“I’ll have a beer. Whatever is on tap. I feel like I’m going to need it,” I mused, resting my chin in my palm. Agnes giggled as the man walked away, staggering as if he had been almost entranced. “You’re insufferable, do you realize that?” I sighed.
“Green isn’t such a lovely color on you, dear girl. I’m sure he would find you much more enticing if you weren’t such a brooding sort,” she replied casually. My eyes widened in shock and I barked out a laugh that sounded almost hysterical.
“Brooding? You’ve yet to see me at my broody... broodiest,” I began firmly, stammering off towards the end. Agnes hummed her acknowledgement, not bothering to look away from me as the waiter approached our table with our drinks. Placing the water in front of Agnes, I tried not to cackle as he ventured a charming smile at the older woman. She raised a brow, licking her lips slowly before taking a sip from her drink.
“Just as tasty as I’d expected,” Agnes smiled. He tossed his hair, brushing it back as if he were to try and engage her in conversation. “Dear, not that this isn’t flattering, but shouldn’t you keep your libido off the clock?” She said abruptly, causing him to grow considerably more pale.
“And in your age group,” I added quietly. He stammered for a moment, looking as if he would flee before Agnes rested a hand on his arm.
“Maybe I’ll look you up when your attention isn’t spread across the entire deck,” she said smoothly. He nodded shakily, placing my beer in front of me before scrambling away.
“You really are too much,” I mused aloud. Agnes shrugged a little, continuing to sip her water. “Anyway, you just took this as an out to change the subject. I still expect to know what on Earth we’re actually doing in Naples,” I paused, raising a brow. “Does it have something to do with that artifact with the woman who looks like you?” I challenged. Agnes seemed taken aback for a moment, shaking off my accusation with a wry smile.
“You are ever impressive with your intellect, Abigail. I wouldn’t quite say she looks like me, though. Her nose is far too large,” she sighed, glancing over my shoulder. I could only guess that she was staring in the direction of that strange store we’d lost that even stranger man inside of. “The artifact is Vesuvian in origin, the only issue is that the carbon dating applied to the sample didn’t quite add up. It’s a remarkable replica, but it is just that. A replica. It seemed to have been placed at the dig site after the eruptions of Mount Vesuvias. Some hundreds of years later,” she explained, examining her fingernails idly.
“Well, alright. That doesn’t explain why you would have come here to investigate. Maybe someone vacationing nearby did it to raise a bit of noise,” I pointed out. She smiled, glancing up at me.
“It was placed here long before the actual dig site of Pompeii was discovered. Around three hundred years prior. I’m not quite sure what anyone would have to gain from tossing a replicated piece of pottery into what, as far as anyone knew, was an empty pit. There’s something more to this whole scenario, as it were,” she admitted.
“Well what are we supposed to be looking for? And who was that guy you were chasing around town? Why would he have escaped in such a strange shop?” I continued to press, receiving narrowed eyes in turn.
“That’s my old apprentice: Martin Groves. If he’s here, he’s obviously caught on to our presence. The old man seems to get his kicks out of making my life miserable, ever since...,” she trailed off, glancing away. “Just trust that he is not a good man. Don’t be caught alone with him,” she muttered.
“Do you think he’s caught on to the same clues that we have? Or... good grief, Agnes, it would help if I had any idea what you were looking for,” I sighed.
“I will explain everything in due time. In the meantime, we’re going to enjoy our lunch and do a bit of shopping around town. If we’re here and you have an interest in the area, there’s no reason you shouldn’t enjoy yourself,” Agnes smiled. The waiter brought out our food, and I considered the dish with a slightly raised brow. The gnocchi, as it was called, seemed to be small dumplings in some sort of tomato sauce. My stomach growled loudly and conspicuously as I gazed into the bowl. “Enjoy your meal, Abigail. There’s nothing quite like this in the States, at least not prepared as well,” the older woman said with a grin before digging into her own food. I watched her eat like she’d not seen food in weeks, and though the sight was a bit off putting, I attributed it to the taste of the food. It must have been even better than it looked. I scooped up a spoonful, taking an experimental bite before moaning softly with pleasure at the taste. It wasn’t altogether unfamiliar; it was vaguely reminiscent of some pasta dishes I’d had in the past. Nothing I’d ever had before tasted quite so rich and velvety, however. The sauce was light yet somehow savory, and I had no doubt that it was made from freshly plucked ingredients. The food seemed to alight on my tastebuds, and I was sure I’d never had anything so delicious in my life. Where Agnes was ravenous, however, I wanted to savor every single bite. I chewed slowly, allowing my eyes to flutter shut as I swallowed.
