Sibylline Greetings (Book 2, the LiteraTours Cozy Mystery Series)

Chapter 6 - Lemons

From the kitchen wafted the heavenly aroma of lemon chicken. Nanoparticles of olive oil, rosemary and roasting bird rose from the oven, shook hands and found their way into the living room. From there, they wafted into Gary's nose. It twitched once in response, but his mind was not on food. A shame really, Lorna was an excellent cook. Aline—and Gary—suffered the consequences. But instead of squeezing herself into waist-nipping jeans, Lorna's partner wore her surplus kilos with a smile and flashed them at the world in a riot of patterns and daring colours.

Gary blinked at the swirls in puce and lime that seemed to dance on her tunic. He shook himself and swiped at his smartphone again. Still no smoke signals from Rome. No messages from Ike, no updates from Brigitte.

Crap!

He leaned his head against the backrest of the sofa and addressed the ceiling. "That's trademark Ike. Fires off an enigmatic statement and with a bang drops from the radar."

Above him, cobwebs clung to the chandelier, a wedding present from the in-laws neither Emma nor he had dared to hide in the attic.

Gary sighed and faced Aline again, sitting in the middle of the sofa, a purring cat at her side. She looked up from the magazine she was leafing through. "There might well be a reason. Last time she had one."

"That's what I fear. What does Ike mean by 'a dead body'? Did they find one? Did the whole tour stumble over it? Or only Ike? She makes for a great corpse spotter that woman. Or has somebody dropped dead? Questions galore, and I haven't got an answer. That Brigitte doesn't either makes me worried. Very worried."

Aline put her magazine aside and folded hands that seemed oddly small when compared to her body. "You worry too much. Agreed—after that spot of bother in Germany bodies is not what we need. But I'm sure she would have told us if something was really off—"

Aline was interrupted by a scream coming from Gary's kitchen.

"Lorna?" Gary pushed himself out of his ratty wing chair and reached for his crutches.

Aline had already shot from the sofa and disappeared.

Gary followed her into the kitchen where he found the two ladies staring at the small telly Emma had insisted on keeping on top of the Welsh dresser. Cookery shows inspired her, she claimed.

Lorna swung around, wielding a dripping spoon. "Gary, you won't believe this."

"Won't believe what?" He pushed past her, craned his neck at the screen and beheld—a commercial for air freshener. Not a bad idea but not something to get into a tizzy about.

Lorna must have read his expression correctly and pointed her spoon at the screen. Something viscous and glistening flew off and landed on the plate rack with a splat.

"Oops, sorry. I'll clean up later. You're too late. Rome was in the news."

Despite the savoury smells filling the kitchen Gary suddenly felt nauseous. "Yes?"

"The footage showed Ike and two men. The anchorwoman called them archaeologists."

Hope dawned. "The body is historical?"

"One of them," Lorna said with ghoulish satisfaction. "The other one is modern. A tourist. Not one of ours, apparently. They mentioned an outfit called Serious Study Tours."

Gary groaned. "That's the group I told you about. The one whose transport Ike commandeered because of the coach trouble."

"Dearie me. Let's hope somebody didn't get their victims mixed up. Did Ike find the body? Bodies, I mean," Aline asked.