Dutch Me Deadly by Maddy Hunter Read Free Book Online Page A

them bend their heads over their phones again, I made up my mind. If they were to survive Holland, they needed to get rid of the things. I could convince them. I knew I could.
    I just had to figure out how.
    “Sorry, bella .” Etienne came back on the line. “That was your mother.”
    “You ditched me for my mother?”
    “She needed to tell me what time she and your father are picking me up in the morning.”
    Alarm bells began ringing inside my head. “You’re going someplace with Mom and Dad?”
    “Fishing,” he said in a pained voice. “In the wilds of Minnesota. Away from Main Street, cable television, and cellphone towers.”
    “Fishing?” I paused. “Why?”
    “Because your mother set off the sprinkler system when she flambéed lunch for me in the office yesterday, so while the cleaning crew squeegees the water out of the carpet, I’m going fishing with your parents, at their insistence, to help me cope with the stress of the situation.”
    I sat frozen in place, my stomach sliding to my knees. The sprinkler system? “How much damage did—”
    “Another call coming in, Emily. Forgive me.”
    Outside, our tour bus pulled up by the revolving door at the entrance to the hotel, its engine roaring powerfully enough to rattle the window glass. My guys, however, remained in cellphone comas until they noticed a steady stream of Mainers meandering into the lobby from the stairwell, and then they pounced, approaching the newcomers, engaging them in conversation, acting unnaturally friendly.
    Whoa. This was a little weird. My guys never volunteered to break the ice, so what was up with all the spontaneous schmoozing?
    “I’m back,” said Etienne, “but I can’t talk. Our insurance adjustor is on the other line. But tell me quickly. What are the Passages people doing about your tour director issue?”
    “The company is sending us a replacement. We’re expecting him to arrive either late this evening or early tomorrow morning. He’s on holiday at the moment, so he probably won’t be too happy about having his vacation interrupted. Keep your fingers crossed that he’s not another Charlotte. I don’t think any of us could handle an instant replay of that fiasco.”
    “Promise me you’ll contact the authorities if the man from Maine gives you reason to suspect him of something untoward.”
    “I promise.”
    He sighed. “I miss you, bella .”
    “I miss you more.”
    “I’ll call you the minute I return to civilization.”
    “You better! Happy fishing. I love you.” I disconnected.
    Fishing? Etienne? I shook my head. This could turn out to be an even bigger disaster than the Hindenburg.
    “Emil yyyyyyy !”
    I looked up at a woman so tall, she could have played the lead
role in Attack of the 50 Foot Woman. Her hair was long and glossy—
the kind that men imagine seeing fanned over a satin bed pillow. Her complexion was flawless, her makeup so artfully applied that her face could have hung in the Louvre. She was dressed in a leather skirt the size of a man’s handkerchief and a cropped leopard-print jacket that hugged her curves like plastic wrap. A gargantuan designer bag hung over her shoulder—metallic bronze, to match the stiletto-heeled boots that caressed her legs all the way to her thighs. Her name was Jackie Thum. Before she’d acquired breasts and a passion for handbags the size of Delaware, she’d been a guy named Jack Potter, and I’d been married to him.
    “Give me a hug!” she squealed, yanking me off the sofa-bench and hoisting me into her arms like a weightlifter executing the clean and jerk. “I thought we’d never get here!”
    “Where’ve you … been?” I choked out as she bear-hugged the air out of me.
    “Sitting in Kennedy Airport, waiting for the weather to clear.” She set me back on my feet and boxed my shoulders to straighten the lines of my jacket. “I thought we’d never get out of there. And of course, no one met us at the airport this morning, so we had