Tea Is For Terror Read online

  Tom and Joan Sorini are friends of the Pederson’s and have vacationed on Shasta Lake with them several times. This trip sounded so great they decided to come too. Joan has no qualms about leaving her kids with her sister, because she watched her sister’s kids last year. She’s vocal about her joy of getting some time, alone, with Tom. Tom is a video freak and is determined to record the entire trip for his friends and family to experience with them.

  Joe Onerato is a crusty, old Italian who lives alone and spends most of his days playing cards at the Senior Center in North Beach or playing bocce ball in the park. He retired and turned his family business over to his son after his wife died ten years ago. Joe’s son is worried about him. He thinks he’s bored but doesn’t know it and won’t take any suggestions. His son signed him up for the trip as a surprise. Joe didn’t have the energy for the battle that would ensue if he canceled, so he’s going. But he doesn’t want to, and he insisted on his own room. He wasn’t sleeping with strangers.

  Warren Grey went through a very painful divorce and hasn’t seemed interested in developing any social relationships since then. He’s a tall, thin shy man, but his shyness only seems to attract the women. He concentrates on his work, his running schedule and his son. His son usually spends summers with his father but this year he is only coming for a week. This has upset Warren and this trip is his way to start to redirect some of his energy. He realizes with his son growing, he needs to have his own space to do things with his friends. Warren doesn’t want their time together to be a burden to him.

  Betty Brown is thirtyish, attractive and remote. She won’t share her room. Her clothes, style and manner identify her as an up-and-coming executive. She is pleasant but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. She volunteers nothing about herself. However, Fenster knows it won’t take long to solve that mystery; his agents were gathering information even now.

  George and Florence Mohney have been retired about seven years. George was a chemist at a large pharmaceutical company. They spend their summers in Michigan, where they raised their children. Then they spend part of the year visiting their daughter in Montana and the rest of their time in the retirement community near their son and his family in California. Their son and daughter-in-law attended Lucy’s lecture at Gulliver’s and talked their in-laws into joining the group.

  Rosa Morino is Lucy Springer’s assistant. Rosa has only been with Lucy for six months. Dour and silent most of the time, she is apparently known for her efficiency. Her publisher recommended Rosa to Lucy. When Lucy broke her leg, Rosa, like the professional she is, agreed to take Lucy’s place on the tour to verify all the data in her book. Who better? Rosa had done most of the arrangements, and she knew the book, having entered the first draft into the computer. She was taking the laptop with her to make the adjustments needed for prices, addresses and resources.

  Fenster finished with, “Arnold ‘Arnie’ White looks like a computer nerd and he probably is. But his joining the tour at the last minute makes him suspect, and so far we haven’t turned up much on him. However, we’ll know everything about him before long.”

  Fenster paused, having come to the end of the list, racking his brain for any detail he overlooked.

  “So what else is there? Something besides all this got you excited enough to bring me in on Saturday.” Ames was still irritated about missing his tee off time.

  Fenster nodded. “That last transmission they picked up was pretty garbled but there were a few words that got our attention. One was the second reference to this tour.” He gestured toward the brochure. “The other....” He paused, deliberately adding drama. “The other was Guiness.”

  Ames’ face didn’t change but his eyes did, and his ears were getting red, a singular trait of his, indicating his blood pressure was rising.

  “Guiness?” The word exploded from him. “Guiness? Who’s on this? Why didn’t you tell me that first?”

  He stood up abruptly, a look of cunning on his face. “This could be it. We might finally get that bastard. I want to be kept informed, any day, anytime. If one of them burps, it better be in a report to me. Don’t let anyone screw this one up, Fenster.” He slammed his hand on the desk.

  Fenster nodded. “Don’t worry we will be with this group every inch of the way. This will be a close collaboration with our friends here. They want him as badly as we do, perhaps more so. Actually, if they hadn’t identified that tour as American we’d still be in the dark. If there is anything to this we’re going to get him,” he growled with determination. Then at Ames’ nod of dismissal he headed for the door, glad to be through with this part of it, already thinking about the problem of keeping an entire tour group under surveillance.

  * * *

  Claire let herself out into the hall, still a little groggy from sleep but anxious to assuage her hunger with a whopping English style breakfast. She headed down the corridor and through the door to the next hall, thinking about that same old nightmare. Fortunately the alarm rescued her before she got to the part where she usually started screaming. For that she was grateful. Why was it that the familiarity of the dream never reduced its terror?

  Then when she dragged herself out of bed she confronted a real nightmare in the bathroom mirror. The wrinkles at the corner of her eyes had somehow multiplied overnight and that slight line across her brow was now definitely a crease. She tried to blame the sallow color of her skin on the low wattage light bulb, but she couldn’t quite convince herself of it.

  Claire came up short, facing the end of the corridor. She looked around, sure she hadn’t been this way before, not clear on how she got here. This hotel was extremely confusing. The floors didn’t seem to be on the same level in each section and each section was connected to the others by doors, steps and odd corridors.

