Deception of the Heart (20 page)

‘You sure
Melanie’s not here?’ the voice asked, the rough undertone frustratingly familiar yet distant.

‘Nope, she and our
Mister Handsome are touring the countryside today.’ Pete’s response stopped her in her tracks, and she stood frozen, listening to the men laugh.

‘Good for her, I say
,’ the other man spoke again, his patronizing chuckle irritating the hell out of her. ‘So you got all you needed from Spitieri?’

‘
Yeah, I’ve got the exact schedule and the plan of the building,’ Pete answered. Something in his voice made her shrink back from the door. He couldn’t see her or hear her, of course, and yet some instinct warned her to step back. ‘I arranged for the delivery. I mean, it was worth every effing moment I had to spend with this creep. I’ve got the Spitieris’ whole plan pinned down to seconds. Not the official shit, of course. Just all those little irritating habits he has before he goes out there…’

She couldn’t move. Something was horribly wrong,
and she longed to pinch herself and find it all a dream, or rather a nightmare. Why would Pete talk about Daniel like that? Who was the other person? The heavy footsteps on the other side of the paper-thin door made her guess it must be someone heavy…

Then
it hit her. She knew the man hidden behind the wall. It all made sense. The memory of the corpulent man with sweat-plastered dark hair that walked by the hotel only yesterday rose in her mind. Images of the same man back in New York, loud and gregarious as they visited his restaurant, followed soon after. So Giovanni was here, just as she thought. Why would Pete deny it? He must have known yesterday when she told him about the encounter. Yet he lied to her, coming up with some story to put her off the trail. Why?

‘Listen
, man, I am starving,’ Giovanni complained, and she imagined his round chin shaking in disapproval. ‘Leave this shit here for now. It’s not like anyone will walk in, right? The girl has no key to your room, does she?’

‘
The girl’ meant her, Melanie realized, her amazement growing with each passing second. She heard the men talk some more, scraps of conversations she didn’t really understand, before going out. The click of the door leading to the hallway alerted her of their departure.

She didn’t even remember she was still clutching the hairclip until she looked down
at her fingers wrapped around the metal wire. An idea formed in her brain, impossible to resist. She had to see what he’d left behind that she wasn’t supposed to see. She silenced the voice of reason warning her she was going into some unknown territory that couldn’t lead anywhere good. She knew, there and then, that if she let it be, she’d regret it forever, regardless of the consequences. She’d heard them talk and knew enough to worry but not nearly enough to understand how much she should worry. There was no other way to settle it but to take a peek. After all, what harm would it do? At the last moment, she turned back to grab the key to her own room. She couldn’t have said why, but she felt she needed to keep it close.

It took her less than half a minute to conquer the old
-fashioned lock. Carefully she opened the door, just wide enough to let her see the inside of Pete’s room. It was empty, the silence deafening after the conversation she had so unexpectedly witnessed.

She walked in cautiously, her feet treading carefully on the carpeted floor. Making noise was not an option, even if Pete and Giovanni were
n’t there. Who knew if they would change their minds and come back? Wasn’t that what usually happened in suspense movies?

Her luck held
, though. She glanced around, trying to notice anything out of the ordinary. At the first glance, she was disappointed. Everything seemed completely normal, as far as she could tell. The perfectly made bed and furniture mirrored her own room. The desk didn’t seem to hold anything new either. There was the laptop, probably brought back when Pete returned from the Spitieris’. Plus some piles of papers, which she recognized as the materials she’d felt so tempted to get before. She walked closer and leafed through the papers, expecting to find something unusual. Nothing.

She walked to the window, cautiously peeking out. She wasn’t sure what she would look for,
since seeing Pete and Giovanni was not something she should hope for, given her intrusion. Stepping back, she glanced at the bed, and that was when she finally noticed the black small case peeking out from under the night table.

