The Complete Kate Benedict Cozy British Mysteries

by Carrie Bedford

  “I think so. When we escaped, we saw a specific landmark, the Ponte Buriano. I should be able to work it out. But I wonder why Santini would store his relics at the villa, not in the warehouse? It’d be so much better protected.”

  “For the same reason that he wanted me to be at the vault. He didn’t trust his brother. As far as Santini was concerned, the relic smuggling was his own private operation, and the proceeds were to be his alone. He was irrationally suspicious of Dante, almost to the point of paranoia, in my opinion. But, hiding the relics in Rome, right under the nose of the Church, was one step too risky. And so he found another storage place, one that he could readily access when he wanted to sell an item.”

  I took a sip of my espresso. It burned my throat like acid. I put the cup on its saucer and pushed it away. I’d had too much caffeine for one day. Not to mention too much stress and anxiety, and it wasn’t over yet. Until we found Ethan, and I saw Claire again, nothing would be right.

  “So you could locate this villa?” Falcone asked again. “We checked records for details of Santini’s real estate holdings and there is no house in the Arezzo area listed.”

  “Maybe it’s in Dante’s name?” I really didn’t care about the relics right now. I just wanted to find Ethan. A glance at my watch showed it was almost ten, more than two hours since we’d found that he was missing again. “Have you had any news on Dante’s whereabouts?” I asked. “Have you checked his apartment?”

  “Of course. And there is a country-wide alert out for him. If he tries to board a train or a plane, we’ll catch him.” He stood up. “Let’s go.”

  I remained on my chair, staring up at him. “I’m not going anywhere until we know that Claire’s all right and we find Ethan.”

  Falcone frowned at me, but his mobile rang and he answered it immediately. He listened and nodded. “Si, bene, grazie.”

  “An officer is accompanying Claire to this office,” he said when he finished the call. “It seems that she is better. She’ll be here in a few minutes.”

  “That’s good news, although I hoped the call had something to do with Ethan.”

  “Patience, Kate.” He took off the white sling and moved his arm around. “Better.”

  “Hmm. I think you’re just being brave.” Although I tried not to, I’d found myself staring at the space above his head, where the aura had been. Now, it was as if it had never existed.

  He looked at me quizzically and raised his hand to smooth down his hair. “Do I have a bad haircut?”

  “What?” I was startled that he’d noticed. Heat flushed my neck. He waited, not saying anything.

  “I can see auras that predict death,” I blurted out. “You had one but now it’s gone. It went away when that bullet didn’t kill you.”

  “The bullet failed to kill me only because you saved me from it,” he responded. “But tell me more about this aura? What does it mean?”

  “It’s a phenomenon that I call an aura, for lack of a better word. It looks as though the air over someone’s head is moving in circles. To me, that means he or she is going to die soon. The aura only appears when death is imminent, no more than a week or two away. Claire and Ethan have auras too. Santini had one. And he’s dead.”

  As Falcone sat down again, I asked myself what had compelled me to describe my bizarre gift to a law enforcement officer. I’d tried that once before with a detective in England and merely succeeded in convincing him I was unstable.

  To my surprise, Falcone nodded as though he understood. “I was curious,” he said. “Your eyes tend to drift to a place a few centimeters over the head of the person you’re talking to.”

  “Really? I didn’t realize I did that.”

  “It’s part of my job to notice people’s tics. You’d be surprised at how much we give away about ourselves with the smallest of movements and reactions.”

  I thought of Josh and the way he jiggled his leg when he was impatient or nervous. Or my project manager Laura, who laughed uproariously when she got angry. I could read them both. It’d never struck me that I might be equally transparent.

  “And this gift of yours?” he asked. “Have you always been able to see these auras?”

  “No. It’s a long story.”

  “I’d like to hear it,” he said. “Perhaps while we drive to Arezzo?”

  33

  We walked across the lobby of the police station just as Claire came in through the front door. I stopped in mid-stride when I saw her, sorry to see that her aura still swirled over her head. The danger in the vault had passed, and the doctors had released her from the hospital. So now what? Dante was still free. Somehow he had to be the threat to her.

