Meet Me in Venice (22 page)

“And that’s where you’ve lived ever since.”

“I have a place in New York; an apartment on Gramercy Park.”

“The best of both worlds,” Preshy said, wondering why he was in Paris without his beautiful wife, Leilani. “Any children?” she asked instead.

“No kids.”

She refrained from asking why not, thinking of him returning to New York, and of Leilani waiting to greet him at JFK. “I guess you’ll be awfully glad to see her again,” she said.

He pulled off the road into an autoroute café. “Time for coffee,” he said.

Preshy let Maow out of her travel bag, waiting while she daintily used the litter box. Then she put the cat back in her case, and carried her into the café, where they lingered over coffee and their cheese and bread, talking about the Lily situation and not coming up with any answers.

Back in the car she said it was her turn to drive, and for the next two hours there was silence while she took charge and Sam dozed. Then the roles were reversed, until they stopped again and repeated the performance. Finally, they were on the Autoroute du Soleil, heading along the coast. When they passed the turnoff to St.-Tropez, Preshy called her aunt and they arranged to meet at Le Chantecler in Nice in half an hour.

T
HEY
arrived a few minutes early and took the opportunity to freshen up in the Negresco’s posh restrooms before Grizelda and Mimi arrived. Studying her face in the mirror, Preshy thought she looked okay considering she had driven all night and was in desperate need of a shower, though right now a glass of wine was even more appealing.

Leaving Maow in the care of the concierge, she and Sam made their way into Le Chantecler restaurant, where they ordered glasses of champagne.

She had warned Sam not to be surprised when he saw two old Las Vegas showgirls coming their way. Nevertheless, Sam’s eyebrows rose in surprise when Mimi strutted across the ornate gilt dining room, Riviera-smart in a pale pink wool suit and platform
shoes that made her still-fabulous legs look even longer. Her blond hair was sleeked back into a chignon and her rows of diamond bracelets glittered as she shook Sam’s hand.

“Enchantée,
M’sieur Knight,” she said, sinking with a heartfelt sigh into a chair. “Stilettos are a tall girl’s answer to a prayer, and a short girl’s best friend,” she added. “But they are surely hell on the feet.”

“There you are.” Grizelda slinked toward them in a clinging red dress with a little sable jacket that had belonged to her mother-in-law, and that she swore was older than she was. She was also carrying a beautiful white Valentino coat, which she handed to Preshy. “I knew you’d be wearing that green ‘horror,’ “ she said. “So I brought you this. It’ll be cold in Venice and you’ll need it.” She held out her hand to Sam. “I hear you picked up my girl in La Coupole.” Like her niece, Grizelda always got directly to the point.

Sam smiled. “Should I apologize?”

She considered him. “I don’t think so,” she decided finally. “Come, sit down. Oh, you’ve already got champagne, good.” She signaled the waiter and ordered two gin fizzes. “They know us here,” she confided to Sam. “They understand exactly how Mimi and I like them.” Then she turned to Mimi. “What d’you think, darling? Is he good enough for our girl?”

“Oh God! “
Preshy shrank back in her chair. “Would you please stop it, Aunt Grizelda!” she said, but Sam just laughed.

Mimi tasted her drink, turning to give the waiter a pleased thumbs-up. “So—what’s all this about Lily?”

“Let’s order, we’ll talk later,” Grizelda decided. “They’ve driven all night, they must be starving.”

They all decided on the same thing: the filet of beef with capers and potato ravioli, then cheese, and a quince tart with Granny Smith ice cream. With it they would drink a Provençal rosé.

“Now,” Mimi said when that was taken care of, “let’s get down to business.”

So Preshy told them the whole story again, and that Bennett was involved. “And that’s the reason I have to go back to Venice,” she finished. She looked warily at them, waiting for them to say she was the crazy one, but Grizelda frowned.

