She had gifted him with a new set of Montblanc fountain pens. And she’d had a very large black-and-white photograph of him and a newborn Clare printed and framed. The picture was so beautiful it made Julia’s heart ache.
“Open it.” Gabriel repeated.
She slipped her finger under the envelope’s flap and stuck her hand inside. She retrieved a paper palm tree.
“Paper dolls?” she asked.
“No.” Gabriel chuckled and turned the palm tree around so she could see what was printed on the other side.
Miami.
“I’m taking you and Clare on a holiday. We’re staying in South Beach, overlooking the ocean. Merry Christmas.” He appeared very pleased with himself.
Julia looked down at the palm tree. “I’ve never been to Miami.”
“It’s warm, there isn’t any snow, and the food is exceptional. We’ll be able to take Clare for walks in the sunshine and dig our toes into the sand. A true vacation.”
She hugged him around the waist. “I’m shocked. I had no idea you were planning a trip.”
“My first choice was Hawaii, but I thought that might be too long a flight for Clare. I’ve had it with winter, Julianne. If I don’t see the sun soon, I’m going to lose it.”
Julia resisted the urge to laugh. “We’ve had snow less than a month.”
“I want to put some distance between us and Cambridge. I booked flights for January second from Philadelphia. We’ll be gone two weeks.”
“What about Rebecca? What about the house?”
“I invited Rebecca to join us, but she decided to extend her visit with her children. She’ll meet us back in Massachusetts.”
“And the house?”
“Still waiting to see if the intruder makes his move. The security company is monitoring everything; they’ve installed cameras, motion detectors, and a double-relay system, so the alarm can’t be bypassed outside. I also spoke with Leslie. She’s been keeping an eye on things for us and will continue to do so.”
Julia met Gabriel’s gaze. “When we get back, will we return to the house?”
Gabriel’s expression shifted. “Let’s talk about it in Miami. Jack’s friend is still pounding the pavement, trying to find the thief. And Leslie is very attentive. She may be the best security system we have.”
“I don’t have any summer clothes with me. And I don’t have summer clothes for Clare.”
“You can buy bikinis and shorts in Miami.”
“Bikinis? Gabriel, I just had a baby. And I had a c-section.”
“Four months ago.” His gaze dropped to her chest and lower down. “You look great.”
“You are such a man.” She shook her head.
“I apologize for nothing. I’m only irritated we have a house full of family and the walls aren’t soundproofed.”
“I bet the closet is soundproofed.” Julia looked over his shoulder.
Gabriel turned the flamingo so it was facing the opposite direction of the closet. Then he lifted Julia into his arms and fairly ran into the closet, closing the door behind them.
“Let’s find out, shall we?” His mouth descended to hers.
Chapter Fifty-Three
January 7, 2013
South Beach, Florida
Just as the Emersons were preparing to leave their hotel suite for the pool, Gabriel’s cell phone rang.
He glanced at the screen. “It’s a FaceTime call from Vitali. I’d better take it.”
“We’ll be at the Center Pool.” Julia kissed her husband and pushed Clare in the stroller toward the door.
“Why not use our private pool, on the balcony?”
“Because there will be other mothers and children at the Center Pool. Clare might make a friend.”
“Right. I’ll find you shortly.”
Gabriel moved to the desk in their suite and answered the call. “Massimo, hello.”
“Good afternoon,” Dottor Vitali responded in Italian. He gestured to the dark-haired woman who sat next to him, wearing a very smart red suit.
“Professor Gabriel Emerson, I want to introduce you to Dottoressa Judith Alpenburg. She recently joined us from Stockholm and she is the expert on religious objects at Palazzo Pitti.”
“Pleased to meet you, Dottoressa.” Gabriel nodded, reaching for his glasses.
“And you. Please call me Judith,” she answered, her Italian lightly accented with Swedish. “I examined the memento mori you sent to us. It’s an exciting find.”
“Thank you, Judith.” Gabriel put on his glasses and quickly retrieved a notepad and his fountain pen. “Can you tell me more about it?”
“Certainly.” She put on a pair of white gloves and presented the small sculpture against a black velvet background. “This piece is very interesting. We tested the material, taking care not to damage the object, and discovered it is carved from elephant ivory. I would place the date of the object at about 1530. I will come back to the date in a moment.”
She turned the object over. “As you can see, along the collarbone of the head, we have an inscription in Latin, O Mors quam amara est memoria tua, which I would translate as O Death, how bitter is your memory. Do you recognize the quotation?”
“I don’t.”
“The quotation is from Scripture. This is the first line of Ecclesiasticus forty-one, which in the Vulgate begins, ‘O Mors quam amara est memoria tua.’”
“Interesting.” Gabriel resolved to look up the passage later.
“Similar items are on display in various museums, including the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. And the Victoria and Albert Museum in London has several excellent examples.
“In my opinion, your carving is of high quality. There are a lot of details, as you can see. Worms and toads are figured over the head. The face has an open mouth with exposed teeth, and there are folds of fabric covering the head. Leaves have been carved into the lower part of the object and it sits on a small circular pedestal. There is some damage to the piece—a crack in the head. But it is still a valuable and rare item. Certainly, one we would be proud to display.”