She wasn’t sure why she decided to open it. A smart person would certainly let it be instead of stepping into the
wasps’ nest, eyes wide open. She kneeled down next to it, her fingers gentle as she pressed the golden lock. And then she gasped.

Her first impulse was to shut it
again, her fingers trembling. She stared at the gun and the few brown envelopes tucked neatly into the interior compartments. The gun was small, the silver barrel glistening in the sunlight pouring into the room from the large window. She hesitated before reaching for the envelopes, her hands shaking so much she had to try twice before she managed to take them from the case. It wasn’t the easiest task to do mostly one-handed. Her survival instincts kicked in and warned her she had to be extremely careful. She had to make sure things were put back exactly the way she first saw them. Any change was bound to make Pete suspicious. She still didn’t want to think about what it all meant, her search turning more ugly with each passing minute.

There were photographs, mostly of Daniel and Sophia
Spitieri, taken at some of his earlier presentations, on the street, and, most chillingly, in their house. She watched the older couple, their oblivious faces smiling in many of the pictures and filling her with dread. She sorted through them, keeping them carefully in the exact same order, twelve windows into the life of the Spitieris, the purpose of such a gallery still unfathomable. The next envelope helped her to clarify their meaning. Schedules of Spitieri’s appearances, red lines marking the dates in Rome. With growing horror, she watched the short memo regarding his upcoming Casa del L’Arte lecture. There was a comment next to it, written in Pete’s hand: “boom.” One simple word, yet so eloquent. Next was a list of names, some of them recognizable as people from the world of literature and art, mentioned by Pete on numerous occasions. It was a plain computer printout, blurry and blotchy, probably done on some cheap printer in someone’s basement.

She put it back into the envelope, careful not to mix up even the smallest detail. Ever so gently, she placed
the envelope back into the compartment, her shaking fingers fumbling with the lock before it fell in place. She had to get out, as far and as fast as possible, before Pete returned.

She was still too frozen to fully comprehend what had just happen
ed, her body on autopilot as she prepared to leave the room, making sure she didn’t make a mistake. She couldn’t go back through the adjoining corridor. The hairpin tool worked well to open doors but did little to leave them locked. Instead she locked it once more from the inside of Pete’s room and walked out into the main hallway, the lock clicking the moment the door fell into place.

Her hands
shook so badly, she had to try four times to unlock her own door. She slipped in, leaning against it with her heart beating as if she’d finished running a marathon. What was she supposed to do next? She couldn’t just sit and wait for Pete to hurt Daniel. By now, all her doubts that that was the case disappeared, the sinister plan making more and more sense. She still couldn’t imagine why would he ever want to hurt the old man, but she didn’t doubt it was happening. She needed to hurry. She grabbed her handbag and walked out the door. Pete didn’t know she’d returned earlier from her outing with Jon. If she was careful enough to avoid him, she could grab a cab and drive to the Spitieris’ house. Going to the local police with her very limited knowledge of Italian was out of the question. At the Spitieris’, she could ask Jon to contact the police if he also considered it necessary. Maybe she was letting her imagination run too far? She clung to that notion for a second before dismissing it completely. There was a gun, photos of Daniel, and his name marked on a list that was definitely a far cry from a Christmas presents wish list. She owed it to the couple to warn them, even if it cost her her job. She hadn’t thought of that aspect of the situation yet, but it didn’t slow her for one second. Whatever happened to her job was totally insignificant compared to the possible danger to Daniel.

She knew a taxi stop next to the hotel
. The spot was usually stocked with multiple drivers waiting for customers. She’d seen it when they arrived from the airport and later as she and Jon walked into the hotel. Was that really only hours ago? It felt like a lifetime already. She wanted to see him, she realized suddenly, missing the air of safety and total confidence that clung to him and protected her from harm. He’d know what to do. She walked cautiously to the side door, avoiding the reception area. She worried she might run into Pete and Giovanni, and the explanation was certain to be difficult.

