have you been there yet, Lana? I hear the architecture is quite spectacular.”
“You should join us,” Frieda added.
“Oh, I guess I could,” Lana said, realizing that she had nothing planned for her only free afternoon in the city. “The spa sounds great, actually. I need to make sure everyone gets on their buses and take care of some paperwork before I can leave. But I can come over and join you afterwards.” She was flattered that they would invite her to tag along on their free day.
As Lana finished up her breakfast, Helen and Tom entered the room. Helen looked as if she hadn’t slept a wink. Instead of her normal designer wear, she had on a faded pair of jeans and a loose-fitting T-shirt. Her eyes were puffy from crying, and the circles underneath were deep purple. In contrast, Tom was smartly dressed and chipper.
“Good morning, ladies,” Tom called out to the Fabulous Five.
The ladies waved back tentatively, apparently as surprised by Tom’s open attitude as Lana was.
Lana helped get them settled, then asked, “What is on your agenda today? Memento Park, the city bus tour, or Széchenyi Spa?”
“None of the above,” Tom replied cheerfully. “I’m taking Helen to lunch at the New York Palace Café.”
Lana’s eyes widened in recognition. According to Dotty’s guidebook, it was one of the most expensive restaurants in Budapest. “Oh, that’s really generous of you.”
“Nothing but the best for my wife, right darling?” Tom grabbed Helen’s shoulder and pulled her close. Helen sighed deeply and looked away.
Just then, Jess appeared, sullen and withdrawn. She dished up her breakfast, then sat at an unoccupied table. The Fabulous Five’s whispers kicked into overdrive.
“Hi, Jess. What would you like to do today?” Lana asked, doing her best to keep her tone light.
“I want to see the Communist statues.”
“Great choice,” Lana said, relieved Jess didn’t want to visit the spa. That was one less drama to have to deal with today. Memento Park, an open-air museum filled with the Communist statues that once dotted the city, did sound intriguing. But right now, Lana was more interested in relaxing and taking in the spa’s unique architecture than a history lesson. “The Memento Park trip does sounds like a fascinating tour. The bus will pick you up in an hour. Does that sound good?”
“Sure,” Jess said, keeping her eyes on her food.
Lana headed to the reception desk to confirm her guests’ reservations. After she’d sent Jess and the Fabulous Five off on their tours, Lana went upstairs to change her clothes and check for messages. Of course there were none; it was early morning on the West Coast, and Jeremy was probably still sleeping. Until he got in touch, there was nothing more she could do.
“I guess I’ll have to go to the spa,” she said, a smile splitting her face.
29 Széchenyi Spa
Lana couldn’t believe the enormous orange and gray building before her was a spa. It looked more like a palace. After purchasing her ticket and finding the locker room, Lana slowly walked through the Széchenyi Baths Complex, taking in the impressive neo-baroque architecture and masses of happy bathers. There were eighteen pools and thermal baths her guests could be in. She started outside where, despite the falling snow, the pools were filled to the brim. The snowflakes melted in the steam hovering visibly above the warm water. Lana searched the faces of the many bathers, but didn’t see the Fabulous Five. When she crisscrossed through the interior space, Lana was entranced by the marble columns and elegant railings marking off the many baths and swimming pools. It was so much more stylish than she could have imagined. Steam filled the rooms, making it more difficult to find her guests. After walking around in circles, Lana finally found Frieda, Rebecca, and Sara relaxing in one corner of a whirlpool.
“Lana, you made it! Climb on in. The temperature is perfect,” Frieda said, moving over to make more room.
Lana sank slowly into the hot water. “This is the
life,” she said as she stretched out and leaned back. The gold details on the arches above seemed to glow in the steam-filled air.
After her body adjusted to the hot temperature, Lana asked, “Where are Nicole and Julia?”
“They’re both getting massages. We wanted to unwind in the pools first,” Sara explained.
All four women closed their eyes and sunk down into the water so that their chins rested on the surface. Bubbles from the jets tickled Lana’s nose. Her short bob danced in the water. “This is the life, ladies,” she murmured.
“So, Lana, did you always want to be a tour guide?”
