When Sal died, Gio called Salvio to offer his condolences, but the little prick refused to speak to him. Now this phone call piqued his curiosity. Salvio had no business reputation at all, and as far as Gio knew, he wasn’t running any projects. But offering a piece of Verdu Mer would get Gio to drop everything and fly to Venice. His jet was fast, so it was only a ninety-minute flight from Palermo to Marco Polo Airport, and Gio wasn’t about to give Scortini time to change his mind.
During the flight, he called Drea, his favorite pilot, to meet him with her boat. The flight was uneventful, and after landing, Drea zipped them through the canals to the Scortini Palazzo. As he and Primo climbed the steps to the palace door, their eyes scanned for guards, cameras, or infrared sensors, but there was a bizarre lack of security. They shared a look of disbelief, but said nothing. Primo examined the ancient stone-and-brass horse-and-boat shaped doorbell before he reached up and gave the key a turn. Nothing could be heard from their side of the solid door, but an elderly butler let them in, and then showed them to Salvio’s office.
While Primo stood on guard just outside the office door, Gio waited in a chair in front of Salvio’s desk. Scortini popped up unexpectedly at his elbow, and Gio jerked out of his chair in surprise. He didn’t like the eerie look of pleasure Scortini attempted to suppress. Gio returned to his seat as watched Salvio swagger behind his desk and take a seat. He decided right then, Salvio would pay for that childish prank. He was lucky Gio didn’t have an itchy trigger finger. Was Salvio so stupid that he didn’t know not to surprise a Mafioso?
Scortini raised his chin and looked down his nose at him. Staring back, Gio got to the point.
“So what’s your involvement in Verdu Mer?” He looked at Salvio with no emotion. “My sources tell me that Count Verona’s the one in charge.”
“I was working with Verona on the project. But I’ve discovered that he’s a deviant, and his entire family is corrupt. The Pope has to distance the Vatican from the Veronas. They are a cancer we have to cut out. So if you’re interested, I’ll take you as my partner.”
Gio nodded. “You won’t regret bringing me in.”
“Your first responsibility as my partner is to kill Gabrieli Verona and make his body disappear forever.”
He watched Salvio pick up a gold drapery tie and wind it around his hand. Hmmm, so he kills his business partners? “This I can do.”
“No farming this out to goons. Take care of it personally.”
“I don’t work with goons.”
Salvio fondled the golden cord. “Every night at sunset he takes a walk along the Rio de la Verona near his home.”
“I assume he still has protection?”
“Sì, one bodyguard.”
“Not a problem.”
“Tomorrow night after you’ve completed this task, you’ll be my full partner at the helm of the biggest project in the history of Italy.”
Gio regarded Scortini levelly. “I have your word and you have mine. We only have trust between us. I like it that way. It makes the best partnership.” He extended his hand across the desk, and Salvio gave it a perfunctory pump.
“If you do exactly as I say,” Scortini stood up abruptly, “you’ll have the treasury of the Vatican at your disposal.”
“You don’t need to repeat yourself. I’ve given you my word.” Gio got up and left the office, Primo trailing silently behind him as they walked out of the gloomy palace.
At that moment, Raphielli released the switch on the listening control panel. She moved silently down the secret passage to her bedroom. Moments later Rosa arrived to prepare her body for the impending torture of her matrimonial duties. Raphielli arrived at a decision and set her mind at last. Odd, she thought, that she could endure her own suffering at the hands of her husband, but she would die before she’d allow him to harm another person. A feeling of calm settled over her as she resolved to save the Veronas. But, how could she send them a message without Salvio finding out? He’d be notified if she asked one of their staff to send a note. She didn’t have a cell phone, he’d locked up the house phones, and she wasn’t allowed to go out alone. She’d have to think of something before tomorrow night.
Thirty minutes later as Salvio performed his husbandly duties, he almost choked her to death when he yanked a golden drapery cord around her neck and throttled her as he climaxed. She lost consciousness before he shoved her off the table.
