Death Under the Venice Moon (22 page)

I reeled off the number, and he kept on writing as the policeman dragged him out of the room.

"Hey, wait," I called after them. "I need to use the bathroom. Now. Please, got to go."

The cop looked at me without an ounce of sympathy. He moved away from the door, still holding on to Nicola's arm. "End of the hall," he said. "Hurry, I don't have all night."

I grabbed my purse and my dead phone and followed the direction of his pointing finger.

Four stalls lined one wall. The place was barren but clean. I wondered how many female employees worked in the building. I picked the last stall, as I planned to sit there for a very long time. I wanted to see who would come to get me. The lock didn't latch.

I used the toilet and, once done, sat quietly and waited. Lella York, the self-proclaimed queen of passive-aggressive behavior. I should write a book on the subject. Someday.

I didn't hear the door open. The staccato click of high heels against tile, however, perked up my attention.

So they did have women working here. What kind of uniforms did they wear? I wanted to see without being seen. I could peek through the crack between the stall door and hinges. Maybe it wasn't a woman cop. The tall blonde wore a black tailored pantsuit and—oh my God—it was Giada.

Calm down, Lella. Calm down
.

My first impulse was to push my stall's door wide open and rush to hug her. But something kept me from doing it. How had she gotten here so fast? Fifteen minutes ago I was on the phone with Larry, and he had no idea where I was. Even if he had known, even if he had sent her, how could Giada get from Garda's far shore to Verona so quickly? Impossible, even by plane. No way.

She went into the first stall. I held my breath. What was happening? Why was she here? To rescue me or to throw away the key, so to speak? She came out, washed her hands, examined her lipstick, fluffed her hair, then pulled a phone from her bag. Who was she calling?

Apparently no one. She held the generic piece of electronics with both hands. I could only see her profile. The phone looked a lot like Kyle's. What? Identical phones? Sort of sweet.
Focus, Lella.
She clicked then waited. Oh, she was checking her messages. Got it. Finally she dropped the phone back in the purse and left.

The phone chimed just as she reached the door. She fished in her bag again and pulled out a slick, black shiny object. A different phone.

"Hi, babe. Okay. Your mom?" She moved as she spoke, then was gone. The door closed softly on her back.

What had just happened?

She had my son's phone. How? I'd left it in the Focus. The light edginess I felt when I first saw her grew inside me like boiling water in a covered pot, ready to spill over any minute. And the heat was real. I was suffocating. I removed my jacket, blotted perspiration from my temples using toilet paper. I had to get out of there. What if they were looking for me? She would know I watched her snoop on Kyle's phone. Who was this woman? What did she want from me? From us?

I stepped out of the stall. Not even stopping to wash my hands, I tried to fan myself while rushing back to the room I had come from. It was deserted. No Nicola, no cops. The tray with the leftover food and drinks, all gone. I sat on the same couch as before and realized my knee must have improved, for the only thing I could feel was this heat radiating from my body.

I was trembling. My heart rumbled in my ears. I moved off the couch. I had to do something. That was when they came in. Giada and a man I'd never seen before.

He wore a uniform like the other cops but with more—something—
concentrate, Lella
…red stripes, small stripes
. Il comandante
. He must have been the boss they'd told me to expect.

I gave Giada my best imitation of a smile.

She walked over, took my hands, and kissed my cheeks. "Lella, you poor thing. Kyle told me what happened. I am so sorry. Got here as fast as I could. But now we can drive to my place. Your son and your detective friend are on their way there. Everything will be all right."

I was speechless, and that was a good thing as the word
bugiarda
formed on my tongue, fighting to be said. Calling her a liar out loud wouldn't have helped. Wouldn't have shed any light on this woman's dark soul.

"Giada, the battery on my phone is dead. It's always something." Was that relief brightening her lovely face? "Do you have any idea why the police brought me here? No one would talk to me. There was a young man, also. Nicola. Nicola Martori."

"Oh, yes, the troublemaker."
Troublemaker?
"Did you know he was the paparazzo who took that awful photo of you and Cruz on the
Gemelli
?"

"Yes, as matter of fact I did know, but it's okay. Augusta the concierge was behind the whole thing."

