“Not yet,” said Columbo. “But first things first. No one has spoken to the Alberti family yet. They put in a report yesterday that she hadn’t come home from work the night before. The police were about to send someone out to investigate when this connection came up. I don’t think they could believe their good luck. They sent the file over here so fast there are skid marks on the fax machine. We were just going to pull the old files to see if there was any connection to Katarina’s case when you showed up.”
“I’m sure you won’t find anything,” Alessandro said firmly. He didn’t need to look—he’d long committed all the files to memory, and he knew there was no mention of a Vanessa Alberti among them. A few short days ago, that wouldn’t have mattered to him; he would have searched high and low for a link between the two cases, no matter how remote. But he’d come a long way in the healing process—all thanks to Olivia. He wondered if she was already on her way to the airport and if she was missing him as much as he was missing her.
“How long did Vanessa work at the airport?” he asked Columbo, wrenching his thoughts back to the case. It didn’t matter if she was unconnected to Katarina—her killer still had to be caught.
“About two years. Took some time off for a maternity leave last year.”
“Oh great. So she has a young child.”
“Two of them, in fact, and a husband going nearly out of his mind with worry. Someone has to go talk to him, pronto.”
Alessandro looked over to his workmates, who were now all trying to look busy flicking on computer screens, shuffling papers, picking up their phones. Of all the jobs they had to do, telling a family their loved one wasn’t coming back had to be the worst. He’d been on the receiving end and knew this was the most horrific news they’d ever hear. “I’ll do it,” he said evenly. “Where do they live?”
There was a half-hearted murmur of objections before Pamela told him the woman had lived with her husband’s family south of Padua in the Euganean Hills.
“Okay, and while I do this, someone has to talk to the guy who found her. Then her boss, colleagues, the usual.” He stopped and looked at Columbo, realizing he was already going into overdrive. “Be damned if I’m going to organize this investigation. Let me go talk to the family, though I doubt we’ll get anything useful from them today.”
Pamela followed Alessandro to his desk. “How did your recital go last night?”
“Very well, thank you.”
“Think you’ll start performing again?”
“Yes, I do.”
“There’s been a change in you. Wanting to play again, not trying to link the Alberti woman’s death with Katarina’s. I can’t help but wonder if there’s someone new in your life. Is it the chattering-teeth girl?”
He smiled. Not much he could hide from his partner.
“Are you sure it’s a good idea?”
“We’ll see, but keep it to yourself, okay? I’d never hear the end of it from these guys. She’s leaving today for a week in New York.” He left out the kiss, the very thought of it now making him feel warm. The dreams he’d had last night had been of the X-rated variety. He smiled again. “Besides, I’m only following your advice. Remember when I was filling out the paperwork and you told me it would’ve been easier to ask her out on a date?”
“I was kidding.” Pamela rolled her eyes. “Does she know she’s dating a billionaire?”
“I think she may have been given an inkling last night. I haven’t let on I’m anything other than an underpaid, overworked cop. If she likes the poor me, I figure she’s going to love the rich me even more. I’m being cavalier, but I have to be sure it’s real. We’ll see what happens when she returns from New York. Now let me go. The Alberti family needs to be told.”
He went back to his locker, thinking how when he hung his jacket there only a few minutes earlier, he assumed he’d be spending his day catching up on paperwork. He never locked it—after all, if you couldn’t trust your fellow police officers, who could you trust? Besides, the locks were so ancient, even a sharp tug could dislodge them. A good thing, as they sometimes locked themselves—a purely explicable phenomenon that Columbo blamed the station ghost for.
It was locked now, and Alessandro gave it an extra-hard tug. The door swung open, and what was inside made Alessandro jump back. “What the hell?” he exclaimed, his heart pounding.
Out of the shadows, two black empty eye sockets stared at him over the long hideous beak of a plague doctor!
He stood still for a moment, then realized his mistake. He’d opened the wrong locker door.
“What is it, Rossi?” Columbo asked. “You look like you’ve seen the station ghost.”
“Or more killer wind-up teeth!” the receptionist chimed in.
He had no chance to respond. “That’s my locker,” Pamela said with more irritation than Alessandro thought the situation deserved. It had been a mistake, after all.