“I never told you before,” she said, “but I met the Songs years ago, at the casino in Macao. Henry had already lost his looks to drink and cigarettes. He looked gaunt and pasty and old. His eyes were permanently narrowed into slits from smoking, and his fingers were stained yellow from the nicotine.” She shuddered. “The man looked as though he lived under a stone, never seeing daylight or breathing fresh air. And his wife, poor Grandfather Hennessy’s spoiled-rotten daughter was wearing an unfashionable dress and cheap shoes. She looked worn out. She told me Henry Song had lost all their money, and I told her she should leave him. ‘Apologize to your father for running off with that playboy in the first place,’ I said. Of course her father would have taken her back but the poor woman was besotted with her husband. I could see he was some kind of a control freak. He had her under his spell,
and
he was addicted to alcohol as well as to gambling. And besides, they had the child by then. Poor little Lily.”

“That’s the other reason I have to meet her,” Preshy said. “Grandfather would have expected me to help her.”

Grizelda had to admit she was right. “But you’re going to have
to be very careful,” she said. “I don’t like the sound of this. Not one little bit.” She glanced sharply at Sam. “Can I trust you to take care of her?”

Sam’s eyes met hers. “I’ll do my best,” he said calmly.

She heaved a grateful sigh. “That’s all a man can do,” she said. “It’s a pity you don’t have the time to visit, I would have thrown a
petite soiree
for you, introduced you to some of my friends, though I must remind you, Preshy, never to drive the Corniche road when you come to Monaco. I haven’t driven it myself, since I was almost forced off the edge of the cliff by some madman. It was just after you and Bennett visited us,” she added, looking at Preshy. Then she clapped a hand over her mouth, embarrassed at having mentioned the past. “What am I saying? I’m sorry, my dear.”

“It’s okay, I’m over him,” Preshy said, still sounding a little uncertain about it.

Sam listened while Grizelda told him what had happened on the Corniche road. He asked if she’d reported the incident to the police and she said she had, a couple of days later when she’d gotten her nerves back together, but of course by then it was too late to try to trace the white van. And it had cost a fortune to fix the Bentley.

“And this was right after Bennett was here?”

“Bennett and Preshy had already left and flown back to Paris. He was going straight on to Shanghai. This incident occurred a couple of days later.”

“So as far as you knew he wasn’t in the country?”

Puzzled, Grizelda said she didn’t think so, and the subject was dropped.

Sam had managed to get them seats on the four o’clock Venice flight and they walked outside to say their goodbyes, leaving Maow with the aunts.

“Well?” Grizelda asked, her green eyes alight with curiosity as she hugged Preshy goodbye, while Sam went to get the car.

“Well—
what

“Ohh—
-you know”
Mimi said, exasperated.

“If you mean am I interested in him, the answer is no. We are two strangers passing in the night who happened to get acquainted, that’s all.”

“Then if ‘that’s all,’ what’s he doing here with you?” Mimi said. “In my opinion that shows some ‘interest.’ “

Preshy groaned. “Will you two stop with the matchmaking. He’s just a guy I know. And anyhow, he’s married.”

“What!” Two pairs of stunned eyed stared at her.

“You mean you didn’t notice the ring?”

“So where’s the wife?”

“I don’t know. In fact I don’t know much about him at all. I told you, we’re just like ships that pass in the night. He simply offered to come to Venice to help me with the Lily situation. And to tell you the truth I was kind of glad he did.”

“Hmmm . . . me too,” Aunt G said, thoughtfully, “though I do wonder why he did. Be careful this time, Preshy,” she added. And to her surprise, this time Preshy knew she meant be careful of Sam, not of Lily in Venice.

VENICE

I
T
was dark when they landed in Venice and Marco Polo Airport brought back a slew of memories of the last time Preshy had arrived there with Sylvie and Daria, carrying her beautiful wedding dress and the golden cape with the fur-trimmed hood, and of how elated she had been. And later, of the sad departure with her friends instead of with her new husband.

“I guess this brings back some difficult memories,” Sam said out of the blue.

“It does,” she admitted. “But I’m not going to think about it.” Still, she closed her eyes so as not to catch a glimpse of the illuminated dome of the Santa Maria della Salute as they passed.

“This place is a real live Canaletto,” Sam said.

She smiled. “Sometimes I wonder if he painted it first and they
built it after, it’s just so perfect. I forgot to ask,” she added, surprised at herself, “is this your first time in Venice?”

“My first, but looking at it now, it’s probably not my last.”