  Falcone looked over his shoulder at me. “Shall we go?”

  I nodded, dashing forward to give Claire a hug. She was still pale, and her hair hung lank over her shoulders. I was glad she didn’t ask me if her aura was still there. Instead, she peppered Falcone with questions about Ethan, and he gave her the same answers he’d given me.

  “The police are searching for Ethan,” he said. “And Dante will be stopped if he tries to leave the country. The best thing is for you to go home. We have officers outside your building already, watching out for your brother. I will have someone escort you. You’ll be well protected. Kate is coming with me to Santini’s villa and she will rejoin you later.”

  “No,” I said. “I’m staying with Claire.”

  “But I need you to come with me,” Falcone said.

  “And what I need is my brother.” Claire took a step towards Falcone, glaring at him. “Why aren’t you out looking for him? What’s so important about Santini’s villa that you’re going there at this time of night?”

  Falcone glanced at me before answering her. “I assure you, everyone is looking for your brother,” he said. “I can do nothing useful by remaining in Florence right now.”

  Claire’s eyes welled with tears. “I can’t sit at home just waiting.”

  Falcone pursed his lips and checked his watch, not hiding his impatience very well.

  “Then we’ll both go to Arezzo,” I said. “At least we’ll be in motion, and anything is better than waiting around.”

  “Claire?” Falcone asked. “What would you rather do?”

  “I’ll come with you,” Claire said finally, wiping away tears.

  Fifteen minutes later, the three of us were seated in the back of a comfortable Alfa Romeo, followed by a Carabinieri van occupied by Oberto and a dozen officers. Within seconds of closing the car door, Claire fell asleep, her head resting against the window.

  As we headed out of the city south on the A1 towards Rome, the vehicles in front of us threw up plumes of spray that kept our windscreen wipers squeaking back and forth. Traffic was light at this late hour, but any car that moved too slowly for our driver’s liking was promptly warned off by a wail of a siren.

  When we passed the exit to the road that led to my father’s house, I felt a lump in my throat. I hated doing anything that worried him, although I knew he’d be feeling better now that Leo had told him I was all right. Still, I wanted to go home. This day seemed never-ending. I crossed my arms, suddenly resentful that Falcone was dragging me around the Tuscan countryside in the middle of the night. Surely, I’d more than done my duty by now.

  “So, these auras,” Falcone said. “I find the concept quite fascinating.”

  “They’re not.” I let my bad mood get the better of me.

  He settled back in his seat, and pulled the collar up on his coat even though the car was warm.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s been a long day.”

  He reached out and patted my hand. “Take a nap,” he suggested.

  But I wanted to talk, I decided. The few people who were aware of my strange ability had wildly differing reactions to it. Leo had been resistant for a long time but, thanks to the level-headed response of his wife, Olivia, he’d come round. My boyfriend was totally supportive, as was my friend Anita. Dad didn’t want
to know. I didn’t blame him. He was having a hard time getting over my mum’s death and he was a fiercely practical man. Claire’s ghosts would evoke the same reaction from him as my auras. He didn’t believe in an after-life.

  I twisted slightly in my seat to face Falcone. “I saw my first aura here in Tuscany, over the head of my dad’s neighbor. A week later she was dead. It took me a while to understand that the aura predicted death.”

  “Did something happen to initiate this aura-seeing ability? Did you have a fall? A blow to the head?”

  “No. It was something to do with my mum. Nearly two years ago, she was killed on a pedestrian crossing by an elderly driver. Three months later, she came to me while I was walking on a hill near my dad’s house. I talked to her.”

  “You talked with your dead mother?”

  “Yes. Weird, huh?”

  “Not so much,” he said. “My dear departed grandmother could see spirits. She had long conversations with my deceased grandfather, apparently, and with complete strangers who’d lived in our old house over the past century or two.”

  I smiled, thinking of Claire and her ghost in the Vasari Corridor.

