For a minute there I’d forgotten that the general was in mourning. He was so stoic. I patted his arm and said, “She was a delightful young woman. And extraordinarily beautiful.”
“Thank you,” said the general. “She was, wasn’t she?”
“In fact, I have pictures of her on my camera. If you would you like to choose some, I’ll have them printed and sent to you.”
“That would be very kind.”
We were all looking at pictures of Paolina when the chemists finally got out of the meeting and joined us in the bar. That’s when I realized that someone was going to have to tell Sibyl that her husband was not only in the hospital with a fractured skull, but also that he had committed two murders. I let the general do it. He’d only gotten as far as the fractured skull when she burst into tears and threw herself into Jason’s arms.
It was at that moment that my jealousy of Sibyl ended. My husband looked completely flummoxed. He stared at her in dismay, this woman who, because she was much taller than he, was putting a crick in her neck in order to cry on his shoulder. Then he turned to me with the most helpless look. If ever a man needed rescuing, Jason was that man. I wouldn’t have chosen myself for the job, considering that I was more or less responsible for Hank’s condition, but Sibyl didn’t know that. She hadn’t heard a quarter of the story. I pried her gently away from my husband, murmuring sympathetically, patting her on the back, providing tissues, and suggested that she’d want a cab so that she could go straight to the hospital to be with Hank.
She was very grateful and went along with me to the desk and then downstairs to the entrance where the cab pulled up much more promptly than the ambulances had. I helped her in, handed her a whole pack of travel Kleenex, and sent her on her way. I suppose I should have prepared her for the double-murder part of the story, but there were police there to guard him. She’d hear. And after all, I had been one of his intended targets. How much more could be expected of me?
On returning upstairs to the bar, I discovered that in my absence my husband had been apprised of my adventures and was very upset. “You weren’t even supposed to leave the hotel, Carolyn,” he said reproachfully. “I didn’t even know you were gone. Why would you ignore the general’s specific orders and—”
“I didn’t know about the general’s orders,” I interrupted. “Hank said he had permission. And I really did want to go to Capri. How was I to know Hank planned to toss me off a cliff and let the tide wash me up on the island? I was expecting to take a boat.”
“For shame, Professor,” Albertine scolded. “Do not upset your wife when she has had such a trying day. I am distraught myself, and I only helped with the delivery of the babies. Poor Carolyn did that after surviving a terrifying attack on her life and a very dangerous auto trip back to Sorrento with a murderer and a woman in labor.”
Jason looked embarrassed. Adrien asked, “What babies are these that you and our good Carolyn helped to deliver?” an incredulous smile on his lips.
“My grandchildren,” trilled Violetta, fluttering up to the group and linking her arm through the general’s. She leaned forward to drop kisses on my cheek and Albertine’s. “How can we thank you? Such beautiful babies. And to have them on a chaise longue with you kindly ladies in attendance.” Then she rifled through her handbag and lifted out hospital photos of the newborns, who looked as newborns usually do, red-faced and wrinkled. “Aren’t they adorable?” she asked the general.
He looked sadly at the pictures. “They are indeed, Signora. You are a lucky woman. Now that my Lucia is gone, I can never hope to welcome grandchildren into the world. Signora Blue, perhaps you would be so kind as to show Signora Massoni the picture of my lovely daughter, the one you took in the Piazza Tasso.”
My camera and the baby pictures were passed around the ever-widening circle—Agents Marsocca and Loppi had joined us, not to mention Lieutenant Flavia Vacci, who was cooing over the twins. Violetta squeezed the general’s arm again and said, “You poor, dear man. To lose such a beautiful daughter. It is so tragic. But you shall share my adorable grandchildren. You must come to visit us, once we are all back in Rome.”
Valentino told the general that he had loved Paolina to distraction and would have been a happy man could he have called the general father-in-law. Then he offered to take everyone out to dinner at the expense of Ricci Chemicals. The general confused him by advising him that he should be looking for work rather than spending company money that might soon belong to the government.
After that, we all walked down the hill to a restaurant recommended by Violetta. She had eaten there with an admirer during this visit. The food was wonderful, as was the ambiance—all lattices and trailing vines in the dining room, which was reached by a wide staircase from the first floor. I felt much more cheerful, especially since Jason said no more about my misadventures.
Epilogue
Carolyn
Jason was already in bed when I finished my preparations to retire. “Why don’t you open the curtains so we can see the night sky and the volcano,” he suggested as I draped my robe over a chair. I padded barefoot to the balcony doors to draw the drapes and then the sheers back. The night was so beautiful. The afternoon clouds had lifted, and the moon shone so brightly that I could see its light glimmering on the water below, while the shadow of Vesuvius loomed against the night sky. The Amalfi Coast, the Bay of Naples, they had to be the most beautiful places in the world. Not that I’d have cared to be tossed into those lovely waters.
I turned away and climbed into bed beside my husband. “Guess what?” I said.
“What?” he murmured sleepily.
“I forgive you for spending all that time with Sibyl.”
Jason sat bolt upright and said indignantly, “Carolyn, she’s a colleague, not a—a girlfriend. Did I get jealous because you spent so much time with Hank? At least Sibyl wasn’t a murderer.”
I was laughing, but said, “You never know. She might have been in on the container-for-heroin scheme.”
“What scheme are you talking about?” Jason asked, looking down at me.
Poor man, he didn’t know the half of what I’d discovered. “I think I’ll go with you to France after all. Albertine’s not so bad, and presumably we won’t see anything of Charles de Gaulle.”
“Right,” said Jason, lying down again, “and you won’t want to miss the Albigenesian Heresy or whatever it is.”
“I’m afraid it’s over, Jason,” I said giggling. “Just a distant, but painful memory.”
“No more storming castles and autos-da-fé in the street? That’s good to know. And I have to say, love, that it’s nice to see you in such a good mood. You’ve been pretty grumpy lately.”
“Why wouldn’t I be? You’re always telling me what I can and can’t do.”
“Well, I worry about you.” He pulled me into the curve of his arm.
“And you think I don’t worry about you?” I retorted.
“But did I nag you all these years about working with toxins, which are at least as dangerous as the occasional murderer?”
“Point taken,” said Jason and, pulling me closer, curved his body against mine.
It felt like old times. Better times. I guess romantic Sorrento was finally working its magic.
Recipe Index
Insalata Caprese
Neapolitan Mushroom Pate on Toasts
Tuna in the Style of Palermo
Caponata
A Hamburger in the Style of the Campania
Coffee Granita
Limoncello
Lemon Torte
Pork with Marsala Wine and Juniper
Bucatini alla Caruso
Stuffed Peaches with Mascarpone Cream
Ribolitta (Italian Vegetable Soup)
Torta Caprese
Archive.
Mozzarella Most Murderous Page 25