“No, it was a last-minute decision,” Lana said, her tone guarded. She didn’t know how the ladies would react if they knew this was her first tour.
“Oh, what did you do before?” Rebecca asked.
“I was an investigative journalist for eleven years, before I lost my job.”
“Oh, the recession destroyed the job market, didn’t it?”
Lana sighed heavily. She couldn’t lie to them. “It wasn’t that I couldn’t find work. No newspaper would touch me with a ten-foot pole.”
“I don’t understand,” Frieda said.
“I discovered a wood-processing plant was releasing contaminants into local waterways, causing massive salmon deaths. My source had documents showing how the company was bribing the inspectors. Their lawyer cried libel and sued my newspaper. Unfortunately my source refused to go on record after his family was threatened, meaning we lost the case and my editor and I lost our jobs.”
“Oof. That’s got to sting,” Rebecca said.
“You could say that. Since then, I’ve worked as a tour guide and yoga instructor.”
“At least you have your health,” Frieda added, patting her arm.
“Just because you can’t write for newspapers doesn’t mean you can’t write anymore. Heck, there are tons of writers making money with their blogs and as freelance writers. Never give up,” Sara said firmly.
Lana chuckled. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but simply having my name in the byline would trigger a lot of hate mail.”
“You could always use a pen name,” Sara pushed.
Lana frowned. “I don’t know.”
“Never say never, as the saying goes,” Sara said.
Lana ducked her head under the water, not wanting to continue the conversation. When she broke through the surface, Lana stared up at the ceiling, considering Sara’s words. Why couldn’t she write again? Not for profit, but to feed her soul. Writing had always been the one thing she was good at, and not doing it was like living with one arm tied behind her back. After the libel lawsuit and the backlash she’d had from every other newspaper she contacted, she hadn’t dared write anything again. Freelance work was out of the question. Yet Lana had never considered blogging for fun.
She would have to use a pen name. The last thing she wanted was to be trolled online by the wood-processing plant employees or any of her former colleagues – many of whom didn’t believe that she’d truly had a source. Lana knew their hurtful whispers were born from their jealousy. But looking back, she wished that someone else had gotten the scoop and that she’d never written that damn story.
“So what does your reporter’s nose tell you?” Rebecca said, interrupting Lana’s thoughts. “Did Sally really do it? I can hardly believe that she is capable of killing anyone, but it’s not looking good for her,” Rebecca said, blunt as ever.
“I cannot believe she would hurt Carl, as much as she may have wanted to. She loved that man to bits,” Sara said.
“Okay, if Sally didn’t do it, who did? Who is the killer in our group?” Frieda asked, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
“Agatha Christie said that most murders were committed for one of four reasons: jealousy, greed, a desire for power, and revenge,” Sara responded.
“I didn’t know you read her mysteries!” Frieda exclaimed.
“Of course I do. She and E.L. James are my favorite authors; I’ve read all of their novels.”
“Do you mean the woman who wrote Fifty Shades of Grey?” Lana sputtered.
“That trilogy really gets my heart racing,” Sara tittered.
“Then they’d be against my doctor’s orders. My blood pressure’s already too high, and reading those books might mess with my medications,” Rebecca snickered.
“Can I borrow one from you after we get home?” Frieda asked.
“When do you have time to read, Frieda? You’re obsessed with soap operas,” Sara said, disdain in her voice.
“I’ve been watching General Hospital for thirty years now. It’s an addiction, I admit it. If only they’d end the darn show, then I’d have more time to read.”
“Or you could turn the television off,” Sara offered.
“Once you start, you can’t stop. They’re like potato chips,” Frieda said.
“Or cocaine,” Rebecca added, nodding knowingly.
Frieda slapped the water, sending bubbles flying. “Ladies, who is the murderer?”
“If it makes you feel better, I don’t think it’s one of you. Nor do I think the Hendersons had anything to do with it. None of you knew Carl, nor did you have reason to harm him,” Lana said.
“Well, that’s a relief,” Rebecca said.
“So that leaves Jess, Helen, and Tom,” Sara said.
“You can’t forget Sally. She did have a good reason for wanting Carl dead.”
