Death on Tour - Janice Hamrick [37]
“Did Kyla tell you about our encounter with a guy named Aladdin?” I asked, desperate to say something.
“Aladdin?”
“Really. He said his name was Aladdin. He wanted to show us his wares. Very creepy.”
I stopped to take a picture of the largest hibiscus I had ever seen. I loved plants, at least those cared for by others. I had a hard time keeping anything alive.
“What kind of wares?” asked Alan.
“I don’t know. We didn’t get that far. He wanted us to go with him, but Kyla convinced him otherwise. You were great, by the way,” I added.
She was torn between annoyance and gratification. “Well, someone had to stand up to him.”
Alan looked from Kyla to me, finally picking up on the undercurrents. “You were smart not to go with him, but he was probably just an overeager salesman.”
I frowned. “Except he was really persistent. And he almost acted as though we should recognize his name.”
“He probably thought that tourists like the name Aladdin,” said Kyla impatiently. “What difference does it make, anyway?”
Alan looked like he was about to say something, but just then the group of boys playing in the grass kicked a ball too hard. It sailed past us and looked as though it was on its way to the Nile. Alan made a lunge for it, missed, and then ran after to save it from dropping off the steep bank.
Kyla took the opportunity to grab my arm.
“What is up with you?” she hissed in a low angry tone.
I eyed her narrowly. She wanted a fight, I just wasn’t sure why. “What do you mean?”
“Alan. Do you have a problem with me talking to him?”
Wow. She used to be much more subtle when we were in high school and she’d been making the moves on Matt Fletcher even though she knew I had a huge crush on him. I’d cried into my pillow back then, but I was far too old for that now.
“Is that what you’d like? It’s no fun if someone else doesn’t want him?” I kept my tone low, but I didn’t bother to hide my irritation.
She went white, then bright red. “At least I have a life. What do you have? Riding herd on a bunch of ungrateful delinquents all day and then spending the evening with a beer and a remote isn’t much to be proud of.”
“Better than vodka and a vibrator,” I snapped.
We glared at each other like a couple of grizzlies getting ready to go at it over a cub. Or maybe like a sleek jungle leopard against a wildebeest. A peacock and a wet hen? A Doberman versus a dachshund? Anyway, all we needed was a fight ring and a bell to turn this into the ugliest showdown since Tyson gnawed off Holyfield’s ear. Fortunately, Alan returned, tossing the ball back to the kids.
Kyla grabbed his arm. “Come on, Alan, let’s go find a drink. Jocelyn, you can catch up later, right?”
Tactful she was not, but her methods were effective. Alan escorted her up the path at a very respectable clip, leaving me in the proverbial dust. He glanced at me over his shoulder, and I quickly turned to take a picture of something or other.
I managed to arrive in the little market on the southern end of the island right on time for our group meeting. Everyone else was already there, even Fiona and Flora. I joined Lydia, Dawn, and Nimmi at a low railing. They were looking down at a lower level where DJ was busy haggling with a woman over a brightly colored scarf. Even from this distance I could tell it was of exceptionally poor quality, but DJ was having so much fun. His hands waved enthusiastically as he talked, up by his ears one minute, down low the next. His audience was commenting loudly on his performance and giggling like kids.
I glanced back at the rest of the group. Kyla was sitting alone on a bench holding a plastic bottle of Coke, and Alan stood thirty feet away, talking with Ben and Lydia. I did not know quite what to make of that.
After a few minutes, Anni called us together and we followed Hello Kitty a very short distance to look at the Aga Khan mausoleum where it perched across the water on the western shore. By now, the sun was well on its way to the western horizon and the building was almost a silhouette. Although pretty in its way,