Left to Hunt (An Adele Sharp Mystery—Book Nine)

by Blake Pierce

  The woman was beautiful; there was no doubt about it, but not in the way Adele had expected. In her mind she had envisioned a large, silicone injected blonde bombshell, with lips twice the size of normal, and eyes streaked with blush. Instead, the young, 23-year-old had dark hair, cut nearly to her scalp. She had two simple diamond studs in both her ears, and a perfectly framed nose across sharp cheekbones. Her eyes were rimmed in a dash shadow, and the way she moved caught even Adele's attention. Almost like a dancer, every motion and step as she entered the apartment and beckoned at them, seemed rehearsed, confident, almost like the gestures of a charismatic politician, trying to ensnare the public.

  John was determinedly staring anywhere but in the woman's direction, likely unable to jolt the phrase “erotic actress," from his mind. Adele resisted the urge to roll her eyes or kick his shin.

  The young women settled on a large, leather couch beneath a floor-to-ceiling window, which overlooked the canal itself. A Turkish rug extended in front of the couch, with a small ottoman upon which a plate of cheese and crackers had been set.

  The woman waved a hand towards the crackers, "Refreshments, if you'd like. I know hoofing it around Venice can be a bit bothersome for people who aren't used to it."

  Adele blinked, shaking her head. "You're Ms. Onio?"

  "Ella, please. One and the same. Agent Sharp, yes? That makes him Agent Renee. Hello." Her eyes lingered on John for a moment, and Adele frowned. John nodded back, giving a little wave. He crossed his arms, leaning against the door frame. "Do you mind closing that?" Ms. Onia asked, her voice musical and playful.

  Adele wrinkled her nose. John shut the door with a thud, latching it, and then returning to his post by the doorway, his arms crossed, staring across the well illuminated hotel room.

  "We have a few questions, if you don't mind," Adele said. “Would you like to see some ID?" She added as an afterthought, again, a bit taken aback by the sudden trusting nature of the young woman.

  But the actress shook her head. "No, that's fine. One of my friends at the station sent me your pictures ahead of time. John and Adele, right? Do you prefer I call you agent or by your first names?"

  "You have a friend at the station?”

  The woman just smiled.

  Adele cleared her throat and continued, “Agent Sharp is fine.”

  "John's okay," Renée added.

  Adele shot him a look, and he shrugged.

  For a moment, Adele glanced deeper into the apartment. A couple of framed pictures lined the wall—movie posters. After a moment, she realized these were posters displaying Ella's face. Well, not just her face. Adele's cheeks reddened, and she looked away again, trying not to spend too much time dwelling on a poster with the title, "Heartless Love in HD!"

  "I'm not sure what I can tell you," Ella said, biting her lip, somehow even making this gesture sensuous. Even the way she sat, shoulders back, hips angled, knees folded up against her, chin high, all seemed practiced, intentional, communicating a thousand words with posture alone.

  Or maybe, Adele was just being jealous.

  The thought made her frown, and she crossed her arms, matching John's posture and stepping closer towards the tray of crackers. "We just have a couple of questions. Nothing about what you didn't witness.”

  “And that's just exactly it," Ella said, shaking her head. "It was all so horrible. When I heard the news about Lorraine, I cried. For a full hour, it was awful. My cheeks puffed and everything."

  John clicked his tongue, shaking his head with grievous sympathy.

  Anything but puffed cheeks! Adele thought to herself in mock sympathy. But out loud she said, "I'm very sorry for your loss. How did you know the victim?”

  "Oh, please, Agent Adele, don't call her that. Her name was Lorraine. I don't think I could possibly think of her as anything else."

  "All right. How did you know Lorraine? Are you from Venice?"

  "No, actually. I live near Rome. But Lorraine and I often met up, renting this room during the festival. It is really quite lovely, isn't it?"

  Adele shrugged. "It's nice.”

  "Very beautiful," John chimed in.

  "I'm glad you agree," said Ella, nodding and smiling in a thoughtful sort of way. The sun shining through the open window reflected off her short hair and caressed the slope of her sculpted nose along her cheekbones, sending shadows towards her small chin. She angled her face in just such a way, suggesting again, she was all too aware of the effect the lighting had on her. This was a woman who knew her way around perspective.

