Stealing Venice

by Anna E Bendewald

  “So, Casimir, Giselle has brought Markus and his friends to stay with us. Apparently she feels strongly about using Markus’ window artistry for The Divine Concept house.”

  “Well then, I am eager to see the windows. Are these friends also Ukrainian?”

  “Sì, I believe so.”

  Casimir nodded.

  When they arrived at the palazzo, they learned they had just missed Vincenzo and the group. Gabrieli went to his room to change, but Casimir was diverted on his way to his suite by a glorious aroma coming from down the hall. He let his nose lead the way to the kitchen and found Juliette and a little dumpling-of-a-woman performing an energetic culinary pantomime, punctuated by superfluous bursts of Italian and Ukrainian. The women were engrossed in an earnest game of monkey-see-monkey-do, with Juliette doing her best to imitate techniques the sturdy little Ukrainian cook was demonstrating. She had just picked a steaming red pepper up by its stem when she noticed Casimir approaching. She cried out, “Svyata korova!” and dropped the pepper onto the tiled floor with a wet plop.

  Casimir inhaled deeply, puffed his chest out, and his eyes drift closed. In Polish he declared, “God has certainly saved you a place in heaven, woman! I am home at your side!” He then wrapped the little cook in a warm embrace. Gently rocking her, he murmured, “My dearest lady, please let me join you in cooking, and stay by your side as long as you are here with us.”

  As he released the little lady, the heels of her wooden shoes clacked sturdily back onto the floor. He hurried to a drawer for an apron as a maid cleaned up the fallen pepper.

  Juliette laughed and said, “Casimir, allow me to introduce Yvania Czerney. She came with her husband, Ivar, and Markus. They are our guests. Yvania, may I present Pope Leopold XIV.”

  Yvania stood in awed silence.

  Juliette grinned at him. “Oh! Casimir, you must taste the cabbage masterpiece that is in the oven!”

  He donned hot mittens and was pulling a big casserole out of the oven as Yvania admonished in Ukrainian, “Holy Father, it will be ready for tasting in one hour. Save the surprise, please.”

  Feeling like a stubborn little boy, he shook his head and answered in Polish. “No, sorry, I cannot wait. You have a different accent than Markus. Are you from the Caucasus Mountains?”

  Taking the big pan from him, she dished him a serving of her cabbage rolls. “Ah, of course. You must be hungry. Sorry, Holy Father. Yes, I am originally from the Caucasus Mountains. You have a good ear.”

  The rest of the afternoon was a dream come true for the three of them, who bonded instantly over Yvania’s food.

  As usual, Leonardo arrived at the palazzo in time to join the conversation in the lounge before dinner. He greeted the Pope first, “Santo Padre,” and bowed with quiet reverence. As always, he savored the feeling of grace emanating from the Pope. Gabrieli came over to make introductions.

  “Leonardo, we have the good fortune to welcome Ivar Czerney and his wife, Yvania, as our guests. Ivar is responsible for some of the most remarkable windows in Eastern Europe, and the sublime aromas from the kitchen are Yvania’s generous gifts.”

  Leonardo nodded to the older couple and smiled as Gabrieli introduced him. “Leonardo is part of our family, like a second son to us. He’s not only Vincenzo’s best friend, but his accountant—like a business partner.”

  “I’m happy to meet you,” Leonardo greeted the Czerneys.

  He noticed that when Yvania opened her mouth, Ivar deftly pulled her into a sideways hug as if to silence her. Ivar covered the maneuver by saying, “We are happy to meet you as well, Leonardo.”

  Yvania looked ready to burst. “I am happy also!” She seemed pleased with herself as she retreated over to where a deadly handsome man with honey colored skin and a shorn head was leaning on a credenza. She whispered something up to him.

  Gabrieli continued, “And Leonardo, this is Markus Shevchenko. He’s the artist who was working with Giselle on her Star Fall sculpture. He’s a world-class window artisan as well.”

  Leonardo squared his shoulders and planted his feet in front of Giselle’s lover. “Buonasera, Markus.”