  She chose the door directly in front of her and was relieved to see it contained a set of stairs. She wasn’t always sure she was headed in the right direction, but the one thing she knew was she needed to go down to reach the dining room. She stepped out onto the landing. The impact took her breath away even as the momentum spun her around. Then unable to stop herself she was down, fortunately partially cushioned by some of the bags that seemed to be flying everywhere.

  She lay there a moment, gasping for air, then tried to lever herself up on her elbow.

  The groan came from beneath her and she was suddenly aware that besides the sharp corners of luggage there seemed to be a person under her that her elbow was digging into.

  “Watch it!” The sharp directive was followed by a string of murmured comments of which Claire caught only a few words, oaf, bloody cow and worse.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. Just a minute and let me get up.” She looked for a handhold and finally latched onto one of the supports, pulling her off the heap but pushing another of the cases down the stairs. She was acutely aware that her knee apparently had caused some damage as she rose to her feet, at least judging by the moan that came from the man she could now see under what was left of the luggage.

  She bent over him, offering her hand. “Are you hurt? Can I help you up?”

  He glared at her. “Not bloody likely. You’ve done enough damage.”

  She withdrew her hand, affronted. He was very rude. And he had run into her. He knocked her down and so far he hadn’t even said he was sorry or asked if she was hurt.

  She drew herself up and looked at him. He was not young, with sandy hair, probably from going gray. His skin was weathered as if he was outdoors a lot. He looked fit, wiry even or maybe she would describe him as whippy, but that was because of his attitude. When he finally stood up she saw he was only a few inches taller than her average height, so for a man that wasn’t very tall. All and all, she wasn’t impressed, especially with his manners.

  “Well, I can at least help you gather up the luggage.” She looked around, hoping it was packed well or there would be some breakage, especially in the case that was halfway down the stairs.

  “No thank you! I think
it would be best if you took yourself out of the service stairwell and off to wherever it is that you belong.” The sarcasm dripped heavily from his words.

  Claire’s cheeks burned with anger. “I would be happy to do that if I knew how to get there.” Her voice was haughty now. After all, she only wanted her breakfast.

  He opened the door and pointed to another door along the corridor. Claire left feeling very much like a chastised child. She was still fuming, testing for bruises that were sure to pop up from her encounter, as she entered the dining room.

  “Claire, good morning.” Teri, the sister with the strawberry hair, moved her oversized purse out of the way inviting Claire to sit beside her.

  Shar, the blonde was bubbling, “Wasn’t that a great play? That theatre is so picturesque. And somehow a Noel Coward play was so..., well, so English.”

  “It was all right, if you like old English movies. Frankly I liked that place we went afterwards.” George Mohney looked like a person who loved his beer.

  Claire gave the waitress her order and then Vern, who just sat down, ordered for both he and Mike.

  “Where is Mike this morning?” Teri asked. “Oh, there he is. Mike. Mike!” She waved at him as he paused at the door.

  Mike was very popular with the other members of the tour. His outrageous personality made them all laugh.

  “I ordered for you.”

  Mike nodded as he sat down between Vern and Florence Mohney, unfolding his napkin. “I was talking to Joe.”

  “Joe? He never talks.” George looked up amazed. “Just grouches.”

  Mike laughed. “Not so grouchy this morning. He’d been out with Mrs. Maus.” He looked about the table, a glint in his eye. “I think that the grouch’s days are numbered.” He paused to build suspense. “I think Mrs. Maus will straighten out our Joe before we get home. Anybody want to bet with me?”

  Mrs. Maus, no one even attempted to call her Maureen, was up and out for a brisk walk each morning. Several others followed her lead, cramming their days with more activities than Claire thought was possible.

  Teri and Shar nodded.

  “He did come with us this morning, but he complained most of the way,” Teri reported.

  “Teri, he wasn’t so bad. He’s probably just lonely.” Shar gently reproached her sister. Then trying to explain further, “He was so attached to his wife, he’s just lost without her.”

  Teri didn’t agree. “He’s been a widower for ten years. He’s just a grouch and everyone has let him be one. But not Mrs. Maus. You wait. She’ll get him to break that habit.”

  The waitress returned with tea and coffee, then again with the breakfast. Claire warily contemplated the boiled egg perching in an hourglass shaped cup.

  “Can I help?” Vern reached over and deftly sliced off the top with his knife. “There. Put a little salt and pepper in there and use this little spoon to just eat right out of the shell.”

  “How did you do that? I finally ended up peeling mine,” Shar said, astonished.

  “You should have ordered the traditional breakfast like we did,” George said.

  But Shar just shook her head. “It was fried everything, including the bread and some revolting black thing called blood sausage. Ugh, no, thanks! But next time I’ll wait for Vern to crack open my soft-boiled eggs.”

  “We had an English woman as a housekeeper when I was growing up. And she made wonderful soft-boiled eggs. Perfect. So, of course, we all had to learn how to eat them properly.” Vern smiled. “I was very fond of her. I used to follow her around like a puppy. My parents were so busy all the time but she always had time for me.”

  He glanced at Claire, who had just finished her egg. “I think you’ll find another under the bottom of your cup.”