  "So she's a friend of yours. How did you make friends with a German actress?"

  "The Shine conference," Ella said, nodding once. "When we were just young, nearly eight years ago. It's a festival for up-and-coming actresses and models in Rome. Lorraine came through for that, and we hit it off right away. We spent every summer together since." She shrugged. "I'm going to miss her; I already know that. I don't think the full weight of it has even hit me yet."

  "It can take a while sometimes," Adele said, nodding. "Were you with her last night?"

  "I was, at first. Me and some of our other friends. They also came here for the festival. But," she said, biting her lip again, "I hate to say it, but we got separated. Lorraine didn't like being babied and walked around. She wanted to see some of the sites for herself, while I was more interested in a play one of my friends is in. We split up, intending to meet back at the theater, but she never showed. And that's when," Ella winced, closing her eyes for a moment, and said, "that's when I heard the news. Like I said, it was very upsetting."

  "I bet. Well, is there anything Lorraine might've told you? Something that might suggest who did this?" Adele paused, realizing perhaps she was being too hard on the woman. She paused, gathering herself, trying not to glance at John. “I'm sorry,” she added. “I know how hard this all must be.”

  Ella shook her head quickly. She gestured a hand towards the plate of cheese and crackers. "Please, if you're hungry."

  "I'm fine," Adele said.

  John, though, stepped forward, over the ottoman, and grabbed a cracker, popping it in his mouth. As he did, he pulled himself to his full height, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that emphasized his biceps.

  Ella looked at John, smiling. "You're very tall," she said. "That's a horrible scar. How did you get it?"

  Adele blinked at the forward nature of the question. John, though, didn't seem offended at all. "I'm a war hero," he said, sighing as he did as if weary to admit his own greatness. "Just one of the little badges of courage I was given during service."

  "Oh my," Ella said, shaking her head. "That's incredible."

  "It is, isn't it?" John said, nodding solemnly. Adele resisted the urge to throw up in her mouth as John continued, "You don't happen to know anything about a mask, do you?"

  Ella paused, nibbling her lip. "Mask? You mean like the masks everyone's wearing outside?"

  "Yes, but specifically Lorraine's. Was she wearing a mask when she left the apartment?"

  "Oh, no. She still needed to pick one out for the ball. But she hadn't yet."

  "The ball?" John and Adele said at the same time.

  Ella nodded quickly, and pushed off the couch, with an energetic balance, moving to the opposite side of the apartment, and opening a door to a closet. "The Masque Cielo, yes, look, see, I already have my own dress picked out. A mask too." She waved a hand into the closet, where a single item was dangling from a hook.

  The dress had blue lace and ribbons and was missing portions that might have suggested any effort at decency. There was also a mask, settled on a cushion in the base of the closet.

  Delicately, like lifting a child, Ella picked up the mask, and held it up to her face so the agents could see.

  Bright blue threads, and peacock feathers jutted out the top of the mask. Instead of pale, the texture was crimson, streaked with patterns of swirling yellow and green.

  "Do you like it?" Ella said. "It took me hours to find
the right one."

  "It's lovely," Adele said. "And Lorraine, she didn't have a mask yet?"

  "Not that I'm aware of. And she promised to shop with me for one." Ella paused, frowning. "Why?"

  "Your friend was found with a mask. We're trying to figure out where she might've gotten it."

  "She was? She promised she'd wait to shop for one with me!" Ella said, sounding scandalized briefly, but then, catching herself; she winced, glancing off with a flash of guilt. "I mean, that's horrible. I'm sorry. But I don't know where she got it."

  Adele sighed through her nose, considering their options. The killer made the most sense. Who else would have given a mask to the victims? Both of them had one.

  Which meant Christopher's ability to track down the mask maker would make all the difference. But it also meant, if they weren't able to find a connecting point between the face-wear, they would be back to square one.

  Ms. Onio smoothed her sleeves, and said, "I don't have any idea who might've done this. I promise. I swear it. That mask, whatever it was, wasn't mine, and it wasn't Lorraine's."

