"With the way things've been goin', someone might do it for you."

I moaned. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint everyone, but they can march right back here and gather up their purchases because I can not ship anything home for anyone." I gave my head an emphatic nod, then paused. "Or would it be better if I found out what room everyone is in and delivered their packages to them myself? Kind of a personal touch."

"Are you thirsty, dear? I bought lemonade while I was out. I'll pour you some."

I hung up my raincoat and kicked off my shoes while Nana disappeared into the bathroom. When she reappeared, she handed me a glass of pink lemonade. "Awful about that poor Angowski woman. Inspector Miceli asked me if I could account for my whereabouts this mornin', so I was real glad I was with Bernice most of the time, except when she had to wait in that long line to use the potty and I had to buy film. It's a real shame people keep dyin'. Our Swiss Triangle Tour seems to be turnin' into the Bermuda Triangle Tour. Maybe Shirley was the last victim, but you know what they say. Death always comes in threes."

Cheery thought. "Did Helen Teig and Dick Rassmuson have alibis?"

"I haven't heard, but I do know that Jane and the Dicks and their wives were all together most a the morning. I'm not sure what any of 'em would have against that Angowski woman though. They didn't even know her. Where's the motive?"

The only thing that popped into my head was that if Andy hadn't died, Shirley would have become his lover. Had a jealous ex-lover of Andy's punished her for making the attempt? Was the finger now pointing at Lucille Rassmuson?

I chugged some lemonade, frowning when my chin and neck grew suddenly wet.

"Did the dentist give you Novocain?" Nana asked.

I held my hand under my chin to catch the liquid that was dribbling down my face.

"Maybe you should hold off on the lemonade 'til you get feelin' back in your lips."

I handed her the glass and ran into the bathroom to wipe my face. The phone rang. Nana answered. I looked at myself in the mirror. "YEOW!" I had raccoon eyes from crying. My lipstick was smeared across my cheeks. My foundation was streaked with iridescent brown patches that had formerly been eyeliner and shadow. I looked like something from the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

"You don't say," I heard Nana say to the person on the phone. "Is that right?"

I grabbed the soap and scrubbed my face. I felt like a criminal having to wash away the beautiful face Shirley Angowski had created for me. She'd been such an artist. A modern-day da Vinci. But where da Vinci's work had lasted for centuries, Shirley's had only lasted the morning. I guess that was the downside of working with water-based products.

"I see," said Nana. "You bet. Thank you."