“This is divine. Your taste is impeccable, Agnes, I’ll give you that much,” I said with a sigh. She chuckled, devouring the final bite from her own dish and dabbing a napkin against her lips. Before I could say another word, the waiter from before shuffled eagerly over, reaching out to take the bowl.
“Would you care for a second helping, ma’am? On me, of course. You look like you’ve not had a good meal in months,” he said, his voice a deep baritone that seemed to echo around us in a gentle rumble. I may have expected Agnes to be offended, but she simply looked delighted—like a child that had been given free reign of a candy store.
“Oh, you’re too kind, dear. I’d love another helping, but I’m more than capable of paying. You’re right, I’ve not had a meal quite this delicious in some time,” she admitted. He smiled and nodded, taking the bowl away with a bit of pep in his step. I glanced at Agnes, unable to stop myself from considering her a bit strangely.
“I’ve always been too nervous to eat more than a single helping, especially in public. I’m always worried what people will think,” I said carefully. Agnes rolled her eyes, taking another sip from her glass of water. At least she seemed to be making that last.
“Do I seem the sort to care terribly what other people think, Miss Bean? Once you’ve been in my company long enough, you’ll learn that some things in life are more important than how the public views you. Even something as simple as enjoying a delicious meal should be savored and treasured for every moment,” Agnes said, sounding surprisingly deep in spite of the casual conversation. I considered her words, nodding but continuing to enjoy my food at a slower pace. It would take time for me to adjust to the life of extravagance Agnes seemed to offer, if I ever adjusted at all. It was difficult to take in; just how luxurious life could be for a person. Then again, Agnes was anything except your average citizen, and her rich outlook on life only seemed to add to her appeal. When the waiter emerged with the second bowl of gnocchi, Agnes patted him gently on the cheek.
“I’ll go ahead and take the check, dear, so you don’t have to fuss over us any longer than necessary,” she said slyly, seeming to watch me from the corner of her eye. I had a feeling that the young man would look for any excuse to fuss over us, as Agnes put it, and I was proven right when he laughed a jovial laugh and shook his head.
“Oh, miss, it’s no bother. This meal is on me, as I said. I get the employee discount, after all. One of the perks is being able to treat beautiful women to a delicious meal,” he said smoothly, glancing to me almost as an afterthought. “Your meal will be free as well,” he added a bit carelessly before returning his attention to Agnes. The older woman looked all too thrilled by his attention, grabbing a slip of paper from his order pad and jotting something down on it.
“You’re too kind, young man. Look me up when you get some time off, alright? It’d be a joy to spend my time with such a charming young man,” she purred, tucking the paper into his pocket. I could onl
y guess it was her phone number. I rolled my eyes, unable to help the admittedly melodramatic groan that spilled past my lips. Agnes looked at me with a cheeky smile, reaching out to pat the back of my hand. “Oh, Abigail, dear. What did I tell you about envy? It’s not a fetching look on you,” she said in a stage whisper, where the waiter could obviously hear. He looked between Agnes and myself, the gears seeming to turn in his head. After a moment, he smiled a big and dopey grin. I could tell where his mind was headed, and I didn’t quite like the direction it was taking.
“She’s old enough to be my mother, I’m sure! Yours as well. What you two do behind closed doors is none of my business, but don’t think you’re going to be dragging me into it,” I hissed, shoving my bowl across the table at him. He flinched, and Agnes laughed loudly, an obnoxious and braying sound as she clutched her stomach.
“Dear God, Miss Bean, you actually think I would allow you in the same bed as myself?” She cajoled, and I found my cheeks growing red in irritation and embarrassment.