  “Italy has a heritage of superstition,” Falcone continued. “The ancient Romans were intensely superstitious, and I think most Italians still are. And we’re Catholics of course and accept that there is life after death. Many Italians would tell you they believe in ghosts. And how could you not, in this fantastical country, where history whispers to us from the cobbles, the stone walls, and the vaulted ceilings of our churches and palazzi? No, to me, it’s not surprising at all.”

  “Do you believe in ghosts?” I asked.

  “There may be little concrete evidence that ghosts share this world with us,” he said. “But there is also no proof that they don’t. And so we should suspend judgement, I think.”

  I gazed at him in surprise. There was a great deal about Falcone that I found unexpected.

  “And you began to observe these auras after this encounter with your mother?” he asked.

  “Yes. Not long after that, I met a nun. Sister Chiara was her name. A wonderful lady, not like the battle-axe Renata. Chiara told me to accept my ability to see auras as a gift. I saw her too, after she died. But I haven’t seen any spirits since then, only this aura rippling over someone who’s in imminent danger.”

  “Your Sister Chiara sounds like a wise woman,” Falcone said. “I agree with her. You should consider your ability a blessing, Kate. I am confident you will always use it for good— and I consider myself an able judge of character.”

  “Thank you.”

  Falcone glanced at Claire, who was managing to sleep upright, without snoring or drooling. I’d probably do both if I tried to sleep in a car. “Is Claire’s aura still in place?” he asked.

  “Yes, which really bothers me. Santini’s dead, Dante must be on the run, and the doctor just checked her out, so her general health isn’t the risk. I’m sure that her fate is linked to that of her brother. We need to find Ethan, and then… I don’t know.”

  After that, we rode in silence until I saw the turn-off for Arezzo. The lights of an Autogrill service station gleamed brightly under the rain a little further on.

  “We come off at the next exit,” I told the driver. “Take the road that leads to the Ponte Buriano and then we turn right. There should be a road that winds up to the top of the hill.”

  After a couple of wrong turns that led to dead ends, we began weaving our way upward, my stomach clenching with nerves as I thought of the grim nun. I was sure she’d be there, armed and waiting.

  “You need to know about Renata,” I said to Falcone. “Santini’s accomplice. Once she hears of Santini’s death, she may try to move that stuff. She has a gun and she’s not afraid to use it.”

  “Thank you. We will be prepared to face a warlike nun.”

  “I’m not joking. She’s terrifying.”

  We’d reached the top of the hill. Ahead was a long, low stone wall punctuated by a set of wrought iron gates. “Turn there,” I said. “This must be it.”

  The driver jumped out and did something that made the gates open. A useful skill, I thought. Claire stirred as we slowed down on the gravel driveway, the tires crunching over the small stones. The Carabinieri van followed us in and we parked just inside the gates, out of sight of the house.

  Falcone opened his door, letting in a blast of cold air. It was still raining and the wind moaned through the trees. I tried to pull my scarf closer around my neck before remembering that I’d misplaced it somewhere in my various travels.

  “Thank you for your assistance in locating the villa,” Falcone said. “Wait here. I’ll be back as quickly as possible.”

  “I’d like to come,” I said. “I’ll stay out of the way, but I might be able to help.”

  “No, Kate. I have endangered you more than enough already. Let my men do their job. I’ll contact the driver as soon as the house is secured. He will stay with you. And keep an eye on Claire.”

  34

  From the back of the car, we watched Falcone and Oberto lead their officers up to the villa. Claire flung herself back against the seat and closed her eyes. I sympathized. It was hard to sit still and do nothing, but I also appreciated Falcone’s desire to keep us out of harm’s way. Our chauffeur, Massimo, sat motionless, staring out through the rain-washed windscreen. Rivulets of water made it hard to see much. A roll of thunder swelled and a flash of lightning briefly lit up the sky. From the corner of my eye, I saw something move through the shrubs that lined the driveway. Apparently Massimo noticed something too because he swung his head around to stare out of his side window.

  “Did you see it?” I asked. “We saw a boar last time we were here. Perhaps he’s come back.” I remembered the feral smell, the sheer force of the creature as it trampled shrubs as though they were matchsticks.