The
motoscafo
idled to a stop at the Bauer Hotel’s private embarcadère, the landing stage, where their luggage was whisked away and they were escorted inside.

The luxurious hotel overlooked the Grand Canal, and though impeccably refurbished, its salons and rooms were redolent of the romance of another era. They checked in—separate rooms and on different floors—everything very correct. Then Preshy told the desk clerk she was expecting to meet a Miss Song, who was also staying at the hotel, and asked if there were any messages for her. The clerk checked but there were none.

Sam said he wanted to see something of the city and was going out for a walk but to her surprise, he did not ask her to go with him.

In her room, lonely again, she drew back the curtains. And there across the Grand Canal was the Salute, its dome moonlike in the night sky. It seemed there was no escaping the past, after all, and saddened, she went off to drown her sorrows in the shower, where her tears mingled with the water. She wondered if the heartache would ever really end, and what Lily had to tell her about Bennett.

I
T
was already evening when Lily awoke from a deep sleep that left her unrefreshed. She glanced at her phone, then remembered she had turned it off and of course there were no messages. Sitting up, she glanced nervously around the darkened hotel room. She still didn’t feel safe, still felt as though eyes were watching her, still felt threatened, even though, logically, no one could possibly know where she was. Except for Cousin Preshy, who, she fervently hoped, was on her way to meet her.

A short while later, showered, dressed and hungry, she contemplated room service, but then told herself she was being ridiculous. She was in Venice, one of the wonders of the world, a city she had never seen. She had never even been to Europe before. At least she should see its glory and taste its food.

She walked through the narrow busy streets until she came to the Piazza San Marco with its magical views across the Grand Canal to the lagoon and its magnificent Basilica. Hearing music, she went inside, peering through the half-light at the beauty all around her. Then suddenly all the lights came on, flooding the great church with a golden glow. A mass was about to begin and she stood watching and listening, awed by its majesty, by the mosaics and the glitter of gold; by the Madonnas and the saints in their arched niches, the great altar, and by the soaring singing of the choir. All at once the shameful memories of those secret freezing nights in ancient burial grounds, and of the stolen artifacts, of the treachery and the violence, of threats and terror, left her. At that moment she felt a sense of peace and serenity that she prayed would stay with her forever.

After a while she left the Basilica and walked alongside the canal, thinking about the past, about all the years of striving to make a living, and about her future once she had sold the necklace. A whole new world would open up to her. She hoped Cousin Precious would get here soon because she wanted so badly to talk to her, not only about the necklace, but now about so many more things.

Turning down a narrow side street, she came across a small restaurant. Liking the look of its simple dark-wood interior, she went in and took a seat, ordering pasta with clams and a glass of white wine. Afterward, she lingered over an espresso, for once at peace with herself, sure at last that she was not being followed.

It was dark when she left and there was no one about. Quickening her pace, she made for the bigger street alongside the canal,
smiling when it came in view, gleaming under an almost full moon. She stopped to look, taking a deep wondering breath, admiring the silhouetted skyline with its domes and pinnacles and the dark water sliding silently past. This was something she would never forget.

The blow to the head took her completely by surprise. She cried out once, then lifted her hands. The warm blood trickled through her fingers. Suddenly all around her it was growing dark, it was as though the lights of Venice were being extinguished, one by one. The push to her back sent her staggering. She teetered on the brink, another push and she was in the canal. And then everything was black. The dark water closed over her head with barely a ripple.

A perfect murder.

R
ESTLESS
, Preshy decided to go for a walk. She flung on some clothes—jeans, a sweater, boots. It was cold out and she put on the winter white wool coat with the impressive label that Aunt G had given her.

She wrapped her long blue woolen muffler twice round her neck with the ends dangling almost to her knees, just the way she liked it, though no doubt her aunt would have said she was ruining “the line” of the expensive coat. Then she went downstairs and out the Bauer’s street entrance.

She wandered idly through the narrow
calli,
shivering in the icy night wind. Every corner brought back a memory. The very stones under her feet and the peeling stucco walls seemed to breathe romance. There was the scent of coffee and of wood fires, aromas of
pizza and bread and wine. The lit shop windows offered a million temptations, and everywhere there was the sound of water lapping eternally at the edges of the sinking city. It was like walking through history.