“Sorry, Pamela. I wasn’t paying attention.” He noticed that the mask was hung over a long black cloak before Pamela slammed the locker door closed. “Going to a Carnival party tonight?”
“Yeah,” she said unenthusiastically.
“That’ll be fun. What’s Fabio going as?”
Pamela turned away. “I probably won’t go,” she said evasively, and Alessandro decided to let the subject drop. It wasn’t like Pamela to be so short with him.
“Sorry,” she said. “Tired today. I’ll come with you to see the family. No one should have to do that on their own.”
“Don’t worry about it. Just make sure someone talks to the dumpster guy. And to Katarina’s brother, Rocco, too.”
She nodded just as her cellphone rang, then excused herself to take the call.
“What’s going on with her?” Columbo asked Alessandro.
“She says she’s tired, and I believe her. I can’t believe the hours she works—not just here but at Fabio’s bar too.”
“You’re probably right, but rumor has it you’re seeing someone and she’s jealous—”
“You know better than to listen to rumor.” Now it was his turn to be short.
Columbo raised an eyebrow.
“Sorry, boss,” Alessandro said contritely. “But it wouldn’t be the first time the guys have speculated on our partnership. I assure you it has always been completely professional. And whatever her reasons are for being out of sorts, it has nothing to do with me.”
“Fine,” Columbo said. “I’ll believe you, if only because the last thing in this office I want to deal with is some jilted-lover fiasco.”
“I think you’ve been watching too many cop shows,” Alessandro said. “But I’ll see if I can find out later what’s bothering her.”
Alessandro left the station and walked to the vaporetto stop. He got off at Piazzale Roma, the sprawling parking lot on the city’s edge. His own car—a high-powered Rossi sports car—was in a private garage, but today he was on official business, so he took one of the Guardia di Finanza cars.
Alessandro crossed the causeway that connected Venice to the mainland, the only land link there was. It made Venice a safe city, since the causeway could be closed with a few minutes’ notice. But it hadn’t been safe enough for Katarina or Vanessa.
He liked the Euganean Hills and had driven this way often. Made up of extinct volcanos, they stood out against the sky as green triangles, like the mountains a child would draw.
He found the Alberti home without difficulty. A neat white house, it sat back from the road, its green shutters open to let in the weak winter sun. On either side of the drive and extending beyond the house were rows of grapevines, dormant now until spring brought them back to life.
The door was opened by a woman in her late fifties. “It’s not good news,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
“I’m sorry,” Alessandro said quietly.
�
�Vanessa is my daughter-in-law.” Her voice remained steady, although Alessandro didn’t think it would stay that way for long. “I’ll go get my son—Vanessa’s husband, Eduard. The children are at my daughter’s.”
A few minutes later, Alessandro was walking in the vineyards with Eduard. Crows rose from the ground in a black cloud, their raucous cries filling the air. Alessandro watched the birds until they were only a dark smudge in the distance. In English, he thought, a flock of crows is called a murder of crows.
Alessandro asked Eduard if he knew why it had happened, if there was something he hadn’t told the police when he reported her missing.
“A couple of months ago,” Eduard said, “she told me she noticed a strange pattern on certain flights. At the last moment, someone would arrive with bags that needed to be checked in. That in itself is nothing unusual, but in this case, rather than the bags going on the conveyor belt, the same baggage handler would suddenly appear and take them himself, saying they were too late to go the usual way and he would take care of them.”
“Did she say how many times she’d seen this happen?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Did she report it to anyone?”
“I told her to go to her supervisor with it.”
“And did she?”
“I don’t know. I honestly didn’t think about it again. Until now.”
Alessandro could hear the guilt in the man’s voice, and he was sure he was already blaming himself. Alessandro also had the feeling he was holding something else back, maybe something he couldn’t quite face yet.
“I guess if she didn’t mention it again, it wasn’t anything,” Eduard said. “It’s just when you asked if there was something I hadn’t told the police . . . I didn’t want her to return to work after Tazia was born, but with the financial crisis . . .” He stopped, clearly trying to keep from breaking down completely.
Was this what he was holding back? Alessandro wondered. Had he been afraid that if she went to her supervisor, she might lose her job? He wouldn’t push him further for now.