  Markus straightened up and extended his hand. “It is good to meet you.”

  When Gabrieli moved off to get them drinks, Leonardo moved in to give Markus’ shoulder a squeeze. Under his breath he said, “What I’ve heard is true—you’re handsome, I’ll give you that. But if you hurt her, I’m not sure what I’m capable of.”

  “I respect that.” Markus nodded and whispered back, “I see she has two brothers.”

  “He is good man, I promise.” Yvania pushed close to join in the whispering. “And you are so handsome, too!”

  Disarmed by the little woman, Leonardo laughed and let her reach up to pinch his cheeks.

  Giselle came to him and took his arm, leading him over to the window for some privacy. “I promise you, you don’t have to worry about me. It’s V who needs your attention.”

  He agreed, “Sì, he’s convinced himself that he’s used you cruelly. He’s really torn up over it.”

  “Oh, that’s such rubbish.”

  “So, you’re staying here at the family palazzo. Not much chance of you getting alone time with Markus.”

  “I know. I figured that out on my arrival when Nigella helped me change clothes. She’s so excited to have me back, she keeps following me every time I leave a room.”

  “Give your maid a break, she’s trying to anticipate anything you need. She’s finally got her mistress back under the roof.”

  “Leo, I’m surprised how quickly I got used to being sexual. I don’t know how you and V kept from losing your minds for so long.”

  “We were both born patient. And when patience wore thin, we got creative.” He gave her a devilish grin and a little punch on the arm.

  They walked back to the rest of the group and joined the conversation about the highly anticipated dinner menu.

  Salvio was doing his best to preserve the condition of his clothes. God would free him from this prison any time now, and he didn’t want his suit to attract unwanted attention during his escape. He couldn’t tell if it was day or night outside, but that didn’t bother him. Now that his bouts of veleno-induced agony had subsided, his schedule of cleaning his clothes and his body, plus eating and exercise, kept him busy. He felt calm and purposeful. When God was ready to free him, he’d rely on his instincts, which he knew wouldn’t fail him.

  Once he’d pried the iron grate loose from its fastenings, his inspection of the fissure below hadn’t taken long. He’d been prepared to lower himself into the blackness to investigate it as an escape route, but after throwing some food down, he could tell by the sounds that they were only falling about thirty feet before becoming wedged in the rock. It was likely he was being held near Petrosino’s main Mafia operations, so he was probably in Sicily. And if he was very near where that dog operated, he was probably in Palermo.

  He was thinking about escape options, when the screeching lock interrupted his reverie. He dropped the grate back into place and threw himself to the floor, quickly yanking up his pant cuffs to put his bulging ankles on display. When the jailor entered, he would illustrate how painful it was to sit up. But when Petrosino stepped through the door, Salvio’s instincts told him to stay down. Ah! So it isn’t that stupid servant. I need to be careful, here.

  Petrosino leaned against the wall looking at him, and someone Salvio didn’t recognize stood guard in the hallway. The young man had a pitiless expression and features that resembled Petrosino’s. So this is his son. Salvio’s anger flared. Was he the only man on earth without a son? Why was God testing him to such extremes? Petrosino’s son was holding a gun pointed straight at him. Salvio put on an expression of stupid confusion and let his eyelids slide to half-mast.

  “Oh, come now,” Petrosino coughed out a laugh. “You can drop the helpless moth-on-a-pin act. I know what kind of cunning maniac you are, Scortini. And the truth is, I admire the first trait in a busines
s partner. But the second one makes you useless to me.”

  Salvio squinted and kept looking dumb, hoping this profane criminal would divulge some information—specifically where his plan had gone wrong. And how had he gotten into Salvio’s office?

  Petrosino ran his tongue across his upper lip, and he relaxed against the wall a bit more. “I’d have come sooner, but…I’m gonna be blunt here…I think you’re a piece of shit...and I don’t like being around shit.”