  Claire retrieved the second egg and attempted to slice off the top as neatly as Vern had done the first. She laughed with the rest as she fished out the bits of shell before dipping her spoon in to pierce the yolk.

  The flash caught her with the spoon full of egg on its way to her mouth, startling her enough to cause the spoon, egg and all, to end up her nose. She grabbed her napkin dabbing blindly, blinking furiously, trying to clear the spots from her vision.

  “Liz, don’t do that!” Vern snapped. “Really, show a little consideration by warning us before you take a picture. It would be nice to give us a chance to compose ourselves or even smile.”

  “But I don’t want posed pictures. I want the pictures to be spontaneous. It’s much better to have them au naturale. You’ll see when I get them developed.

  “Besides, I’m doing this for Lucy. She might want to use some to promote her book,” Liz tossed out righteously as she moved on in search of her next target.

  “We need Mrs. Maus to adopt her,” Mike muttered. The others added comments and complaints.

  Claire just wasn’t in the mood for Liz this morning, either in person or as a subject of conversation. So instead she concentrated on eating while the conversation flowed around her. Finally, her breakfast finished and her vision cleared, she pushed back from the table. “Well, I’d better move if I’m going to be ready for our prompt departure.”

  “The bus is here. I saw them stowing some of the bags,” George said checking his watch and nodding at his wife.

  “Coach,” reminded Shar. “Remember Emma said they call them coaches,” she explained as she and Teri prepared to leave the table.

  CHAPTER

  FOUR

  Claire thought it ironic that she actually found her way back to her room through the jumble of corridors without a hitch. Somehow that success restored her confidence. After all, she was the leader and she felt she could cope with anything. So after gathering up her odds and ends, she paused only long enough to examine her face for traces of egg yolk. This time, studying the mirror, she was kinder to herself. It still surprised her that while she was always considered rather plain she had somehow grown into her looks so that now, middle-aged, she was considered attractive. Not beautiful, of course, as she studied her face critically, but even she admitted that she looked interesting. The wrinkles were still there. That was a blow because she always considered her fine textured skin to be her best feature and now it was going. But her hair was okay. The strands of gray blended with the light brown and looked like she had an expensive highlight job, which her expensive cut showed to its best advantage. And her figure was good; she was lean, strong and had curves in the right places. And she couldn’t complain that she didn’t look like those middle-aged movie stars, because she had never resembled them when she was young and she had no expectations of looking like them now. After all she was in her descending years; she had turned forty last year. So what could she expect? She was what she was.

  She slipped her backpack over her shoulder and picked up her tote bag, taking one last look around to make sure she had everything. She found her way downstairs without further mishap wondering how she had gotten so confused every time before. She saw that Rosa was checking the final bills with the hotel manager so she proceeded to the bus to confirm today’s schedule with Emma, their Kingdom Coach Tour representative.

  “Good morning Claire.” Mrs. Maus was already settled halfway down the aisle of the huge bus. “Look how much room we have. Harold had to bring a bigger bus, the one we used before was only for city tours. This one has a galley and restroom, just like the airplane. Isn’t this grand?”

  Claire nodded agreement as she looked around. The bus seemed way too big for their group, but Emma had told her that the addition of Arnie to their group had caused the tour company to assign them a bigger coach. The company was very strict about adhering to the rules about the maximum number of passengers allowed on each vehicle.

  She apologized. It was the result of her inexperience. She hadn’t even thought about the local transportation when she agreed to let Arnie come. She had been so pleased Warren was willing to share a room with Arnie so they didn’t have to book another room at every stop. She just assumed that was
all that mattered.

  “Have you seen Emma this morning?” she asked Mrs. Maus, looking around for their guide.

  “Oh, didn’t you know? Emma isn’t with us. Her mother was taken sick, suddenly, so of course she had to go home.”

  Claire’s stomach clenched with dismay as she realized how much she was relying on Emma. “Oh, no, not another casualty?”

  “Don’t worry, dear.” Mrs. Maus said calmly. “They sent us the most delightful young man. His name is Jack and he’s very good. I can tell already.”

  Claire smiled uneasily, not convinced. She turned to hurry back down the aisle only to crash, nose to nose with the same sandy-haired, whippy man from the stairwell, who had apparently come up the aisle behind her.

  Claire, blinking rapidly to clear the bright lights flashing in the momentary blackness, gently touched her nose to make sure it wasn’t broken.

  “Oh, my dear, are you all right? Do you need to sit down? Can I get you a wet cloth?” Mrs. Maus was very concerned.

  Claire shook her head, managing a tight smile while she attempted to regain her composure.

  Mrs. Maus did the honors. “Claire, this is Jack. Jack, here’s Claire Gulliver. She’s in charge of our tour, as I’m sure you already know from Emma.” Mrs. Maus graciously introduced them.

  “Of Kingdom Coach Tours.” He backed up a step, distorting his face to stretch his nose, his hand creeping up to touch it tentatively. “We really need to stop meeting this way, Luv.”

  Claire was annoyed. Actually she was very close to angry. She didn’t like the way he acted, as if he was laughing at her. And she didn’t like that twice in one morning they had collided. And her nose hurt. Why was he always where he shouldn’t be?