Early the next morning, Raphielli wore Marilynn’s scarf to cover the wound that encircled her neck. She was ready to save Count Verona’s life when the Dour Doublet accompanied her to Sunday Mass. All three of them were dressed in similar black crepe dresses with ballerina-length hems and sensible black shoes. Salvio insisted they escort her to and from church, and it was the only time she ever saw them. He’d made it clear that he didn’t want them in his home, and they’d been rebuked for being pushy, so they stopped inventing reasons to ask for invitations.
As she followed them into the Basilica di San Giovanni e Paolo, Raphielli paused to scan the crowd. It was critical that she accomplish this part of her plan without drawing any attention from her chaperones. They were always on Salvio’s side, and constantly nagged her to be a better wife. If she did anything out of the ordinary, they’d see it as an opportunity to ingratiate themselves to Salvio and rush to tell him. And that would be the pathetic ending to the story of her life.
She spotted Contessa Verona looking incredibly chic, wearing high-heeled shoes that Raphielli couldn’t imagine walking in. The contessa was seated on the aisle and chatting with people sitting around her. Raphielli announced to her mother that she needed to use the toilet, and before her mother could object, she dove into the crowded aisle where worshipers were bunching up at the ends of the pews attempting to find seats. Making her way along the aisle that would get her within earshot of the contessa, Raphielli began loudly clearing her throat to get her attention. When the contessa looked up, Raphielli mouthed, “Aiutami!” As the contessa stood up, Raphielli moved past her and whispered, “Follow me, I have an urgent message!” then slipped down the hall and into the bathroom.
Hovering in the busy vestibule near the sinks and mirrors, she fairly jumped when the contessa walked in. She pressed a piece of paper into the noble woman’s hand.
“Raphielli!” She spun around to see her mother looking irritated, and then glanced back to see that the contessa was reading her note. Trying to look innocent, Raphielli answered, “Coming, Mama,” and followed dutifully as her mother marched back out of the lavatory.
Raphielli made her way to a pew while listening to her mother’s tirade about lack of planning and bladder control. They were rejoined by her grandmother, who wore an expression of sour disappointment and grumbled, as usual, about Raphielli’s childless womb. As they took their seats, she watched the contessa walk back through the church, heading toward the door. She was holding her cell phone. Good.
Immediately after Mass, Raphielli and her chaperones moved forward with the crowd toward the confessionals. The moment she reached the head of the line, Contessa Verona stepped out of the last confessional and held the door for her saying quietly, “God be with you.” Once inside, she could see through the privacy screen that Cardinal Negrali was holding her note.
“Raphielli, tell me everything you know about your husband’s plan to kill Count Verona.”
“Oh, Father!” Trying to keep her voice low despite the urgency of the situation, the words gushed out. “Salvio hired a man named Petrosino. He’s a Mafioso from Sicily, and he agreed to Salvio’s plan to kill Count Gabrieli tonight. In return, Petrosino believes he’ll be made full partner with Salvio in the Verdu Mer project.”
“How do you know about this?” He asked.
“He’s been saying the most terrible things about Count Verona.”
“I know, he did so in front of the College of Cardinals.”
“Well, now he’s way beyond just talking.”
“Sì! But, I must know how you know
about Salvio’s plan.”
“I’ve been listening in on my husband’s private conversations.”
Negrali squinted through the screen at her. “May I ask how?”
“He’s bugged some rooms in our palazzo, and I found his listening booth.” Raphielli plunged on, “Also Salvio has private detectives working to find anything that could make the Pope prefer Salvio over the Veronas. He’s been trying to ruin them.”
“This I already know.” Negrali shook his head. “The Pope has called an inquest in Rome to make Salvio answer for his spying.”
“I’m so relieved that you believe me!” Raphielli let out a relieved breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “He met with Petrosino last night, and the don plans to kill the count tonight. Father, if you can keep Salvio away from our palazzo this afternoon, I’ll call Petrosino and tell him everything. Will you vouch for me if the don doesn’t believe me?”