  Salvio’s pulse roared in his head and he felt his eyes bulge. No one had ever spoken to him like this. Unable to simply lie down and take it, he rolled onto his side, transitioned to his feet, and began pacing the far side of the cell. But he stayed silent, and the gun stayed trained on his head as he moved.

  The Mafioso went on. “Seeing as how with our handshake we’re partners, I want to make absolutely sure that you see where I’m coming from…where you are concerned.”

  Instead of being tricked into lashing out and getting shot for his trouble, Salvio didn’t respond. He clenched his lower belly and his sphincter, and had to press the root of his tongue into the back of his throat to get a hold of himself from the inside.

  “Back when your father died, I came up to Venice to pay my respects, and to inquire whether you were open-minded about a partnership. You refused to show me the basic courtesy of meeting with me. Your father and your grandfather had been respectful to me and to my family over the years. True, they were never interested in working with us, but they were gentlemen and treated us as such. So when you suddenly entered into a partnership with me, I made some inquiries in the building fraternities of Venice. And, well, they can’t stand you either. Without exception, the consensus in the Venetian building community is that you are obnoxious, sanctimonious, a poor businessman, and a patent thief who has anger issues. Now, after your boorish demands, attempt to manipulate me, and engineer a possible life-sentence for my son, I have to say that I agree with the Venetian building brotherhoods.”

  Despite the fact that this scumbag criminal was trying to inflame him, Salvio had the strangest sense that he was finally hearing a truthful account of opinions he’d suspected since he was a child. This sensation was immediately followed by the certainty that he would make everyone in the Venetian building community pay for their ill-formed opinions of him. But then again, how could he expect anything else from the jealous mewing of common workers?

  Gio straightened up and brushed off his jacket sleeves.

  “So, I don’t know when I’ll pay you another visit.” He turned to leave, and tipped his head toward the grate in the floor. “But feel free to attempt spelunking your way to freedom.” And then with the clank of the door and screech of the lock, the Mafia dog and his gun-toting son were gone.

  CHAPTER

  17

  The morning Raphielli became the legal owner of her building, she went to the Brotherhood of Ironworkers headquarters to meet Signor Tosca, who had invited her for a visit. She settled into a chair in front of his desk, and liked the look of him immediately. He reminded her of the nice priest who’d been her Catechism instructor when she was little.

  “Signora Scortini, I haven’t seen you since your wedding.”

  “Please call me Raphielli,” she smiled.

  “Grazie. And I’d like you to call me Genero.”

  “Genero it is, then.”

  “My dear Raphielli, I believe the Brotherhood owes you a secret debt of gratitude, one that we can never repay.”

  “Well, I know I can’t apologize for another person, but I am so sorry for what… well…for what…”

  “Sì, you cannot apologize for him, but you reversed his efforts effectively enough. We have our patents back where they belong.” He returned her smile and continued. “I understand that you are a property owner now, and have plans to turn your new building into a shelter for women.”

  “You know a lot.”

  “Don’t let that surprise you, Raphielli. There’s nothing to do with real estate in Venice that we don’t know. I’ve asked you here to offer our services to make your building not only a thing of beauty, but also a secure place for women.”

  “I’d hoped that was why you asked me here.” She was relieved and excited. “How much will it cost? What do you need from me? When can the work begin?”

  “We don’t need a thing from you. Your master contractor is already on board, and every one of our members is making your job their top priority. We’ll move heaven and earth to get you up and running before you know it.”

  “I have the keys here in my purse.” She fished inside her little crocheted bag.

  He chuckled. “We don’t need keys, my dear.” He glanced down at his watch. “Your front and back doors have already been removed to make way for the necessary interior demolition, and the old plumbing is being removed as we speak.”

  “That’s incredible!”

  “We take our debt seriously and don’t even try to pay us, we won’t accept any money from you. It’s our honor to take care of everything including your permits, and we’re offering generous gifts to your neighbors to calm them during the mess.”

  “Grazie.” Then she couldn’t help but ask, “Genero, since you know what happens in Venice, may I ask why the Brotherhood allowed Salvio to go on bragging about Verdu Mer when he didn’t have a thing to do with the project?”

