Page 110 of Whispers at Dusk
There was a young couple near them, both smiling, holding hands now and then, sharing their food, either new lovers or old who were very much in love! They were speaking French, she thought, overhearing a bit of the conversation.
She didn’t believe that the killer they were seeking was French.
He was American or British.
Another couple intrigued her at first; they were joined by an older couple, and it appeared that they were young newlyweds out with the wife’s parents.
“Fish and chips. Better here than at home,” Mason said. “Or, maybe I just think that they’re better because we are in jolly old England.”
“No. Fish and chips are better here,” Edmund said lightly. “Hey, no insult. Creole cooking is it in Louisiana, and when not in Cuba, Cuban coffee is best in Miami.”
“Ah, we all lay claim to our culinary delights,” Della murmured. They were having dinner. There was no guarantee that anything was going to happen here tonight.
Here—or anywhere.
“The biggest problem we have is that, of course, everyone assumed that there was just one killer—that’s why they had me and our Interpol liaison Bisset and Jeanne Lapierre from France joining you two and Detective Wilhelm in Norway. We don’t have a list of possible suspects, though tomorrow, we’ll go back through the files. Within them now, we may just find those we cleared at the time because Dante was here and working and they could twist the truth...all the witnesses had alibis that seemed truthful, and then when the murders started in Norway, well...”
Della was half listening and half watching people as they came and went. A group moved and she noticed one of the courtyard tables closest to the sidewalk. A pretty blonde sat there, laughing as she chatted with a young man who appeared to be in his early thirties. He had slightly shaggy light brown hair and an easy smile. She wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t think that they’d known one another forever—they had the look of two young people flirting and enjoying the get-to-know-you part of a relationship.
And they most likely were just a young couple getting to know one another.
“Excuse me!” she murmured.
She stood and pretended to head out and look down the sidewalk as if she were trying to see if a friend might be arriving.
But as she passed by the table, she heard their conversation.
The girl spoke with an American accent; she probably hailed from somewhere in the Midwest.
The man spoke with an English accent, as if he’d been born and bred in London.
“Well, we could meet up with your friends, or...” the young man said.
The blonde giggled and ran her fingers over the back of his hand. “My friends are genuinely nice, and I think that you would enjoy them. Then again...how quickly we could move, so much we could see and do if we were alone!”
Della wasn’t sure why, but alarms rang loudly in her head. She wasn’t sure that she thought anything out, she just hurried back to the table and picked up her pint of ale.
She meant to explain, but just as she picked up the glass, she saw the couple rising. She hurried back, weaving through tables, anxious to reach them before they could leave the restaurant.
She pretended to look elsewhere and slammed into the young woman, making sure that her ale flew into the air...and fell due to the force of gravity, soaking the pretty young blonde.
“Oh! I am so sorry!” Della cried. “I am truly sorry, I’ve ruined your night, oh...!”
The man stared at her for a split second. “I’ll go get something,” he said quickly, stepping around her and heading for the bar in the center of the courtyard.
By then, Edmund and Mason had come up and Edmund quickly did the speaking. “Hello, miss, we are so sorry, but forgive me—” he paused to flash his badge “—do you know the gentleman you were with, or did you just meet?”
“Uh,” she said, frowning, staring at the badge. “I—uh—did I do something wrong? If so, I’m deeply sorry, I’m loving being here, this trip has been a dream—”
“You haven’t done anything wrong,” Mason quickly assured her. “We’re just—”
He broke off. He had twisted around to watch for her companion. “He’s not getting a bar rag—he’s gone,” he said. “I’m going after him.”
“Oh, my God, what did he do?” the young woman whispered.
“Maybe nothing, maybe nothing at all!” Della said quickly. “But we’re advising young women against being alone with men they’ve just met. There have been unusual murders in the last year and—”
“They caught the guy! It’s all over the news everywhere. They caught the Vampire King!” the girl said.
