"Bad news?" I asked.

"Your Mr. Simon. It appears he might have died from something other than a severe asthma attack."

I remembered what Jane Hanson had said. "You mean, the stress of wanting to be the perfect escort really did kill him?" I felt a trill of alarm. I was only twenty-nine. I had a lot more living to do. Maybe I should rethink this escort thing.

"Something more deliberate than stress killed him, Miss Andrew. There are indications that your Mr. Simon may have been murdered."

Chapter 5

"Murdered?" Sure, Andy had been a lowlife. He'd thought of no one but himself, hurt countless women, and ruined a lot of lives. But if every man who acted like that was murdered, we'd be a planet of Amazon women. "How could he be murdered? He's from Iowa. Iowans aren't murdered. Iowans die from overdosing on bacon, or from being crushed in customer stampedes when Fareway runs a special on Iowa chops."

"I can't give you details, but I will tell you that his death appears more suspicious now than it did at five o'clock this morning."

"You think someone on the tour killed him?"

"In a majority of homicides, the victim and his killer are usually acquainted. We have one possible lead to follow, but should that turn out to be a dead end, do you know anyone on the tour who would have a motive to kill him?"

He had me there. I was acquainted with many of the seniors in the group, but if one of them despised Andy enough to kill him, I didn't know who it would be. I shook my head.

"When we have the results back from serology, we'll know more. Until then I can only caution you to watch yourself, Miss Andrew."

"Watch myself?" I felt my stomach drop to my knees.

"Am I in danger?"

"What you assumed to be the sounds of sexual acrobatics last night in Mr. Simon's room may well have been the sounds of Mr. Simon being murdered. If the perpetrator thinks you heard something that could implicate him..."

He left the sentence unfinished, but his expression spoke volumes. Unh-oh. This wasn't good.

"I'd appreciate your keeping this information to yourself until our findings are more conclusive, Miss Andrew. There's no sense causing panic among the people in your tour group."

What about causing panic in me? I was going to be constantly looking over my shoulder now, expecting some friendly acquaintance to stick a knitting needle through my ear. "You think the killer might strike again?"

"Until we discover the motive for the murder, we've no way of knowing that. But as the group's escort, you should be alerted to the possibility that someone on your tour could be capable of murder."

I felt honored to be taken into his confidence, but the honor did nothing to calm my frazzled nerves. How could I keep this to myself? "Can I tell my grandmother about this? I promise she won't tell anyone. Telling a secret to Nana is the same as stashing gold in Fort Knox and throwing away the key. I think she should know. After all, if the killer suspects I heard something, he might think Nana heard something, too."