“Of course not! It’s your little boy toy you need to talk to,” I cried out, my voice rising in pitch. I realized belatedly that I was causing a scene when Agnes abandoned her remaining food with a soft sigh, pulling me away from the restaurant. She looked over her shoulder, calling out to the waiter. “Call me, honey,” she shouted before dragging me off. I stomped like the petulant child I felt like, glaring at Agnes as she fell into step beside me.
“I can’t believe you. He’s like half your age, and you just—,” I began, cut short as she laughed airily.
“I didn’t give him my actual number, Abigail. I’m not interested in men that look as if they could be my grandchildren,” she said dismissively, smirking a bit. “It was just interesting to see you get so flustered. Honestly, Abigail. I’m sure you’ve had plenty of men make a pass at you,” she sighed. I huffed under my breath, crossing my arms over my chest as I walked alongside her. She was quiet, and I was content to let the conversation drop when she spoke again.
“You’re supposed to argue the fact that he could be my grandson, dear. Are my looks failing that much?”
I had no idea what to do with this woman, my boss or otherwise.
Chapter Eleven
We strode through the city, with Agnes still wearing that self assured smirk. I felt a bit foolish for falling for her little trick, as it were. It was entertaining as well, if I’m telling the truth, though I felt a bit bad for the young man who obviously hadn’t been in on the whole trick. I couldn’t blame him for his fascination with Agnes, she was a rather intriguing character. In the moment, she seemed caught up in her own good humor, leading me towards the biggest shops in the city. The local clothes and trinkets served as a temporary fascination, but I hadn’t really brought a lot of money along on the trip.
“What exactly are you planning to buy?” I asked Agnes mildly, fidgeting with the silken threads of a beautiful blouse. She glanced at me from where she was sorting through some ancient history books across from me.
“I don’t know. I suppose the urge will hit me when I see the right thing,” she said idly, flipping through a book I was sure I had seen a copy of in her study. She frowned, drawing her lip between her teeth and gesturing for me to follow her. “Bring the blouse. I’m buying it for you. You’ll look devastatingly beautiful in it,” Agnes said without even glancing in my direction. I hesitated, glancing over the blouse for a moment longer before obligingly taking it off the rack and trailing behind her.
“Are you buying that? I thought you already had a copy,” I asked quietly, placing the blouse on the counter as Agnes pulled a wad of bills out of her wallet.
“I left it at home, unfortunately,” she said with a sigh, handing the money to the cashier and waiting for our things to be bagged. “It’s rather pressing that I have a copy now, and not just when we return to the states,” she added, taking the bag and glancing towards me with a wry smile. “I’m sure you can guess why. Now, as much as I’d like to continue our merry venture through the shops in town, I think it’s probably best we head back to the ruins and see if we can find anything beyond your first venture. The fact that you found anything at all is a testament to your intellect,” she continued, leading me out of the shop.
“I’m flattered, but I’m sure anyone could have found it if given a little guidance,” I said meekly, not used to such praise from anyone, let alone the fascinating older woman. She scoffed, taking me by the arm and guiding me back to her car—Stefan’s car, actually. I was sure she could buy it off of him if she felt so inclined, but I suppose borrowing it would suffice. I thought that if I had the excess funds she had, I might have bought a new car for every vacation location, but it was better to fantasize about than put into practice.
“Are you going to fasten your seatbelt?” Agnes pressed, and I didn’t realize how distracted I had become. I smiled sheepishly before buckling in, settling into the passenger seat and staring out the windshield. “Silly girl,” she said softly, shaking her head. I couldn’t exactly dispute the validity of her claim—it wasn’t the brightest thing to zone out into another world while we were preparing to continue our explorations. Agnes seemed to dismiss the thought, fiddling with the knobs on the radio. I wasn’t familiar with the local hits, but I could appreciate the upbeat tempo and cheerful singing that resonated through the car. Agnes sang along under her breath, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel as we drove back to the Villa of the Papyri. I smiled to myself, watching the sights that raced past the window. We found our way back at the ruins in short order, and Agnes grabbed the book she had purchased out of her bag. She grabbed a pen as well, opening to a seemingly specific page before circling a certain photograph. I glanced over to see what she was doing, but before I could get a proper look, she was bustling out of the car. I struggled to match her pace, unfastening my own seatbelt before staggering out of the passenger side. She glanced over her shoulder, presumably to make sure I was following along, before striding directly towards the guide I’d met earlier that day. I smiled brightly as the dark haired woman glanced us over, smiling politely at Agnes before turning to me.