She was relieved to find the taxi stand,
quickly slipping into the first waiting car and telling the driver the address. He seemed pleased enough, which was understandable, given the rather long trip they would be making. He flashed her a dazzling smile, his teeth surreally white in his deeply tanned face. Even her awkward admission she didn’t speak any Italian didn’t dampen his spirit. He chatted on, the car moving through the late afternoon traffic and soon reaching Via Appia.

As she sat
in the car and felt helpless to do anything but wait, she had time to think over what happened back in Pete’s room. Would the Spitieris even believe her? She had no proof after all. Nothing but her own account of events that seemed sillier as she got closer to their house. She knew she had to try, her gut feeling telling her she was right and they were in mortal danger. All she had to do was to convince them she wasn’t crazy. She could only hope she’d succeed.

‘I need to talk to Mr.
Spitieri right away.’ She ignored the confused expression on the maid’s face as she pressed on, her high heels clicking against the marble tiles of the foyer. She knew the house by now, the surroundings oddly familiar. It was hard to believe she had laid eyes on it only two days ago. She felt a weird sense of detachment until she noticed the tall, white door leading to Daniel’s office. She pushed it open, too impatient to wait for an invitation.

‘Daniel, I need to tell you something,’ she burst out, relieved to see the older man sitting at his desk. For one awful second
, she’d thought she might be too late, her body frozen with panic until she finally put two and two together. God, but she was stupid and blind!

‘It’s about Pete, Daniel
,’ she gasped, her eyes pleading. ‘You’re in danger. I think he might want to kill you. I know it sounds insane, but believe me, I am not making it up.’

‘And what would make you think that, Miss Bennett?’ a voice asked
. Her confused eyes went to the rest of the group, noticing for the first time that she and Daniel weren’t alone. Two men stood there. One was an older, short stranger with piercing brown eyes, he was the one talking to her now, and Jonathan, his jet black gaze resting on her with a mix of exasperation and something that looked almost like… pain. She remembered the older man, the memory of a sun-filled morning in the Piazza Navona coming back to her the instant their eyes met.

‘Jon, you’re here,’ she stammered, surprised
. Her heart skipped a beat as she smiled at him hesitantly, her senses calming and the panicky fog lifting immediately. The effect he had on her was bizarre. Just the sheer presence of his tall, dark, good-looking frame was enough to make things seem right.

‘I know it sounds really impossible, but I think Pete plans to assassinate Daniel
.’ She was still talking to Jon, her hazel eyes wide with worry. ‘I came here as soon as I found out. I still cannot believe it myself. Things seemed weird when I accidentally overhead his conversation with someone else, but I didn’t really think anything awful would happen until they left, and I sort of broke into his room to see what they were talking about.’ She paused, embarrassed at how bad it sounded. Going around and snooping in other people’s private rooms was not something she usually approved of. ‘He has got a gun and everything… I came across a whole file of info about you.’ She turned to Daniel Spitieri, her voice urgent. ‘Pictures, dates, schedules. I couldn’t believe it… We should contact the police, immediately.’

She should have realized by then
that things weren’t exactly what she’d thought. She should have noticed the inexplicable sense of calm, her revelation causing little, if any, surprise in the three men. But she was too worried and too scared to really pay attention to those little signs that should have tipped her off and saved her from drowning in what turned out to be her personal sea of misery.

‘We should call the police to search him
. They will find the gun and everything,’ she repeated helplessly, frustrated by the way Jon watched her from under hooded eyelids, silent and cautious.

‘Miss Bennett, or
may I still call you Melanie?’ The older man, who she recalled was Bernard White, smiled at her. His cordial smile gave her the uneasy feeling he knew her very well already. Which was impossible because she was sure they’d met only once. She knew instinctively he remembered their meeting, if only because of the piercing quality of his eyes. He looked like a man on his guard even when he acted friendly, a man who made it a habit to see everything around him, leaving nothing to coincidence.