  "I believe you," Adele said, sensing the flustered tone of the young woman. "Is there anything else we need to know? Anyone Lorraine might have gone to see? Anyone who might've recognized her? We know she was a bit of an up-and-coming actress."

  Ella declared, "She was marvelous! She was going to have a big break soon too, I could tell. I always could tell. I was trying to convince her to star in one of my films, actually. Did you know that I did films?" She tilted her head in just such a pose to match one of the movie posters closest to the window.

  "I could tell," John said quickly.

  "Good for you," Adele said, shooting a nasty look towards Renée. She coughed delicately and continued, "So some people might've recognized her—is that what you're saying?"

  "Well, perhaps not in Venice. She was still small time. She could have done wonderfully. But she had, well, standards. Quite judgmental standards I might add." Ella sniffed. "But there was a man that Lorraine would see whenever she came to Italy. Every year for the festival, she would take some time to go meet with him. Very secretive though, and she would never tell me his name."

  Adele perked at this, glancing at John again, who nodded, prompting her to continue the line.

  "A secret lover?"

  "Perhaps. Maybe just a friend. She wouldn't tell me, and I'm not sure why. I sometimes wondered if maybe it wasn't a man at all." Ella inclined her eyebrows significantly, but then glanced out the window once more.

  Adele sighed softly, considering this new angle. "Any idea where they might have met each other? Or where they would meet up during the festival?”

  "No, sorry. Nothing like that at all. I mean, you have her phone, don't you? You could check? I'm sure there's something there. Not that I'm trying to tell you how to do your job."

  "All right, thank you Ella," Adele said, nodding. She waved at John, who was reaching for another cracker. "Please stay in Venice for the week, in case we have any more questions.”

  "Oh, I'm going to see the festival anyway. For Lorraine—she would've wanted that." Ella nodded, sniffing in a sort of theatrical way. And Adele turned, moving back towards the door.

  She saw more movie posters on the opposite wall, and paused, trying to consider the next move. The roommate hadn't been much help, but this information about the secret lover, perhaps that would be useful.

  At just that moment, her phone began to ring. Adele answered, "Yes?”

  "Adele," came Agent Leoni's voice on the other end. "I have a lead on those masks."

  Adele felt a tiny jolt of excitement. "Yes? Did you find who sold them?"

  "Better," said Leoni. "I found who made them. I'm texting you the address. I'll be waiting here when you're done interviewing the witness."

  Adele paused, glancing towards where John was still talking with Ella, pointing at his scar and leaning in to give the actress a closer look.

  Adele cleared her throat. “You coming?” she called.

  Sheepishly, John looked up, winced and gave a quick farewell to the beautiful, young woman. For her part, Adele tried not to glare too hard at the side of John's face as he rejoined. Into the phone, she said, “Already done with the interview. We're on our way."

  CHAPTER NINE

  Adele ducked under a row of dangling beads and glass baubles which created a sort of half curtain over the entrance into the cramped shop facing the Grand Canal.

  The presumptuously titled Michelangelo's Masks was about a mile from the hotel where Lorraine and Ella had been staying. Not that this meant much, as Venice was a crowded city near the more touristy destinations.

  Michelangelo's Masks had prime real estate, right on the Grand Canal, surrounded by a small movie theater on one side and a museum and gift shop on the other. Wedged between the two rectangular buildings, the curio shop had vibrant neon signs in the windows, but the lights, instead of flashing from glass bulbs, reflected off shards of crystal and resplendent beads in strange swooping patterns. Inside, the shop itself was similarly decorated and ornamented. As Adele moved beneath the bead curtain and entered deeper into the cramped store, she was confronted by a grizzly bear carved from a pure block of reflective tiger's eye, the semi-precious stone.

  The grizzly bear of tiger's eye looked to be nearly four feet tall; Adele leaned in, glancing at the price tag, and nearly swallowed her tongue.

  $50,000.

  "Shopping for souvenirs?" John murmured behind her. The tall agent had to duck even lower than her, and now was busily trying to extricate one of the strands of crystal from where it had landed behind his ear. He brushed noisily at his face and scanned the small space of the artisan shop. Besides the carvings, the beads, and the fragments of crystal out front, Adele spotted the source of the shop's title.