“You mean expose Salvio as delusional?” Negrali hesitated. “You plan to tell this Mafioso that there is no chance Salvio will be given any part in Verdu Mer?”
“Sì, I’ll tell him the truth. Tell him Salvio’s promise of access to the Vatican treasury was a lie.”
“The audacity! I will ask the College of Cardinals to call Salvio to our chambers as soon as I leave here. We will try to keep him in questioning until we adjourn at five o’clock tonight. Will that be enough time for you?”
“If I can reach don Petrosino, it’ll be enough time. If I can’t find him, I’ll have to think of something else. At least the contessa will make sure the count doesn’t take his usual walk tonight.”
“You have extraordinary courage for such a young girl, Raphielli. But be careful.” Negrali’s voice was grave. “If Petrosino needs corroboration of your story, send him to the Little Church. The priests there can always find me, day or night.”
Raphielli tried to appear natural as she left the confessional, but she needn’t have worried about the Dour Doublet’s watchful eyes. They were too busy complaining about something to the woman who sold the prayer candles. They accompanied Raphielli home, and then walked off together when her butler, Dante, answered the door. Raphielli asked him where her husband was.
“Ah, signora, the College of Cardinals sent for him, and he left just moments ago.”
Wanting to keep her staff busy, she thought fast.
“Dante, where is Rosa?”
“Over on the Lido, it’s her day visiting her mother. Do you require anything?”
“Nothing from her that can’t wait. But I would like for you and Guiseppe to set up all of our patio furniture on the roof top.” The old wrought-iron patio furniture was an over-sized seating for twenty, including chairs, lounges, sofas, tables, and umbrellas. It would take them hours to get them out of storage, remove the tarps, move them into place, clean them properly, and set the cushions.
“Naturalmente, signora.”
It wasn’t a normal duty for either of them, but she knew it wasn’t in their nature to refuse her.
“Have it all set up on the west side of the rooftop patio, situated to provide a vantage for watching the setting sun.”
“It is unfortunate that we no longer have that beautiful rented furniture up there.”
“Sì, sì,” she agreed. “I know you’ll do your best to make it nice.”
Dante headed down the hall in the direction of the service elevator.
She hurried to the back hall and ducked behind the heavy tapestry that covered the secret passageway. Once inside, she moved in the direction of Salvio’s office, and then peeked from behind a tapestry panel. Relieved to find it empty, she rushed inside and straight over to Salvio’s desk. Flipping through his personal diary and telephone directory, she found nothing. Then, seeing her late father-in-law’s address book, she grabbed it from the corner of the desk and found the number she needed. With shaking fingers, she dialed the Mafia don.
A man answered in a smooth tone, “Pronto.”
Squeezing her eyes closed she stammered, “S-s-ignor Petrosino?”
“Sì.” The voice on the other end hesitated. “Who’s this calling from Scortini’s phone?”
Raphielli looked down at the bracelet she’d worn since she was a girl. It read: The truth shall set you free. “I’m Raphielli Scortini, Salvio’s wife, and I have to speak with you right away.”
“Oh?” The interest was apparent.
“Sì, per favore, but Salvio can’t know. I’m at home alone. Please come right away to the old water entrance under Il Ponte Diamanti. I’ll wait for you there.”
“I’m on the water not far away. I can be there in a few minutes.”
“Grazie, signore.”
“Prego, signora,” the voice answered pleasantly.
As soon as Gio hung, up he turned to Primo. “Something’s up. Scortini’s wife wants me to sneak back to his house to meet her alone.”
“His wife?”
“Yeah.” He got up and walked over to his favorite blonde badass who was piloting them through the canals. “Drea, change of plans. Take us to Palazzo Scortini right away.”