“You do have a point, Frieda. Let us consider her motive first,” Rebecca said.
“Sally pushed Carl into the Danube,” Frieda said.
“In a fit of rage,” Lana interjected.
“What if she realized how easy it was to push him in and decided to try again when everyone was sleeping?” Rebecca suggested. “The way he was carrying on was shameful. I would have wanted to kill my husband if he’d done that to me.”
“I don’t know. Do you really believe Sally killed Carl or tried to kill Jess? She just doesn’t seem like the type,” Lana said.
“It’s the nice ones that snap when they finally crack,” Frieda said.
“She does have the strongest motive, Lana,” Sara added. “And she can’t explain where the missing pills went. If Mrs. Henderson was poisoned, it might have been with Sally’s medication.”
Lana considered telling the ladies about Sally’s suicide attempt, but rejected the idea. It was too personal to share. “Does anyone really think she meant to kill Mrs. Henderson?”
“She was probably trying to kill Jess. They were sitting at the same table.”
“But how? She couldn’t have crushed up the pills and put them in the carafes of tea and coffee before you all returned from Visegrád! I was there the whole – oh…” Lana’s voice trailed off.
“What do you remember?”
“Sally helped me set out the cups and carafes before you all returned. I guess I did leave her alone in the lounge when I went down to the pier to greet you.”
“So she had the motive and opportunity,” Rebecca confirmed.
“But there were no assigned seats. She couldn’t have chosen the placement of the guests. And there is no way Jess would have listened to her if Sally had tried. How could she have known where anyone would be sitting?”
“For all you know, she guided Mrs. Henderson to that chair, knowing Jess would sit with them instead of us.”
“But if she did poison a carafe of tea, everyone who drank from it should have gotten sick or at least drowsy. Right?”
“Maybe she poured Jess a cup and dumped it out before anyone else could drink from it.”
“I don’t know, I think I would have noticed,” Lana said.
“Poor Margret. I guess the police will soon know whether she died of natural causes or not,” Sara said, shaking her head.
“I don’t know how Sally did it, but even you have to admit that her case isn’t looking good, Lana,” Frieda said.
“Before you all convict Sally, shall we consider the rest, starting
with Jess?” Lana asked.
“Why would Jess kill Carl?” Rebecca asked.
“If he married Sally, she would miss out on the inheritance. But as it stands, she’s the beneficiary.”
“But there is no inheritance,” Sara protested.
“Jess didn’t know that until after he died. If she truly believed that Carl had left her a yacht and successful business, than she must have been terrified to find out Carl was going to marry another. Surely he would change his will to benefit Sally if they did. That could explain why she’d killed him in a fit of passion,” Lana pushed. Though she wasn’t convinced Jess did it, the young waitress was still at the top of her suspect list. Lana scolded herself for not paying more attention to her guests’ comings and goings the night Carl died.
“Jess might be a marriage-breaking hussy, but I don’t believe she’s the murdering kind. Finding another sucker to sponge off of sure seems easier than murder,” Frieda said dismissively.
“Okay, what about Helen and Tom?”
“What about them? Those two socialites didn’t know Carl, did they?” Frieda asked.
“I did hear Carl and Tom fighting when we were in the labyrinth. Tom demanded that Carl return money he’d given him, but Carl had gambled it all away. So they must have met before coming on this tour.”
“Were they business partners?”
“I don’t know,” Lana admitted.
“You can’t get blood from a stone. Maybe when Tom realized Carl would never pay him back, he got mad and accidentally killed him?” Frieda offered.
“Frieda, you have an excellent point,” Lana said. Since Carl’s death, Tom had seemed far more assured of himself, even daring to stand up to his wife. He must be so relaxed because he thinks he got away with murder, Lana thought. “The brandy!”
“Do you want a shot of brandy now? It’s too early for me. That stuff set fire to my throat.”
“No, the bottles of fruit brandy Tom bought in Visegrád. I thought it was strange that he offered to share shots with the group. And Helen carries Valium in her purse. He must have been worried that Jess would tell Helen about his deal with Carl, so he tried to poison her with his wife’s drugs.”
Death on the Danube Page 13