She blinked, possibly not having anticipated such an answer. "Everyone was concerned with your safety. Didn't you tell your American detective that you were being followed? Certainly you should have known they would spring into action. Once the police were sure Nicola couldn't do you any harm, they let him go, and here I am, to take you home." A short laugh. "My home, for now." She turned to the man. "
Comandante
, if you give us the keys we'll be on our way." Big smiles all around. Was she asking for the keys to the Focus?

"
Assolutamente
. Let's go get the keys." More smiles.

I wanted to scream for them to stop the comedy, but I remembered that old saying, you catch more flies with honey than vinegar, so I smiled back.

She steered the Focus as if she'd done it her whole life. I sat in the passenger seat, hoping to be invisible. Kyle's phone had been in the car exactly where I'd left it. Was I wrong about Giada? Maybe she had two phones. Maybe she was in Verona when Kyle or Larry or somebody called her and told her about my plight. But how did she get to the police station? Only yesterday I'd been fantasizing about her as the mother of my grandkids. I was so confused. And so tired.

"You look tired." She echoed my feelings. "It's been a very long day for you. Luckily a friend gave me a lift, so you don't need to drive, relax. It's a short ride. "

I kept quiet and watched the green signs of the
autostrada
fly by.

"Mrs. York—Lella, have you considered moving back to Italy permanently?"

"No, of course not." My alertness level jumped to new heights.

"Huh, because of your friend the detective?" Where was she going with this?

"Partly, but mostly because of Kyle. He is my only family, my whole life." I found myself choking up.
Maledizione
.

"What if he decided to stay?"

"Stay? Why would he? All he's been talking about is going back to California to read the new scripts his agent received." Was I hallucinating or was the woman smiling? She certainly perked up. What did I say that made her so happy? Maybe it was the headlights from the passing cars, playing tricks on her profile.

"Kyle is a great actor. He could have a bright future anywhere and especially here, with Cruz out of the picture and a—"

"My God, Giada, you speak as if Cruz is dead."

"Oh, no, no." Alarm in her tone. Interesting. "You misunderstood me."

No, I didn't, you little witch
.

Before I realized it, we passed Peschiera. I had to admit Verona and Lake Garda weren't that far from each other. Maybe my suspicions were wrong. Still.

"I meant that, due to Cruz's behavior, the studio I work for will very likely not renew his contract." Her voice had regained its typical coolness.

"That's too bad. You may be right. He may be dying somewhere or dead already. Look at poor Pia."

She didn't answer, but even in the dim glow of the dashboard I could see a muscle twitch at the corner of her glossy lips. What was eating at her? There had to be something going on. Why did I feel it was no coincidence I found myself on my way to her house instead of driving myself back to my hometown?

Was it she who saw to it the police picked me up at the rest area? How? She had no idea where I went, where I was.

The silence in the Focus grew suffocating, I wanted to tell her to stop the car and let me out. Just then I heard the click of the turn signal. We had arrived…somewhere.

*  *  *

It didn't matter that only eleven hours had gone by since we had all been together, it felt like a lifetime.

Larry and Kyle arrived at Giada's place at almost the same time we did. The small house sat high on the hills before the turnoff to Desenzano del Garda. It must have been in her family for a very long time. I couldn't tell about the outside because of the darkness, but the shiny wooden floors looked like the kind my grandmother had in her house, the house that was her father's before it was hers.

No one was hungry; we had drinks. I returned Kyle's phone to him just as a call came in. He looked at the number and excused himself, stepping out onto the small covered terrace with the view of hundreds of twinkling lights down by the lake.

I sat on a velvet-covered sofa, next to Larry, who played with my wrist and the palm of my hand. "I can't believe you befriended that stalker." He leaned over and brushed my hand with his lips, his eyes riveted to mine. What was he trying to tell me? We knew the house only had two bedrooms, and Larry had quietly set my overnight bag next to his in the smaller room. I still felt funny sleeping with Larry under the same roof as Kyle.

My son had never brought any female overnight guest to my house either. Sort of an unspoken rule. Sounds came from the kitchen, where Giada busied herself rinsing glasses and cups.

