Susan Gillard - Chocolate Tiramisu Murder

Heather and Ryan stood inthe lobby of the Hotel Venezia with their bags around their ankles, holdinghands.

Im so glad were offthat airplane, Ryan said and stifled a yawn with the back of his hand.

Right? That lady with theattitude, wow. Heather shook her head.

Through some strangemix-up at the airport, Ryan and Heathers seats had been separated by theaisle, and they had to spend the flight dealing with two senile ladies. One forHeather and one for Ryan, not exactly the perfect way to start their VenetianHoneymoon.

Were here now, thatsall that matters, Heather said.

Theyd sent Dave back withAmy, whod sworn to protect him and her furry white carpets with sheets ofplastic, but Heather still couldnt help worrying about her do-gooder puppydog.

An old man shuffled to thefront desk, which was a curved mahogany construction, accented with gold andpolished to perfection, and nodded towards them.

Good day, lady andgentleman. How may I be of service to the lovely couple? His Italian accentwas thick, but after a wedding in France, Heather was used to listeningcarefully to what people had to say.

Were checking in, Ryansaid, stepping forward. Our reservation is under Shepherd?

Very well, thereceptionist replied. He bent over a computer and typed with his twoforefingers. Tick, tick, tick went the keys.

Heather used the lapse inaction to stroll around the lobby of the hotel. It wasnt huge, not as opulentand styled as the Hotel Saint James had been, but it was beautiful.

A delicate crystalchandelier hung above a central table in the room, also accented with gold giltand carrying a massive centerpiece of snow white lilies. Heather bent to sniffthem.

Something slammed into herside and the tip of her nose connected with the centermost flower. Heathergrabbed at the table to stop from falling on top of the arrangement.

Oh! She yelped.

The thin porcelain vasewobbled and bobbled, then totally betrayed her. It keeled over and smashed ontothe surface of the table. Flowers and water sprayed from the top and hit themaroon carpets below.

Idiota! A man yelledbeside her.

Heathers heart leapedinto her throat, and she turned to take in the damage.

A handsome fifty-somethingyear old with a thick head of black hair and sharp blue eyes, glared at her. Hewore a well-fitted suit which was now drenched in water and pollen.

Oh my gosh, Im sorry,Heather said. Are you all right? She had the habit of apologizing even thoughit was him whod bumped into her first.

Served her right forstopping to smell the daisies.

Ryan rushed up beside her.Are you all right?

Im fine. Just a bit ofan accident?

Accident? The manexclaimed, in perfect English. Accident?! I am on my way to the premiere of mymovie, and you have ruined my suit. Rude woman. Pig woman.

Whoa, Heather said. Thatwas uncalled for.

Dont speak to my wifelike that. Ryan folded his arms and aligned himself with Heather, bumping hiship against hers lightly.

She followed the exampleand folded her arms too. You bumped into me, sir. And Id appreciate anapology.

The receptionist hurriedaround the mahogany desk, gripping the edge and shuffling his tired feettowards them. What is the problem?

This man bumped into me,I broke the vase and is now causing a scene about it, Heather said,matter-of-factly. Take that rude Italian dude.

Do you have any idea whoI am? The Italian asked.

The receptionist grimacedand knuckled his forehead. Signore Ginelli, please calm yourself.

Calm myself? The womanhas ruined my evening and does not understand that gravity of her mistake. Shemust pay for this. I demand reparations! Ginelli raised his fist in the airand shook it.

What a wonderful way tostart our honeymoon, Ryan muttered.

But the name Ginelli ranga bell. Heather was sure shed read it somewhere before.

Look, Im not paying foranything, she said, and let her arms drop to her sides. This was anaccident.

Of course not, signora,you will pay for nothing, the receptionist replied, his gray eyebrows wigglingup and down.

She will pay for mysuit, Ginelli yelled. This is Georgio Armani. Do you know who that is, woman?Probably not. You dont have an ounce of class. I can tell from youryour Hecut off and pointed at her clothes.

Cardigan, Heather said,helpfully. And if clothes measured class, we wouldnt be having this lovelylittle conversation.

You dare

Gino! The receptionisthissed. Gino, people are starting to stare.

The man looked around thelobby, at the gathering crowd of newcomers who wanted to check in and the otherpatrons of the hotel. A few faces peered out of a door at the end of the lobby,which gave a sneak peek of a room beyond with a television on the wall and abartender frozen to the spot, with a glass in one hand.

The horrible guy made agrunting noise, then pushed past Heather and Ryan and strode out of the frontdoors. He snapped at the doorman too.

What a temper, Heathersaid.

Ryan was purple with rage.I want to know who that was. And I want to report him for harassment.

That wont be necessary,Ryan. Heather massaged a spot on the back of his neck. Hes not worth thetrouble, and were here to celebrate our honeymoon.

Im sorry about that,Signora, he is a famous actor for us, Gino Ginelli. He has been living in thehotel for a long time. The receptionist pulled a face.

Clearly, this wasnt thefirst incident with Mr. Ginelli. Finally, the name made sense to her. Shedprobably read the Foreign Arts section of a paper and seen a report on the guy.

Signore, your room isprepared, and the bellboy has taken the bags for you. The receptionist took akey chain out from behind his back and handed it to Ryan. I can only apologizefor Signore Ginellis behavior. Perhaps a complementary bottle of champagne?

Yeah, thatll work, Ryanreplied, and sniffed.

Heather took his arm, andtogether they walked to the ornate elevator at the other end of the lobby. Thegazes of those onlookers whod witnessed the fight followed them, closely.