I regarded her sternly. “That’s why you’re pestering the other guests? You’re trying to sign up more friends than Bernice on Facebook?”
She nodded contritely. “Yup.”
I gave her confession a moment’s thought. “I like it! So how are you doing so far?”
She snapped back into action like a brand new rubber band. “We got a lot a catchin’ up to do, but we been gainin’ on her.” She quickly consulted her screen. “I got forty-eight friends so far. Tilly’s got fifty-two. George has thirty-five.”
“And how many does Bernice have?”
She swept her forefinger across her screen. “Six hundred eighty.”
“WHAT?”
“Ain’t that somethin’? Bernice don’t got no friends except me, and sometimes even I’m on the fence, so how’d she come up with six hundred?” Her phone chimed. “Oh, boy. Incomin’ text message.” She read the screen. “It’s from Margi. She says everyone’s starvin’, so we’re gonna get some dessert. You wanna join us, dear?”
Even though I hadn’t gotten beyond the Chinese vegetable soup course, I wasn’t ready to face any more food this evening, not with Ricky Hennessy’s command performance still so fresh in my mind. “I’m looking forward to a long soak in a hot bath, and then I’m going to hit the sack.” I looked beyond the lobby proper to the French doors of the dining room. “Is the hotel dining room open for dessert?”
“Just a sec.” She typed my question and sent it off, then stayed focused on the screen as she waited patiently for a reply. “Margi’s good about gettin’ right back to me.”
“Where is she?”
“Right behind you.”
I turned around to find Margi standing by the revolving door, less than ten feet away, typing a message into her phone.
“She says the dinin’ room’s closed, so we gotta go someplace else.” Nana’s phone chimed again. “We’re s’posed to meet by the front door in two minutes.”
I glanced around the room. “That shouldn’t be too hard, considering you’re all standing within ten feet of the door already.”
“It’s nice to have a little cushion, dear. Takes some of the pressure off.”
As I ushered Nana toward the front entrance, Jackie pushed her way through the revolving door and swooped into the lobby like a rock star in search of an entourage, heels clacking and eyes gleaming.
“Well, would you look at that,” said Nana. “It’s that nice girl what you was married to.”
“Mrs. S!” cried Jackie, smothering her in a rib-crushing hug that pushed her wirerims off her nose and flattened her hair. “I waved to you at dinner.” She readjusted Nana’s glasses and fluffed her hair. “But you had your back to me, so you probably didn’t see me. So what did you think of the meal? Pretty awesome Asian fusion, huh?”
Nana gave her teeth a thoughtful suck. “Osmond said the rubber in the soup was a bit salty. Margi ate one a them slices a toast with the onions and said it bit back. And Bernice said cat food woulda tasted better. Don’t know if she was talkin’ about canned or dry.”
“But the Bang Bang Chicken, Mrs. S. Wasn’t it the best?”
“It burned the skin off my tongue.”
“Mine too!”
“And I don’t got no feelin’ in my lips.”
“Me either!”
“So what’d you like about it so much?”
Jackie paused, looking suddenly bewildered. “That it burned the skin off my tongue and left me with no feeling in my lips. I thought that’s what made it so good.”
Nana peered up at her, smiling indulgently. “You’re very tall, aren’t you, dear?”
“What did you do with Beth Ann?” I inquired when “lookalike Emily” failed to follow Jackie through the door.
Jackie tittered excitedly. “If all goes according to plan, she should be negotiating with the people from Maine right now.”
“About what?” asked Nana.
She bowed her head and cupped her hand over her mouth, her voice low and conspiratorial. “Our dinner companions expressed a keen interest in seeing the Red Light District at night, so they’ve offered Dietger a really big tip to take them on an unauthorized field trip. Beth Ann and I are trying to get in on the action.”
Nana’s jaw dropped to her navel. “The Red Light District? The real one? The place where ladies of the evenin’ earn high-yieldin’ investment capital by boinkin’ complete strangers in storefront windows?”
Jackie nodded. “Impressive, isn’t it? The Dutch are so enterprising.”
“Are you guys nuts?” I looked from one to the other. “According to the guidebooks, the Red Light District is a seamy cesspool of perversion, pot, porn, and prostitutes. It’s overrun with sex shops, opium dens, live nude revues, junkies, drug dealers, brothels—”
Nana held up her hand. “You don’t need to say no more, dear. I get the picture.” She stared up at Jackie with an imploring look. “Can I go, too?”
“Nana!” I cried. “What are you thinking? It’s too dangerous! You— you could get mugged, or—or drugged—or kidnapped at knife-point and sold into white slavery.”
Her face lit up. “No kiddin’?”
I rolled my eyes. “Do you know how much hot water I’d be in if Mom discovered I’d encouraged you to wander around the Red Light District in the company of perverts and prostitutes?”
“I wasn’t plannin’ to tell her, dear.”
“Aw, c’mon, Emily, lighten up.” Jackie patted the crown of Nana’s head as if she were a favorite pet. “She’ll be with me and Beth Ann and all the people from Maine. What could possibly happen to her?”
Oh, yeah. That was reassuring. “Which would you prefer to hear first? Best-case scenario or worst-case scenario?”
“Who’s Beth Ann?” asked Nana.
“Oh!” Jackie gushed. “I need to introduce you! Beth Ann is my—”
I clapped my hands over Nana’s ears.
Jackie fired me a narrow look. “She’s going to have a really hard time hearing me with your mitts covering her ears.”
“I know.”
Nana tapped the back of my hand. “What’d she say?”
I shook my head and mouthed, “Noth-ing.”
“Marion!” Dick Stolee hurried over to us, his thumb resting on the button of his stop watch. “What’s the holdup here? We’re thirty seconds behind schedule. Time’s a wastin’.”
Nana squinted hard at his face. “WHAT’D HE SAY?”
I dropped my hands. “He says it’s time to go. Have a good time.” I scooted her toward him. “Eat hearty. Stay on the main thoroughfares. Don’t wander down any dark alleys.”
“Where are you guys headed?” asked Jackie.
“We’re going out for dessert,” said Dick, “but we don’t know where yet because Osmond is still tallying the votes.” He lowered his voice to an exasperated whisper. “Grace and Helen’s phones are out of juice, so he’s insisting on secret ballots.”
“Stop the balloting!” cried Jackie. “Have I got a place for you.” Grabbing Dick’s arm, she aimed him toward the front door. “Exit the building. Turn right. Walk two blocks, and it’s on the left-hand side of the street. A delicious little pastry shop with all kinds of scrumptious chocolate cakes and fruit tarts in the display cases. To die for.” She turned to Nana. “Trust me, Mrs. S, I guarantee you’ll be happier gorging yourself on chocolate than checking out the nightlife.”
“You think?” she said, not looking entirely convinced. “Well, maybe me and George can share somethin’. We love whipped cream and chocolate sauce.” She grinned wickedly. “Sometimes we even put ’em in a bowl.”
I hung my head. Oh, God.
She looked up at Jackie. “If I give you my spare camera, would you take a few pictures? We’re studyin’ the seven deadly sins at the Legion of Mary this month, and they’re handin’ out door prizes for photos what capture the best nonliteral interpretation of the featured sin. Last week we done sloth.” A beatific smile split her face. “Next week, it’s lust.”