When he was in Venice, he always hired Drea as his driver. She was the best driver he knew, loyal, and had an intimate knowledge of the canals. And while her boat wasn’t showy, it was incredibly powerful. Gio settled back in his seat and tried to set aside his natural distaste for a wife going behind her husband’s back. He’d listen to what she had to say and keep an open mind. He thought back to the Scortini wedding photo that had been in all the papers. He didn’t remember the bride at all.
When Drea brought the boat up to Scortini’s water garage, Gio pointed toward the shadowy bridge off to the side. “Is that Il Ponte Diamanti?”
She nodded.
“Get me over there.”
The boat eased forward, bobbing in the chop from the passing boat traffic.
“Stay out of sight, and wait for me over by that moss-covered bridge farther up.” He climbed out of the boat and down the crumbling old ramp. Gio moved carefully down the broken steps that led under the decrepit bridge, and then along the slick walkway access tunnel under part of the palazzo. It was several degrees cooler down at the water’s edge, where the air smelled green and faintly of petroleum. He began inching into the blackness, wondering if this could be a trap. He reached inside his jacket pocket, took out his phone, and was about to dial Primo to come join him on this creepy mission when a frightened-sounding girl’s voice called out tremulously, “Don Petrosino?”
He flicked his finger across his phone, activating the flashlight.
She gave a startled cry and clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she brushed them away, blinking into the bright light.
He scanned the light over her from head to toe, then turned the glare away and pointed it at the stone ceiling above them, illuminating the oozing stalactites hanging from the cut stone.
Standing before him at a partially open door was a petite teenager who looked ready to burst into tears. She whispered, “I’m Raphielli Scortini.”
“Sorry I scared you. I was being quiet because you’d been so secretive on the phone. I’m Giancarlo Petrosino, you can call me Gio.”
“Your sudden bright light scared me almost to death, kind of like Salvio’s entrances.”
“He likes to play the fantasma. Very childish of him.”
Raphielli had the appearance of a lush gypsy girl. She was pale, with big dark eyes, dramatic brows, and a full mouth. Her raven hair was coiled tightly at her neck in a large bun, but it looked ready to tumble down into a riot of curls. She was wearing a cheap sack-of-a-dress that couldn’t hide her spectacular breasts and curvaceous hips. Around her neck was a green silk scarf that looked expensive and out of place with her cheap dress and clunky shoes. He offered his hand to steady her.
“One more step and you’re liable to fall into the water. We can’t stay under here. Where is Salvio?”
“He’s not
home,” She whispered.
“Let’s go back the way you came. Through that door, I take it?”
“I think I’ve gotten rid of the house staff...” She sounded uncertain.
“I’m not afraid of your house staff. Take me inside.”
She took his hand, and they went into the house. She whispered, “You’re right, Gio, Salvio likes to scare everybody.”
“Someone is gonna teach him a lesson.”
She gave him a doubtful look, and then said, “Please pull that door closed behind us. You have to pull hard, it sticks.”
She wasn’t kidding. The old frame must have settled, and he had to heave on it to get it to close. They were in total darkness now, apart from the beam from his phone. As they walked down the corridor, he placed one hand on her shoulder so he wouldn’t walk on her heels, and to help keep her calm. When they came to an interior door, Raphielli opened it, and light poured through the gap. She poked her head in, looked both ways, and then drew him into a hallway inside the palazzo.
“Stay close to me.” Now moving quickly, she scooted down a hall, and he stayed right behind her. They ducked into an abandoned corner room and closed the door behind them. Not bothering to offer him a seat, Raphielli whirled to face him and whispered in a rush, “Gio, we don’t have much time. I’ve called you here to tell you that Salvio can’t make you a partner in Verdu Mer.”
“Oh?”
“No, he’s not even part of that project. He’s been trying to distance Count Verona from the Vatican, he even hired private detectives to discredit him. But now he’s finally so desperate to gain control of Verdu Mer that he…” She clamped her lips together and put a hand over her mouth.
“It’s okay, Raphielli, tell me everything.”
“Well, I overheard him asking you to kill the count.”
Stealing Venice Page 23