Kyle came back in. I could tell something bothered him. "Is everything okay? Who would call you at this time of night?"

"Mom, it's daytime in California. Carolyn." He wasn't very talkative.

He seemed to have aged some in the last few days. Could it have been a consequence of watching Pia die? That was possibly the first time he had seen death so close and personal. His dad was already dead when Kyle got the call, but with Pia it was different. He witnessed life escaping her body. He watched helplessly and would probably carry an unjustified sense of guilt with him for years to come.

"Is something wrong?" Giada came from the kitchen. Her face also had a shadow that wasn't there before. Kyle shrugged. Something just happened, and everyone seemed to know about it except me.

"I need to get back to Venice in the morning." Kyle stood in the middle of the room, his back to me. "I'll be checking out of the Century. How about you, Mom?"

"I—I probably will too. What about you and Larry helping to find Cruz?"

"I've done all I could. They located the
baita
I told them about. It's out of my hands. I don’t see what else I could do, probably just getting in the way of the trained experts. Anyhow…I'm done."

Done? Did he mean done with Italy? Judging by Giada's expression, she thought that was what he meant. She didn't look too pleased.

"Okay, then, see you all in the morning." And with that, Kyle went to bed.

The disappointment on our hostess's face was so obvious I felt sorry for her. "Do you need any help in the kitchen?" I asked, anticipating her answer.

"Thanks, no. I'm going to sleep also. It has been a very emotional day. Feel free to help yourself if you need anything.
Buonanotte
." She turned off the kitchen lights. "I usually leave the side lamp on." She left the room.

Larry put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. His lips in my ear, he whispered, "Do you think she has cameras in every room? Shh, smile, just in case."

Chills ran up the nape of my neck. I hoped it was his idea of being funny. If not, what did he know that I didn't?

The hardest part was calming Larry when he saw my purplish, swollen knee after I undressed.

"Who the hell did this to you? Cop or no cop, this isn't right."

"Larry, please. It wasn't intentional." Or was it? "I tripped and he bumped into me. It's over. Let's forget about it."

Mumbling his discontent, he turned off the light, and we snuggled under the blankets. Our room was opposite Giada and Kyle's, with the living room in between. Unless we shouted or the place was bugged, at least we could talk without our conversation being heard. Regardless of all that, I still felt funny about sleeping with Larry with my son just feet away, and not funny in a good way.

"Why that remark about cameras? Were you poking fun at me?"

"No, nothing entertaining about that blonde. Now don't make yourself crazy. Kyle is on to her. Didn't you find it strange that two minutes after you pulled over on the
autostrada
a highway patrol was breathing down your neck? Think about it: how many highway patrol cars have we seen all the miles we've driven? None. That's right."

"Oh my God, that explains it."

"Explains what?"

"He didn't ask me for anything—no proof of insurance, driver license, nothing. And I thought he was charmed by my personality. But why? He escorted me to the rest area and left."

"That was probably Giada's caring about your safety. If we assume she had a tracking device on the car and knowing you were alone, she may have been concerned something had happened and sent the highway patrol to check it out."

"Sent the highway patrol? What? Is she their boss or something? She snaps her fingers and voila?"

"Pretty much so, according to the Italian detective. It isn't she but the corporation she works for that holds the power."

"Okay, so what happened the second time when three cops showed up and chased poor Nicola then dragged us both to jail? Okay. It wasn't a jail, and we really weren't dragged, but it could have gone that way."

He laughed that low laugh that made me want to grab him and kiss him all over. "Ah, sweetie, you have yourself to blame for that. Remember when you called from the public bathroom and wanted me to check out that license plate? How did you think I was going to do that? I might have connections in California, but here I'm just another tourist. I asked the detective to do it. The minute he entered the numbers in the system, someone must have tipped off Giada. Keep in mind she had to know who sold Cruz's picture on the boat. With their paid informers, that would be easy to find out." He moved his leg slowly so as not to bump my sore knee. I quivered at the contact. "Now the same man showed up at the rest area where you were. Warning signals must have gone off in her head. No one knew my soft-hearted sweetie had bonded with her stalker."