Murder on the Orient Espresso(7)

We were under the wide branches now, and I squinted up, trying to differentiate the leaves. ‘So you’re saying there’s another tree in there?’

‘Most likely just a hollow core where it once was. A banyan this old probably strangled the poor host tree long ago.’

‘So the “guest” repays the host by smothering it to death and then taking its place like the poor host was never there in the first place.’ I stepped back. ‘Nice.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Pavlik said, slipping his arm around my waist. ‘I’ll protect you from the mean old—’

‘Excuse me,’ a voice called. ‘Can we please get everybody on the bus?’

Zoe Scarlett was standing under the hotel’s marquis with a clipboard. She was showing even more cleavage than earlier, which I judged to be her idea of transitioning the look from daytime to nighttime.

‘Thank God I can depend on you at least, Jacob.’ Her gaze passed right over me to Pavlik in his black dress shirt, open at the neck, and black pants. ‘Perfect.’

‘I was afraid it telegraphed bad guy,’ Pavlik said, flashing her a smile.

‘Stiff bad guy,’ I reminded him. Pavlik’s smile grew broader.

Zoe swiveled to survey the floral sundress I’d chosen for its vintage feel. Besides, it was quick. Not a small consideration since Pavlik, bless him, was not. ‘Megan, you’re going to freeze in that.’

‘It’s “Maggy,”’ I corrected. ‘And as for freezing, the sun is down and the temperature still has to be close to eighty degrees.’ I’d heard Floridians’ bodily thermostats were set a bit differently, but Zoe’s prediction was borderline crazy.

‘Only for now.’ Missy Hudson had come up behind us. ‘A cold front is coming through tonight bringing storms, wouldn’t you know it? An unfortunate last hurrah for our hurricane season.’

‘Hurricane season?’ I repeated, thinking of Flagler’s ill-fated railroad.

Missy waved her hand. ‘Hurricane season, wet season, rainy season – it’s all pretty much the same. May through to October, typically, though, Mother Nature doesn’t always observe the calendar. November first, and we’ll be lucky to reach seventy-five tomorrow.’

Brr, seventy-five degrees Fahrenheit. Fifty-five was considered balmy in Brookhills this time of year.

‘Besides, it will undoubtedly be cold on the train. Everything in South Florida is way over air-conditioned.’ Missy was pawing through a bag of clothing. She pulled out a black shawl. ‘Here, take this.’

‘Thanks,’ I said, taking the lacy wrap, though I doubted the train could be air-conditioned to the point that this Wisconsinite would feel a chill. ‘But won’t you need it?’

‘Oh, not to worry – I have my fur.’ She struck a pose. ‘Can you guess who I am?’

Not surprisingly, Missy had gotten into the spirit of her event and the role she was to play. A wide-brimmed hat sat on carefully finger-waved hair and a white fur coat partially covered a long silver dress that pulled a bit over surprisingly voluptuous hips before stopping just short of her glittery silver shoes.

‘Well, I …’

‘Mrs Hubbard,’ Missy continued, sparing me the need to answer. ‘Though I have to admit, I opted for Lauren Bacall’s version from the movie rather than the plainer “American Lady” in the book. Such fun to get really dressed up, don’t you think?’

‘Well, you do look wonderf—’

I was interrupted by a wolf whistle as two men in suits – one double-breasted navy pinstripe, the other cream-colored – passed by to board the bus. ‘Looking good, Missy,’ Pinstripe called.

‘Oh, thank you,’ she nearly squealed in delight, and then lowered her voice to address me. ‘When I saw this at Sally’s – that’s what my friends call the Salvation Army store here – I knew it would be perfect.’

The girl was glowing. I had a feeling Missy Hudson didn’t get the opportunity to be the center of attention very often.

‘Missy?’ Zoe’s voice. ‘Did you find Larry and Rosemary?’

Missy nodded toward the bus standing ready at the curb, its headlights glowing in the dark. ‘Laurence is already onboard, Zoe. But Rosemary isn’t feeling well. She suffers from motion sickness and is afraid the bus—’

Zoe interrupted. ‘Tell the diva she can lie down in the sleeping car once she plays her part. But, until then, Rosemary needs to be on that train and mingling with our paying customers.’

‘Oh, she will,’ Missy said quickly. ‘But I … well, I told her that if she prefers, I’d drive her to the station.’