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A Murder Misstery Aloft

For those who came in late, Matt McCoy – now Madeline Moreau – is on the run for a crime he did not commit, and a murder which she did....after discovering a shocking secret about her past, Maddy spreads her wings, and more.

The journey from St. Martin to Montreal, on a charter flight crammed with sunburned Canucks, was sheer penance. Stuck in a miserable coach seat between a snoring slob and a psychotic woman who talked my ear off, I endured a horrid meal featuring tough, tasteless chicken, a moldy bread roll and an undrinkable split of wine, serenaded by a screaming infant in the seat behind me. The worst part was having to climb over the slob in my skirt to stand in line for the stinking coach toilet...hoisting up my skirt and tugging down my panties and hose to straddle the pee-covered seat, I bemoaned my decision to become a woman.

Despite the wine and a sleeping pill, I couldn't even doze off as the endless hours droned on. Finally, after circling the airport for what seemed like an eternity, we were lucky to be able to land in a near blizzard on the frozen tundra. When I stepped outside the terminal to find a taxi, it was immediately apparent that my pathetic skirt, sweater and nylons would be no match for the brutal Canadian winter. I'd spent most of my life in Chicago, but not in a skirt, so the blast of frigid air took my breath away. Fortunately, the turbaned taxi driver heated his cab to 90 degrees, and it almost felt like I was back in the Caribbean as we made our way into downtown Montreal.

My hotel, which catered to road warriors and government types, was located in a tatty section of downtown Montreal, and my threadbare room was immediately depressing. Fortunately, Montreal is connected by a maze of underground shopping centers, and I was able to avoid the elements while I bought a sturdy woolen topcoat and a pair of calf-length leather boots, as well as gloves, a long scarf and a beret. I lingered at a little bistro over onion soup and red wine before I trudged through the snow to the Queen Elizabeth Hotel. I asked the concierge to show me the agenda for the upcoming medical conference, and learned that Jacques would be presenting his paper in three days' time.

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