"Wouldn't do much good to ask me to. I was a dentist," he said, grinning. "Are you ladies here for the skiing?"

They both laughed. "No, we aren't into exercise," Shelley said. "We're just along for a break. My husband is here looking into some investments."

"Ah, one of the people thinking of buying Bill out, huh?"

Shelley looked stricken. "Oh, dear. I didn't mean to be indiscreet. Mr. Smith is the owner of this resort," she explained to Jane.

"No, no. You didn't let any cats out of any bags," Lucky assured her. "It's just that I know Bill Smith and know he's real anxious to sell out so he can retire to Florida. He and Joanna have a bungalow and a nice boat down there already."

"So you're here because you're a friend of the owner?" Jane asked. "How nice."

"Well, in a manner of speaking, I guess you could say that."

At their questioning looks, he elaborated. "You see, I'm the current president of the Holnagrad Society. Uh-oh. I can see from the way you drew back at the word that you've met our Doris. I'm right, aren't I?"

"Your Doris being the very tall, severe-looking woman?" Shelley asked uneasily.

"Looks like Lincoln? Yup. That's Doris Schmidtheiser."

"Yes, we met yesterday."

"Well, we're here and we all know Bill because Doris has a bee in her bonnet about him."

"Oh?" Jane said politely.

"Yup. The way Doris figures it, Bill Smith is the rightful Tsar of Russia."

Chapter 3

Jane nearly spewed coffee all over the table.

When she'd recovered herself, she gasped, "I'm sorry. It just struck me as funny. Bill Smith, Tsar of all the Russias. Somehow it doesn't sound quite right."

Lucky laughed. "It doesn't sound much better to Bill, I can tell you."

"Mr. Smith doesn't want to be Tsar?" Shelley asked, smiling. "I guess I can see why. Look at what happened to the last one. I'm sorry. That was a grim thing to say. How did Mrs. Sm—"