"That's the spirit, dear. I didn't think Bernice's idea was such a good one in the first place. Was there a problem with the coffin?"

"Big problem. There is no coffin."

"No coffin? Oh, dear. How're we s'posed to get him home without one?" She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "Is Wally behind this? I don't mind tellin' you, Emily, I hope we don't have to go through that business with the hat and sunglasses again. It might a worked with Dick, but Andy's been dead a few days. We'll never get him past the agent checkin' photo IDs at the airport."

I gathered my sacks into my arms and headed for the door. "No disguises this time." I nodded toward the pewter urn on the desk. "Say hello to Andy."

"Well, would you look at that," said Nana. "They cremated him. Bernice is not gonna be happy about this."

"They did what to him?" Bernice complained ten minutes later.

"Cremated him," I replied. "He's in a little urn about this big." I indicated the general dimensions. "You'll probably have to call the front desk to inquire about other shipping arrangements."

The elevator was overcrowded and headed in the wrong direction, so I decided to take the stairs back to the room. As I sprinted up the staircase, I moved away from the handrail to avoid colliding with a platinum-haired woman who was struggling with a huge Bucherer sack. No doubt another traveler looking to have her cuckoo clocks shipped. I eyed her as we passed, wincing at the thick layers of poorly applied makeup that masked her face. Her rouge and eye shadow highlighted all the wrong bones. Her lipstick appeared dry and flaky, as if she'd forgotten to use conditioner. Her feet looked really elegant in a pair of strappy black velvet heels like the ones I'd bought yesterday, but she was wearing them with a dark navy coatdress, ugh, which illustrated a stunning truth about women and fashion: any female with halfway decent taste could pick out stylish separates, but knowing how to coordinate them was a gift many women lacked. Including this one. Poor thing.

I reached the top of the stairs feeling gloomier than ever about the end of what could have turned into the perfect holiday. I'd have to phone Etienne to tell him about our change of plans, but since he wasn't at the station this evening, I probably wouldn't even get a chance to talk to him in person. I'd have to leave a message on his voice mail, or with a stranger who might not even speak English. The situation was so depressing, my head started to ache as badly as my tooth.

"Wally just called," Nana informed me back at the room. "Looks like he might be able to fit all of us on the plane tomorrow, so we need to pack tonight." But she didn't seem quite herself. Her eyes looked terribly sad, as if she'd just lost her best friend.