"What happened to you?" she asked, staring at my hair.

"Midmorning dip in the river. I don't recommend it as a scheduled activity."

"I'm so glad you're here," she said, taking my hand for comfort. "Everyone is out on that tour this morning, so I'm all alone. I don't know what to do with myself."

I noticed she'd done something with herself. Her fingernails were no longer the color of Pepto-Bismol. They were black as licorice Jelly Bellies. "Nice color," I said. "I sometimes do black on Halloween."

She held out one hand so we could both admire it. "It's called Galactica. It's part of the Millennium collection. I did it out of respect for Andy."

"Did you name this one?"

Shirley shook her head. "Revlon assigned someone else to do the Millennium collection. I don't know much about outer space. I don't even know where the Milky Way is."

No surprise there.

She sighed. "What am I supposed to tell people about last night, Emily? I'm so embarrassed. Andy invited me to the hotel lounge after dinner, and while he was at the bar ordering our drinks, some old geezer who looked like Yasser Arafat hit on me."

Unh-oh. The Italian pervert strikes again.

"I was very polite and told the guy I was with someone else; but his English was pretty minimal, so I don't know if he understood me. He just stood there jabbering at me, refusing to leave. Then Andy came back with our drinks and told the guy to leave, but he still refused, so they had words, Andy motioned for the bartender, and the old guy got kicked out on his ear. And he wasn't happy about it, Emily. You should have seen the evil look he gave us on his way out. It gave me the willies. I was so nervous after that, Andy suggested we retire to someplace more private, so we went up to his room and I helped him practice lines for a play he's going to audition for."

"Did you tell the police about the man in the lounge?"

"I sure did. And I gave them a really good description, right down to his trench coat and knobby knees."

Was this the lead Inspector Miceli had mentioned? "His name is Nunzio."

Shirley gasped. "How do you know that? Did he hit on you, too?"

"He hit on my grandmother."

Shirley nodded as if this behavior were perfectly normal. "He must have a thing for older women. I better call the police and give them his name. Anyway, Emily, Andy was very gentlemanly when we were in his room. Nothing happened. Honest. He didn't do a thing wrong except flub a few of his lines."

"How was his delivery?"

"Pretty stiff, but I didn't want to hurt his ego, so I didn't tell him. When I was about to leave, he told me if I felt like coming back anytime during the night, he'd leave his door unlocked as an open invitation. All I'd have to do is walk in."