grabbed Nana by the arm and sashayed her to the elevator. Three-quarters of our group had decided to be dropped off in town to shop, so only a handful of us had returned to the hotel.
"You seem awful excited, Emily. They must've given us a real spiffy room this time."
We stepped inside the elevator. I punched the button for level four. "It's not excitement. It's anxiety. I don't want to point fingers, but if Mr. Nunzio didn't murder Andy, I think I know who did."
"My money's on Helen Teig," Nana said. "She was probably holdin' a grudge against Andy for what he done to her niece, and it kept festerin' and festerin' until she couldn't stand it no longer. I can't say I like her doin' him in, but if Andy had hurt you like that, Emily, I'd probably wanna do him in, too. I can't figure out how she done it though. There was no blood on the scene, so you know she didn't riddle him with bullets. I didn't see no ligature marks around his neck, so you know she didn't strangle him. She might a suffocated him, but they'll have to wait for the results of the autopsy protocol to decide that."
I stared down at Nana. "Autopsy protocol?"
"That's the file tellin' you everythin' there is to know about how someone died."
"How do you know about autopsy protocols?"
"Investigative Report, dear. You can catch it on A & E almost every night at eight o'clock Central Time, nine Eastern."
That did it. I was going to have to start watching more TV...and thinking like Columbo. I'd even cooked up a possible theory. "Do you suppose someone might have tampered with Andy's inhaler? I saw a movie once where a killer discharged the spray from a woman's inhaler so when the woman had an asthma attack, the apparatus was empty. She nearly died."
"That woulda been the most obvious way to do him in. And tidy, too. No screamin'. No fistfights. No splattered blood. Just release the spray or muck up the chemical balance in his Pirbuterol Acetate. But it don't do much good for all this second-guessin', does it? The police won't know a thing until the serology and toxicology reports come back."
Serology report. Right. I knew that.
"So who do you think killed him, dear?"
Considering all my years of higher education, it was deflating to be scooped by a woman with an eighth-grade education and a satellite dish, but not wanting to steal her thunder, I decided to take the high road. "Well, it could be one of several people, but maybe I shouldn't elaborate until I know more." After all, maybe I'd reached my conclusion too quickly. Maybe there was incriminating evidence about other people that hadn't surfaced yet. Maybe Bernice had mentioned the incident with Helen's niece to throw us off the scent. But whose scent?
"George Farkas was thinkin' a gettin' a pool together to guess the killer," Nana went on, "but he said he'd need more suspects than Helen to make it worth his while."
"That's terrible!"
"That's what I told him. Between you and me, Emily, I think George has a gamblin' problem."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because he shows up at Holy Redeemer every Thursday night to play bingo."
"So do you."
"But I have an excuse. I'm Catholic. Bingo's part a my religion. George don't have an excuse. He's Lutheran."
I shook my head. "I can't afford to be in a pool anyway. I have to buy a new watch."
"You just bought a new watch. Don't it keep good time?"
I coaxed my sleeve up my arm to regard my watch face. The hands had stopped at 10:13. "It'll give me great time twice a day, but when it's not ten-thirteen, I'm going to have a problem."
When the elevator stopped, I pushed open the door and escorted Nana into the hall. We struck out along a corridor to our right, the motion sensors causing overhead lights to blink on as we passed, and followed a maze of hallways until we reached the rooms in the 4620s. "It's right up ahead," said Nana. "That's my suitcase outside the door there."
Yup. There was Nana's suitcase.
"Where's your suitcase, Emily?"
Obviously not in the
"You seem awful excited, Emily. They must've given us a real spiffy room this time."
We stepped inside the elevator. I punched the button for level four. "It's not excitement. It's anxiety. I don't want to point fingers, but if Mr. Nunzio didn't murder Andy, I think I know who did."
"My money's on Helen Teig," Nana said. "She was probably holdin' a grudge against Andy for what he done to her niece, and it kept festerin' and festerin' until she couldn't stand it no longer. I can't say I like her doin' him in, but if Andy had hurt you like that, Emily, I'd probably wanna do him in, too. I can't figure out how she done it though. There was no blood on the scene, so you know she didn't riddle him with bullets. I didn't see no ligature marks around his neck, so you know she didn't strangle him. She might a suffocated him, but they'll have to wait for the results of the autopsy protocol to decide that."
I stared down at Nana. "Autopsy protocol?"
"That's the file tellin' you everythin' there is to know about how someone died."
"How do you know about autopsy protocols?"
"Investigative Report, dear. You can catch it on A & E almost every night at eight o'clock Central Time, nine Eastern."
That did it. I was going to have to start watching more TV...and thinking like Columbo. I'd even cooked up a possible theory. "Do you suppose someone might have tampered with Andy's inhaler? I saw a movie once where a killer discharged the spray from a woman's inhaler so when the woman had an asthma attack, the apparatus was empty. She nearly died."
"That woulda been the most obvious way to do him in. And tidy, too. No screamin'. No fistfights. No splattered blood. Just release the spray or muck up the chemical balance in his Pirbuterol Acetate. But it don't do much good for all this second-guessin', does it? The police won't know a thing until the serology and toxicology reports come back."
Serology report. Right. I knew that.
"So who do you think killed him, dear?"
Considering all my years of higher education, it was deflating to be scooped by a woman with an eighth-grade education and a satellite dish, but not wanting to steal her thunder, I decided to take the high road. "Well, it could be one of several people, but maybe I shouldn't elaborate until I know more." After all, maybe I'd reached my conclusion too quickly. Maybe there was incriminating evidence about other people that hadn't surfaced yet. Maybe Bernice had mentioned the incident with Helen's niece to throw us off the scent. But whose scent?
"George Farkas was thinkin' a gettin' a pool together to guess the killer," Nana went on, "but he said he'd need more suspects than Helen to make it worth his while."
"That's terrible!"
"That's what I told him. Between you and me, Emily, I think George has a gamblin' problem."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because he shows up at Holy Redeemer every Thursday night to play bingo."
"So do you."
"But I have an excuse. I'm Catholic. Bingo's part a my religion. George don't have an excuse. He's Lutheran."
I shook my head. "I can't afford to be in a pool anyway. I have to buy a new watch."
"You just bought a new watch. Don't it keep good time?"
I coaxed my sleeve up my arm to regard my watch face. The hands had stopped at 10:13. "It'll give me great time twice a day, but when it's not ten-thirteen, I'm going to have a problem."
When the elevator stopped, I pushed open the door and escorted Nana into the hall. We struck out along a corridor to our right, the motion sensors causing overhead lights to blink on as we passed, and followed a maze of hallways until we reached the rooms in the 4620s. "It's right up ahead," said Nana. "That's my suitcase outside the door there."
Yup. There was Nana's suitcase.
"Where's your suitcase, Emily?"
Obviously not in the
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