“Nice to see you back so soon. Going to do some more exploring? I’d love to join you, but I got reamed for leaving my post for so long last time,” she admitted, looking a bit abashed. I frowned, reaching out to rest a hand on her shoulder.
“I didn’t mean for you to get in any trouble,” I apologized, and she chuckled before shrugging her shoulders.
“Don’t think anything of it. I get in trouble like it’s going out of style. Weirdness seems to follow me wherever I go,” she said, looking over Agnes once more. Suddenly alarmed, I tightened my grip on her.
“You’re not attracted to her, are you?” I demanded, my voice reaching an embarrassingly high pitch. Agnes looked at me with a smirk while the tour guide simply looked between us with a curious expression.
“Not really my type,” the tour guide finally seemed to decide after dawdling for a moment. To my delight, Agnes looked almost offended. The young woman smiled apologetically, patting my hand before stepping away from my touch. “No offense, ma’am. I just don’t make a habit of flirting with tourists,” she smiled. Agnes only seemed to grow more irate, poking the tour guide in the chest. The younger woman looked at Agnes with a quirk of her brow, an easy smile on her lips.
“I’m anything but a tourist, I’ll have you know! I’m the leading expert when it comes to this region,” she announced, sounding a bit over the top as far as I was concerned.
“Sorry, miss,” the tour guide said mildly, offering me a sly wink before shuffling back to her post. I felt my cheeks redden slightly, entertained by how flustered Agnes seemed by the idea of being considered a tourist.
“The gall of these young locals...,” Agnes grumbled, taking me by the wrist and leading me deeper into the ruins. I tried to keep her pace, stumbling a bit as I, once again, tried to take in the sights that surrounded us. I yanked my wrist out of her grip, pausing at wh
at looked to have been some sort of mural, ages ago. I brushed my fingers to the stone, humming softly as Agnes seemed to scrutinize the very same mural. She grabbed her book, and I glanced over in time to see that this very place was the one she had marked in her guide. I smiled, admittedly, a bit haughtily. “I had initially attributed your good fortune to beginner’s luck, but you continue to surprise and alarm me at every turn, Miss Bean,” she sighed. I stepped back, watching as she traced her fingers along the faded remains of the mural. I watched her for a moment, my initial victorious feeling beginning to fade as she closely scrutinized a flower in the corner of the image.
“I thought we were here to look for more clues,” I asked bluntly, crossing my arms as Agnes turned to face me.
“And we are, dear girl. Don’t you see the plethora of mystery cloaked in these ruins? This mural, it speaks to me,” she trailed off, continuing to examine the large image. I couldn’t help but scoff a little, wondering what on Earth she could possible find in a picture on the wall. She seemed to sense my growing antsiness and stared dully at me. “You’re welcome to explore in any manner you prefer, but I don’t think that little tour guide of yours is going to be of any help. After all, you’ve gotten her into enough trouble, don’t you think?” Agnes said airily, and I couldn’t help feeling as if it was a low blow. I narrowed my eyes, worrying my lower lip between my teeth before decisively turning away from Agnes and going to explore on my own terms. I passed the tour guide as I strode through the ruins, and after a moment, she began to trail behind me.
“I never caught your name, miss,” she said amicably, dragging her fingertips along the stone walls.
“It’s Abigail. Abigail Bean. I didn’t catch yours either,” I said carefully, pausing to allow her to fall into step beside me. “I thought you had gotten in trouble for leaving your post to help me last time,” I muttered, feeling apologetic. She scoffed, walking backwards so that she could face me as she moved.
The Peculiar Case of Agnes Astor Smith Page 7