"You want to come with me?"

"I better stay here with the body."

"Are you sure you want to do that?" It wasn't like Dick was going anywhere, and guarding a corpse wasn't one of the highlighted activities on Nana's holiday itinerary.

"I'm the Legion a Mary's official representative for visitations at Heavenly Host Funeral Home, so I'm pretty used to hangin' around dead people these days."

I dumped my purchases onto the other end of Dick's bench. After getting directions from Nana, I sprinted down the street toward the cafe. Wally was seated at a table drinking cafe latte. He was sporting what looked like a new green alpine hat to keep the sun out of his eyes. I grabbed him by the arm and urged him to his feet. "Nice hat. You need to come with me. We have a crisis."

"What kind of crisis?"

"You need to come now. Leave some money for the bill."

He slapped some coins onto the table and stumbled behind me as I dragged him into the street. "This had better be good," he complained. "I was only halfway through that cafe latte."

"Dick Rassmuson is dead."

"WHAT?"

"Can you walk a little faster?"

"How do you know he's dead?"

"Because he's not breathing!"

"Shit," he said, doubling his pace. "SHIT!"

"It looks like a heart attack."

"Great. This is just great. We'll never get him out of Germany if he's dead."

"Why not?" I hurried him toward the spa grounds.

"Because it's Germany! They don't like foreigners dying in their country. You wouldn't believe the paperwork. This happened to one of my colleagues a few years ago. An elderly man died, and the authorities kept the whole tour group confined for over a week asking questions, administering polygraph tests. It was a disaster. Triangle Tours lost a lot of money on that one because they had to reimburse everyone for the inconvenience plus pay for their lodging in Germany. If the same thing happens to us, Triangle is out a lot of money again, and I'm probably out a job. Shit."

It seemed this information might have warranted a footnote in the brochure. Triangle Tours strongly suggests you not die while visiting a foreign country, Germany in particular. Of course, there was no guarantee Dick Rassmuson would have heeded the warning, especially if it had been written in fine print.

Nana was sitting on the bench beside Dick when we arrived, shooing away flies with her handbag. I admired her courage for daring to sit that close to him. "I thought if we both sat here sayin' nothin' to each other, people would think we were married and wouldn't pay us no never-mind."

Wally felt for a pulse.

"Well?" I asked.

"Shit. He's dead."

"So now what do we do? Call the police?"

"NO! No police. We gotta get him out of here. We gotta get him back on the bus."

I thought about that for a full millisecond. "ARE YOU CRAZY?"