  “Ah, that’s a very perceptive question, Raphielli. Well, while we know everything there is to know about building in Venice, we have only a general understanding of the relationship between the House of Scortini and the Pope.”

  “Sì, Salvio’s father, Salvatore, had been very close to the Pope.”

  “God rest his soul.” He crossed himself. “And Salvio’s grandfather, Savadore, was an intimate of the Pope as well. We have benefitted from the House of Scortini’s relationship with the Vatican, and it was a puzzle to us how Salvio was included, if at all.”

  “So you couldn’t discount that Salvio may have been given a special role in Verdu Mer…”

  “We didn’t want to alienate him in case he ended up with some authority in the project.”

  “I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m embarrassed for him.”

  “Oh my lord, don’t be.” He waved his hand in alarm.

  Then he looked her over, and from his expression, she could tell he was censuring himself, and his change in demeanor tempted her to fidget.

  “Is there something else?” she asked.

  “Well, if you’ll forgive me, may I say something that is well-intentioned?”

  “Um, of course.” She smoothed her scarf with nervous fingers.

  “May I recommend that you go shopping and buy some new clothes?” His eyes moved to her bag. “And a proper purse.”

  “Oh, all right.” Her face was suddenly hot with embarrassment.

  “There’s certainly nothing wrong with what you’re wearing, but you’re a business woman now, and should wear clothes that communicate that.”

  “I hadn’t thought about that.”

  “If you just go see Evelyn,” he was jotting information down on a slip of stationary, “at Coin Excelsior department store…she’s in the women’s department and will help you pick out some business apparel. She selects all of my wife’s clothing.”

  “That would be great.” She took the paper, but couldn’t imagine actually going to find this Evelyn.

  “Would you like to come with me and see what we’re doing at your building now? You can meet your contractor.”

  “Oh, sì!” She followed him out of his office and into the chilly morning sunshine.

  Autumn advanced and Venice grew chillier by the day as the little orange building first disappeared behind scaffolding and then reappeared. From the first day at the new building, it was apparent the workers enjoyed working for Raphielli. They repaid her secret patronage by working around the clock with the utmost efficiency, swiftly remodeling the old palazzo into a modern women’s shelter. Plumbing was replaced i
n record speed, and within a week a good-sized portion of the shelter was habitable for employees, women, and children.

  Mayor Buonocore introduced Raphielli to Kate, the local Women’s Health Bureau Chief, who enjoyed a reputation of equal parts dedicated public servant and brilliant politician. Kate was extremely capable, and used to being deluged with the need for public assistance on a shoestring budget. So having a major patroness appear in the form of the rich and beloved Scortini family, Kate struck while the iron was hot—or the philanthropic endowment was hot, as it were. The busy Bureau Chief cleared her schedule to assist Raphielli with staffing and appointments for a board of physicians, and worked alongside the mayor to fast track the necessary government approvals for the shelter.

  Raphielli, the mayor, and Kate all agreed that the need for this live-in resource was so urgent, they would begin staffing and housing women and their children in batches as sections of the building became ready. Women in the most critical situations were able to move in and get assistance as the paint on the first section was drying.

  Raphielli named her shelter Porto delle Donne—Women’s Safe Harbor—and worked alongside Kate fourteen to eighteen hours every day. They had no problem ignoring the noise and dust of ongoing construction, and Kate quit her bureau position to accept Raphielli’s generous offer to head the shelter. They had taken in their first residents, some of whom brought children with them, and their first resident staffers had moved in as well. Raphielli often had to be pushed out the door after working all night. She’d go home for a few hours, and after freshening up, return to the energetic haven that the women’s shelter had become. Raphielli had never been so tired in her life, nor so deeply fulfilled. Now that she was a regular dinner guest of the mayor and his wife, and spending Saturdays with Juliette, her life felt full. It was as if she’d discovered family she’d never known, and she thought of the Vitalis as brothers whom she worried about. They sent flowers congratulating her on her endeavor with a card signed, “Your admirers.” She was also playing word games with them on her phone.