The two officers leaned over the sill and shined their flashlights into the courtyard. I felt my stomach churn at the grisly sight that would greet them on the pavement below. "I need to sit down," I choked.

"Phone an ambulance," one of the officers called out.

"An ambulance?" said Etienne. "Not the coroner?"

"Not for this one, Inspector. She landed in the Dumpster."

Chapter 14

"Last call for Swissair flight 328 with nonstop service to Chicago. All ticketed passengers should now be onboard. Last call, please, for Swissair flight 328."

"Are you sure you can't stay a few more days?" Etienne nuzzled the lobe of my ear. "A few more years?"

I was so tired from lack of sleep, I was afraid if I closed my eyes, I'd miss my plane. Between filing my statements at the police station and rushing back to the hotel to pack, I hadn't even had time for a catnap. I slid my arm around Etienne's waist and held him close, liking the way his body fit against mine. "I would give anything to stay. But I can't. I'm the escort."

"You could say you had to stay in Lucerne to make sure we treated Ms. Hanson properly."

"How long do you think she'll be in the hospital?"

"They performed surgery this morning with no complications. It could take her a while to figure out how to walk on two broken legs though. The doctor said she'll be good as new when she heals, but he wouldn't recommend jumping off the third floor of a building again anytime soon."

"What will happen next with her?"

"I'm not sure, darling."

I loved the way he called me "darling." It was such a German/French/Italian thing to do.

"We'll be working in close cooperation with American authorities on her case. She killed three people, Emily, so it's no small matter. I can't predict the outcome, but you can be sure we'll take into account her mental health at the time of the crimes. I seriously doubt she'll be walking the streets of Windsor City, Iowa, anytime soon, however."

"You could walk the streets of Windsor City," I invited seductively. "You could come visit me. My apartment's pretty small, but I have a really big bed."

He growled in my ear, his breath warm, his lips soft. "If your goal is to frustrate me with images of you lying in bed, wearing a smile and nothing else, you've succeeded. My sister says Chicago is lovely at Christmas. Perhaps I should take her up on her invitation."

"Really? You're not just pulling my leg?"

"I would love to pull your leg, but I fear I wouldn't stop there. And while we're on the subject of legs, we picked up your Mr. Nunzio last night in the lounge of the Hotel Alpha pro Filia."

Mr. Nunzio. I'd forgotten all about him. "Was he hitting on another woman?"

"I suppose you could call it that. Mr. Nunzio is a hair-stylist who specializes in hair care for the over-fifty set, so he drums up business by haunting the lounges of all the local hotels, giving his pitch in rather broken pidgin English/Italian to potential customers."