“Can you tell me anything about the provenance?”
Judith smiled eagerly. “Yes, this is very exciting. The object, which I believe to be a bead, has been pierced vertically, so it could be suspended from a chaplet—rosaries or prayer beads are more common terms for this. There is a maker’s mark on the bottom of the bead, which you can see.” She lifted the figure and revealed the bottom. “When I saw the mark, I realized I had seen it before. So I went through the items we have at Palazzo Pitti, but I didn’t find the same mark. However, when I went to Palazzo Medici Riccardi, I found something interesting.”
Judith placed a large photograph next to the bead. “In the Palazzo Riccardi museum, there is this chaplet that belonged to Alessandro de’ Medici, who was Duke of Florence from 1532 to 1537. Alessandro was thought to be of African heritage, which means that he was the first African head of state in the modern West. The chaplet was in his possession when he died and it eventually became part of the museum’s collection.
“However.” Judith’s blue eyes lit up with excitement. “As you can see from the photograph, the chaplet is missing a bead. In fact, it’s missing the largest bead at the end. I spoke with the archivist at the museum and he was unable to find a record of a missing bead. The chaplet came to the museum without it.
“But he pointed me to a letter written by Taddea Malaspina, Alessandro’s mistress, and she mentions the bead going missing. It was lost, until you sent it to us.”
Both Judith and Massimo smiled giddily through the screen.
“How do you know the bead I sent is the missing one?” Gabriel leaned closer to his cell phone, trying to get a better look at the photograph of the chaplet.
“The maker’s mark matches the mark on the opposite end of t
he chaplet. The carvings and designs on the chaplet are identical to those on your bead. There’s a repeated pattern.” Judith took her finger and moved from the bead to the photograph, carefully pointing out the similarities.
Gabriel frowned. “Wasn’t Alessandro murdered?”
“Yes,” Dottor Vitali interjected. “He was assassinated by his cousin Lorenzino. Of course, now that we know your bead matches the chaplet at Palazzo Riccardi, I’m sure the director will contact you.” Dottor Vitali smiled hopefully.
“Yes, of course.” Gabriel was distracted, still trying to process what had just been revealed. “Massimo, why was Alessandro assassinated?”
“There are several theories. In my opinion, Lorenzino assassinated his cousin for revenge.”
“Revenge?” Gabriel’s eyebrows instantly shot up.
“Lorenzino was a friend of Filippo Strozzi. Alessandro tried to assassinate Strozzi and failed. Strozzi persuaded Lorenzino to kill Alessandro in revenge. But this is my opinion. There are other explanations.”
“Did you discover anything about the more recent provenance of the object?”
“No.” Judith glanced over at Massimo. “We were hoping you could help with that.”
“I’m afraid I can’t. The bead was found on my property in Cambridge. I contacted Interpol, through a friend, but the bead wasn’t listed in their database of stolen artwork.”
Dottor Vitali tapped his fingers on the table in front of him. “We can make discreet inquiries.”
“I’d appreciate that, my friend. Since I’m not sure who the rightful owner is, I’d be grateful for any assistance in locating him or her.”
Judith appeared disappointed, but she didn’t comment.
“Certainly, we can help.” Massimo’s tone was reassuring.
“Thank you. Judith, it was a pleasure meeting you. Thank you for your research. I’m very grateful.”
Judith inclined her head respectfully. “Thank you, Professor Emerson. It’s a wonderful piece and I hope, if I may, that the piece can be reunited with the chaplet someday.”
“Give my best to Julianne.” Massimo artfully redirected the conversation.
“I will. Speak to you again soon. Good-bye.” Gabriel signed off FaceTime quickly.
He pulled out his laptop, entered his password, and quickly pulled up an online edition of the Latin Vulgate. He scrolled through the book of Ecclesiasticus, commonly known as the book of Sirach, and found the verse from which the inscription on the memento mori had been taken.
“O death, how bitter it is to remember you for someone peacefully living with his possessions, for someone with no worries and everything going well and who can still enjoy his food!”
Gabriel scrubbed at his face. The purpose of a memento mori was to call to mind one’s mortality. But the Scripture contrasted the bitterness of mortality with the peaceful life of a prosperous man.
Something about the Scripture reminded him of a reference in Dante. It took a few minutes of searching for Gabriel to find it, but in the first canto of Inferno he read,
“Tant’ è amara che poco è più morte;
ma per trattar del ben ch’i’ vi trovai,
dirò de l’altre cose ch’i’ v’ho scorte.
So bitter is it, death is little more;
But of the good to treat, which there I found,
Speak will I of the other things I saw there.”
Gabriel leaned back in his chair, removed his glasses, and closed his eyes.
Dante was referring to the dark wood he’d entered midway through his life. The memory of the wood was itself bitter, just like the bitterness of the memory of death.
But the Scripture was a caution to those living in prosperity. And Gabriel knew that he was among them.
Coupled with the symbolism of the Scripture, there was the provenance of the object itself. It had belonged to a man killed for revenge.
