The Body in the Fjord Read Free Page B

Mermaid Meets the Trolls: Copenhagen to Fjord Country.” The Mermaid/Troll tour. The tour where Kari and Erik had last been seen.
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    Pix leaned back into her seat. It was ten o’clock at night and they were still in Newark. It had already been the flight from hell and they weren’t even in the air. First, the plane from Boston was delayed—something about thunderstorms in New Jersey. One of the legion of dark-suited businesspeople glued to their cell phones had pried himself away to shout to a companion that one of the tanks at the oil refineries near the turnpike had been struck by lightning and that things were totally screwed up. For some reason, they both thought this was hysterically funny.
    When the flight finally was announced for boarding, the surge of humanity threatened to engulf them, until Mrs.Arnold Lyman Rowe whipped out her folding cane and parted the seas. Pix had never seen this cane before, and as they were ushered to the head of the line, Ursula flashed her a triumphant look. “I only use it when I have to,” she whispered. Clearly this was going to be a no-holds-barred trip.
    Strongly citing extreme inconvenience, Ursula got them bumped to first class after they arrived at SAS in Newark, where they discovered their flight was at the gate but that the doors were closed. They would be forced to wait several hours for the next flight. She also made them call Marit. By the time they got on the plane, Pix was exhausted. Ursula was, of course, fresh as a daisy and perky to boot. Pix wondered why on earth her mother had thought she would need her daughter’s help. So far, the only thing Pix had done was use one of the meal chits SAS had issued to secure a cup of tea for Ursula. The hamburgers that had been sitting wrapped in foil for many hours and fries from before that had held little appeal for either of them. Well, she could start taking charge now.
    â€œI think the best thing to do is put on these masks and go right to sleep. That way, we’ll be on Norwegian time when we arrive. I’ll tell the steward we don’t want the meal.”
    Ursula had been examining the contents of the bag thoughtfully provided to first-class passengers for many hundreds of dollars extra with all the excitement of a child opening a very large birthday present.
    â€œEven toothpaste!” she exclaimed. The Rowe women, besides traveling light, always traveled economy class.
    â€œI’m going to reset my watch now.” Pix adjusted her footrest. They would be able to sleep in these seats, something impossible on every other flight she’d made. Fitting her long, angular frame into an airline seat was like trying to put those springy joke snakes back in the fake mixed-nuts can. Both mother and daughter were tall—and attractive, although Pix had never believed she was, despite a husband given to unrestrained, unlawyerly rhapsodiesabout her dark chestnut hair and deep brown eyes. Ursula’s hair was white, a clean white, like new-fallen snow. It too was short, but, unlike Pix’s, it curled slightly. Ursula’s cheekbones had become more pronounced, yet age had not clouded her brown eyes.
    Pix reached for the button to summons the steward.
    â€œWhat are you doing, dear?”
    â€œCalling the steward, so we won’t be disturbed when they serve dinner. We can wear these sleep masks.”
    â€œBut I want my dinner. It could be something nice.” Her mother sounded uncharacteristically plaintive.
    Pix had heard Faith on the subject of airplane food and thought it unlikely that SAS had whisked a cordon bleu chef aboard especially for this flight.
    Ursula persevered. “It will probably be something Scandinavian. You know how much you like salmon. It could be salmon.”
    â€œAll right, we’ll have dinner, then go to sleep immediately after.”
    Her mother had pulled a menu from the pocket in front of them. “See, smoked salmon to start. Now,