"Forgive me, Emily. It wasn't my intent to make you blush. Swiss women never blush."

"They never blush. They never kid. They never smile."

He laughed aloud at that, a wonderfully soothing sound to my ears. I couldn't remember Zorro ever laughing with so much animation. "You're quite right. Perhaps that's why I prefer American women. You're much more given to laughter than the Swiss. And you do smile more." He zeroed in on my mouth. "You smile a great deal more."

Okay. MAJOR erotic thoughts going on here. I didn't want to get ahead of myself, but I wondered if that confident look in his eye meant he was even more skilled with his blade than Zorro. Hmm. One could hope.

"This is going to be a long day for me," he said. "I'm not even sure I'll have time to eat dinner, but if you'd be willing, I'd like to take you out for a drink later on this evening at the Hotel Chateau Gutsch. It's a wonderfully romantic spot with a belvedere that affords a superb view of the city at night. If the fog lifts, you might even be able to see it; although, I find there's something incredibly intimate about the fog. The way it envelops your body. Caresses your face. Dampens your skin. It's almost like--" He stopped short, seeming to remember himself. "If I planned to pick you up at nine, would you be free to accompany me?"

"Yes." I wanted to keep things short and to the point to avoid any cultural miscommunication between us.

"Yes? That's splendid. I hope you won't be disappointed."

If he was planning to demonstrate his prowess with his sword, I didn't see any possible way I could be disappointed. From where I was sitting, even the sheath looked pretty spectacular.

"And now for the more tedious part of our interview. You know most of the people in your tour group, Emily. You've had a chance to observe them since Mr. Simon's death. Is there anything you can tell me that might shed some light on who might have wanted both Mr. Simon and Ms. Angowski dead?"

I guessed it was time for me to fess up about all the theories I'd formed. "How much time do you have?"

I ticked each item off on my fingers. Helen Teig's suicidal niece. Louise Simon's affair with another man and her rumored divorce from Andy. Lucille Rassmuson's affair with Andy. Dick Rassmuson's herbal supplements to keep him potent and his wife interested. Dick Stolee's run-in with Shirley Angowski on Mount Pilatus. The dimethyl sulfate connection to everyone on the tour. When I finished, he ran his knuckles along the curve of his jaw and gave me a long look.

"In other words, there's circumstantial evidence to support everyone's guilt."

I shrugged. "That's my guess."

"Lovely. And, Emily?"

"Yes?"

"Nice sweatshirt."

After breakfast I hurried back to the room to scrub the rest of the ink off my hands, all the while trying to ignore a pain that had started to throb around my temporary crown. It wasn't too bad though. I could live with it. We were scheduled to take a boat tour of Lake Lucerne at eleven, so I had a little time to myself before I headed down to the lobby. Probably just enough time to throw Nana's things back into the suitcase before we moved again.