  Rows of masks lined the wall behind the glass counter. For a moment, it almost felt as if she were staring into a crowd, and they were staring back. The suspended faces on the wall, dangled from metal hooks with bright flowers and hand-painted patterns on the surface, were made of porcelain, and others mesh and ebony. Still other, more exotic, masks were made of varnished wood, and a row beneath a small wooden sign read Hawaiian Koa and Sinker Redwood.

  These masks were dark and coffee stained. There were feathers tucked behind the frames, and gold dust sprinkled in intricate swirls over the eye-sockets.

  Adele glanced around from one mask to the other, in equal parts admiration and mild unease.

  "You like?" called a heavily accented voice from the back of the shop, behind the counter. "You like, discount, two-for-one." The voice boomed in the small space, immediately attracting Adele and John's attention.

  First, Adele noticed Agent Christopher Leoni, where he stood by the glass counter, next to a full-figured mannequin wearing a ballroom dress and red mask with what looked like bats’ wings sprouting out of the top.

  Christopher gave a little wave, and then nodded surreptitiously towards the man behind the counter who he had been speaking. Christopher's small notepad, which Adele remembered from their previous missions, was resting on the glass counter, and his right hand scribbled furiously on the pages, nodding quietly as he did.

  "We're not here to buy," Adele said, glancing at the shopkeeper.

  The man was three sizes larger than Christopher. He had a double chin, and a wild, bushy full head of hair. His eyes were vibrant blue, and he wore red sunglasses perched so low on his nose that they didn't serve his eyes.

  The enormous man carried his weight well, like an opera singer, and gesticulated wildly with a hand towards the masks behind him. "Hand-painted," he declared, "each one masterpiece!"

  "They are quite beautiful," Adele returned as she covered the final distance between the carving of the bear and the mannequin by the glass counter. She pulled up next to Leoni, glancing at what he was scribbling.

  She read the words, alibi? busy season.

  "I'm with the police," Adele said. "We're
here to ask you some questions."

  She looked up from the notepad, and realized the mask maker and shopkeeper was now frowning.

  "You scare customer," he said, tapping a finger hard against the glass. He frowned from Adele to Christopher and over to John. On this third glance, his expression flickered hopefully again, but John grunted, "I'm not buying either."

  Now, the bluster of the shopkeeper melted completely, to be replaced by a frown and a weighty sigh. "Waste time," the Italian said, glumly. "Nothing to say. No help."

  Christopher shook his head, though. "That's not quite true. Tell them what you told me," he said.

  The Italian glanced over, frowning and wincing. "Ha?"

  Christopher repeated the question, this time in Italian.

  The shopkeeper wagged his head quickly and glanced to Adele. "Yes. Mask. I know. What's of? I sell to mask. I know."

  Adele glanced at Christopher who said, "He recognized both the masks when I showed him. One of the wooden stalls selling the masks recognized the paintwork, directed me towards Mr. Angelo here."

  "Nice to meet you Mr. Angelo," Adele said, curtly. "And? So he recognizes the masks?"

  Christopher folded back the top sheet of his notebook, revealing two pictures of the masks that had been found with the victims. He tapped both of them again, and said, "Tell me again how you know these."

  Mr. Angelo coughed, looking furtively from Adele to Christopher and back again. He was beginning to look uneasy, and a thin bead of sweat formed on his brow. He wiped at his thick neck and shrugged. "Maybe I wrong. Maybe mistake."

  "Maybe," Leoni said. "But weren't you just telling me that you take great pride in every mask you make?"

  "Yes. Beautiful."

  "Very beautiful, I agree. And these two, they're beautiful also. One of your friends, who works down the wharf suggested that you had made both of these. They said they recognized the paintwork—it really is quite eye-catching. Is that true?"

  The shopkeeper looked hesitantly from Adele to John to Christopher, and if anything, despite his large frame, he almost seemed to shrink in on himself, as if he were trying to become smaller and disappear. Adele had often known that the more touristy types could sense trouble a mile away. Perhaps because they spent so much time causing it themselves with the exorbitant prices and underhanded dealings they had with unsuspecting visitors.