Is the object a message? he wondered. And if I’m being warned or targeted for revenge, why?
Chapter Fifty-Four
Julia was in love with Miami.
Hotel Estrella in South Beach had several pools. Families favored the Center Pool, which boasted an ocean view, daybeds, and cabanas.
Julia made herself at home on a double chaise longue underneath an umbrella and brought Clare to the side of the pool. They both wore hats and sunglasses. Julia dunked Clare’s feet in the water and she kicked happily.
Julia had just ordered a frozen drink from an obliging waiter when Gabriel came striding down the deck.
He was wearing sunglasses and a black Adidas jacket, along with black swim trunks. Julia noticed that several heads turned as he walked toward her.
“Hi.” He crouched next to them and gently tugged Clare’s sunhat. “Do you like the water?”
Clare reached for him and he pretended to bite her fingers, making a growling noise. Clare shrieked and giggled, putting her hand out so he would do it again.
“Do you mind if I take a quick jog on the beach?” Gabriel asked Julia. “I need to clear my head.”
“Are you okay?” Julia lowered her sunglasses.
Gabriel kept his eyes shielded. “Yes. Massimo had an update about the sculpture we found at the house. Nothing urgent. I’ll update you when I come back.”
“I ordered a virgin margarita. Do I need to change my order?”
The edges of Gabriel’s lips turned up. “No. I’ll be back soon.” He deposited his jacket and his sandals with Julia before tugging Clare’s hat again.
He waved just before he descended the staircase that led to the beach, leaving Julia to ponder what had left him so disquieted.
* * *
Gabriel ran.
He kept close to the waterline, enjoying the sounds and rhythm of the surf, his mind thousands of miles away in Florence, Italy.
The memento mori came from the Medici. In itself, it was a wondrous find. But how did the piece come to be in the possession of a thief? And why had he left it in Gabriel’s house?
Professional art thieves sold their goods to collectors; they rarely kept them. A bead from a chaplet was a strange piece for a thief to have in his pocket, unless it was resting there for a purpose.
Revenge.
Gabriel quickly rejected the notion that he was being targeted for revenge. Yes, he’d offended his share of people over time, including disgruntled students and jealous colleagues. And no doubt his face had been plastered on more than one woman’s dartboard, although he had been discreet with his liaisons and had tried to restrict them to women who understood the temporary nature of their connection.
There was Professor Singer, for example. But she was in Toronto and he doubted she’d hired a professional thief from Italy and asked him to leave a death threat in his house. That wasn’t her style. Professor Singer would deliver any and all threats personally.
And there was Paulina. But she was happily married and living in Minnesota. They’d made peace and he believed she wished him well. Again, she had no cause for revenge, at least not now.
As for the thief’s possible connection to Italy and perhaps to Florence, Gabriel couldn’t imagine what he’d done to attract the ire of a Florentine. He’d been a lover of Italian history, literature, and culture for years and had supported the museums of Florence with generous donations.
Nicholas Cassirer’s parents had sold him the Botticelli illustrations. But they were reproductions of Botticelli’s originals, likely done by one of his students. Perhaps there had been other interested parties who would know now that Gabriel was the successful buyer. But to come after him now, after so many years, seemed unthinkable.
A piece of the puzzle was missing. Without it, he couldn’t see the whole picture. Without it, he couldn’t be sure of the thief’s motives for anything. All Gabriel had were theories and hypotheses, seve
ral of which might fit.
He turned around and jogged back toward the hotel.
The best possible outcome was that the thief was scoping out Gabriel’s collection and that the sculpture had been dropped accidentally. If the motive were revenge, and if Gabriel truly was the target, the thief could have killed him inside the house and Julianne wouldn’t have been able to stop him. As it was, the thief had used only enough force to get away. He’d seemed entirely uninterested in Julianne and Clare, and for that Gabriel thanked God and would continue to do so.
What if he returns?
This was the question that plagued Gabriel—and in addition to it, the possibility that the thief would return while Julianne and Clare were in the house and Gabriel was in Scotland. That possibility was the stuff of night terrors.
Julianne’s nemesis had a name and a face. Thanks to Nicholas Cassirer, Gabriel had a man following and reporting Simon Talbot’s every move.
Gabriel’s new nemesis was nameless, unidentifiable, and amorphous. His motives were indecipherable, his actions confusing, which made him far more threatening.
The new nemesis provided one more reason why Julianne should demand to go to Scotland in the fall. Gabriel still had the email he’d drafted to the University of Edinburgh. In less than a minute, he could decline the invitation and ensure that he and his family remained safe and together.
As he ascended the staircase to the hotel pool, Gabriel recalled Katherine’s warning.
Although he valued his career and would be sorry to throw it away, it was better to risk a career than the safety of his wife and child. He’d already lost one daughter, long ago. He wasn’t about to lose another.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Did you ever read Treasure Island?” Julia was sitting on the edge of the pool, her legs suspended in the water.
“Years ago. Why?” Gabriel stood in the shallow end, swirling Clare in circles and dipping her in and out of the water. She seemed to enjoy it.
Gabriel's Promise (Gabriel's Inferno) Page 22