  “Quiet please,” Massimo said. Lightning flashed again. All I saw now were bushes and trees swaying in the wind. But, over the tapping of rain on the car roof, I heard something else. A shout coming from the woodland to our right. I was sure of it.

  “Santo cielo,” Massimo exclaimed, unclicking his seat belt. He reached for his radio just as the sky discharged another bolt of electricity, illuminating the area with bright, white incandescence. A figure moved along the edge of the drive. A man, not a boar. Then there were two figures, and I was sure one of them was Ethan, his blond hair bleached in the achromatic light. Massimo took a gun from his inside pocket, weighed it in his hand and then turned to look at us. “Lock the doors after I get out.”

  “We’ll come with you,” Claire said.

  “No.”

  “But—” Claire began to argue. I put my hand on her arm. With her aura still present, I was determined to keep her away from danger.

  “We’ll stay here,” I said to Massimo.

  He eased out of the car, crouching down by the front wheel. Another flash revealed emptiness where the two figures had been standing. They must have gone deeper into the forest that surrounded the villa. Massimo stood and jogged towards the tree line, quickly disappearing into the darkness.

  Claire grabbed at my arm. “What did you see?”

  “I’m not sure. Two men. They ran off into the woods.”

  “Was one of them Ethan?”

  I hesitated. I was sure it was, but I didn’t want to distress Claire.

  “It was, wasn’t it?” she said. Her hand was on the door handle, but I’d already popped the locks shut. “I’m going to look for him.”

  “No way. We wait here.”

  She launched herself between the two front seats and hit a button on the driver’s side. The noise of the locks releasing, usually so banal, sounded like the gates of hell rumbling open.

  Claire opened the back door and stepped out. I scrambled out on my side and ran around the back of the car to join her. “Get back in the car right now.”

  “I have to find Ethan.”

  “Let the polic
e do it. We have to be patient.”

  “Do I still have my aura?”

  My words seemed stuck in my throat. “Yes,” I croaked. “So you’re still at risk. Please, be sensible.”

  Claire ignored me and rushed towards the trees just as someone yelled, “Stop right there.” A gunshot split the night, sending a flock of birds chattering into the air over my head. I sprinted towards Claire, grabbed her and pulled her with me down to the ground, something sharp and pointy digging into my thigh. For a moment, I couldn’t hear anything above the thump of my heart against my ribs. And then came a man’s voice, a whisper dampened by the hiss of the rain.

  “Keep moving,” he said. “Fai presto, hurry!”

  “I have to stop,” came another voice. I knew at once it was Ethan’s. “My knee’s not working too well.”

  “Oh my God,” Claire murmured.

  Someone else spoke. It sounded like a woman. I peered in the direction of the voice, but it was too dark and the trees were too densely planted for me to see anything.

  There was another shot, followed by a thud as someone fell to the ground. Where was Massimo? Was he the one doing the shooting?

  Claire pushed me away and clambered to her feet. She sprinted into the trees, in the direction of the voices and out of my sight. I had no choice. I stood up and ran to the point where she’d disappeared.

  Squeezing between two tree trunks, with leaves spilling water down my neck, I realized there are degrees of darkness. Compared to the blackness in here, the driveway was lit up like the London Eye on New Year’s Eve. The only good news was that Claire wasn’t being subtle in her headlong progress. Snapping twigs and waving branches made it easy for me to follow her.

  I quickly caught up and grabbed her arm. “What the hell, Claire? We have to go find Falcone.”

  “We need to find Ethan,” she said, shaking my hand loose and pressing on through the thick brushwood. Ahead of us, the trees thinned out sufficiently for me to glimpse a clearing, which was more an absence of darkness than anything else. When we reached the edge of it, we hunkered down in the undergrowth. Seconds later, three people moved into view. One of them was Ethan. The tall slender figure next to him could only be Dante, but the third, the woman whose voice we’d heard, was hard to identify. She was too thin to be the nun, and too tall to be the petite nurse. How did Ethan get here? Why was Dante at his brother’s place? And where the heck was Massimo?