“I lost my wife too,” Alessandro said kindly. “I know what it’s like to keep thinking you could have done something that would have prevented it from happening. All I can say is call the grief counselors right away. They can help. And thank you for telling me about the airport. We’ll certainly look into it.”
He still needed someone from the family to positively identify the body, and Eduard said he’d have his brother-in-law drive him to Venice after he talked to his children.
On the way back to the house, Eduard was quiet, and when they reached it, he shook Alessandro’s hand. “I remember something else. She said it was always a direct flight to New York. She was to work that check-in counter today.”
Alessandro felt a lurch in his chest. Olivia would be on the noon flight to New York today.
Eduard’s voice cracked on saying good-bye, and Alessandro could see the tears were not far behind.
Alessandro called Pamela’s cell from the car to tell her everything he’d learned. “Can you confirm a direct flight to New York today at noon?” he asked.
“I’ll check online.” It was quiet for a moment, then Pamela was back. “There is. Venice to New York JFK. No other stops. 1200 hours.”
“Can you meet me at the airport?”
“I’m just about to head there. Columbo wants me to talk to Vanessa’s supervisor.”
“I think Vanessa Alberti might have become mixed up in some kind of smuggling. Her husband said she was going to report it, but I have a feeling he’s not being completely honest about that. We’re going to have to talk to him some more, but I do think he feels guilty and is trying to tip us off in his own way. Have Columbo send someone over to keep an eye on him and tell him it’s for his own protection.”
“You think something’s going down today?”
“I hope not,” he replied, “because Olivia’s on that flight.”
“Chattering-teeth Olivia?”
“Same one.”
“She certainly knows how to find trouble.”
Alessandro started to object, but Pamela cut him off. “Don’t worry, partner. I’ll fill Columbo in.”
“Would you leave out the part—”
“You don’t even need to ask. I’ll see you at the airport. But this better not be a ruse to get one last glimpse of those lovely violet eyes.”
Chapter 16
Where the hell is he? This is cutting it too close. Once she gets on that plane with that suitcase, I’m home free.
She’s looking right at me and doesn’t have a clue. This better work, damn it.
Chapter 17
Olivia checked the messages on her iPhone for the tenth time in less than five minutes. “Where the hell are you, Dino?” she mumbled aloud.
She called Dino, getting his voicemail. She left a message, then sent a text for good measure. Nothing.
She tried Silvio, but his phone was off. When did Silvio ever turn off his phone?
None of this would be happening if they’d just stuck to the plan Silvio had texted her the night before. But this morning she’d received a text from Dino, saying he had errands to run and that another water taxi would pick her up at 10 a.m. He assured her he’d be waiting at the airport dock at eleven with the suitcase of glass, but there was no sign of him when she arrived and no sign of him now.
Impatiently, she paced the dock at the airport with her own suitcase. The check-in counter for New York was going to close in less than thirty minutes; it was going to take at least fifteen to get to the terminal, and she still had to check her own bag and get her boarding pass.
She’d packed her gloves in her suitcase and now rubbed her hands together to warm them. A cold, damp wind blew in from the lagoon, and the lead-colored sky threatened to open up at any moment. Go ahead and rain on me, she silently dared the clouds. It’s not like this day can get any worse.
It didn’t help that she hadn’t slept. She’d gone to bed wanting to dream of Alessandro’s kisses and instead was forced to listen to her upstairs neighbors fight. They stomped around above her bedroom screaming obscenities at each other until after two, when they presumably made up, since the stomping of feet and screaming were replaced by the rhythmic thumping of the headboard and cries of Harder! Harder! She’d jammed the pillow over her head, but it hadn’t helped much.
Just when it had felt like she’d fallen asleep, she’d woken to the sound of someone hammering on metal pipes. She looked at the clock: 7 a.m. The room was icy cold. No heat. Going downstairs in her bathrobe to investigate, she discovered repairmen at work in the boiler room off the ground-floor hall. The boiler room was ankle deep in water, and tools were strewn across the hall floor. They informed her it would be off until noon at least, and so, shivering, she dressed after an ice-cold shower.
Before putting her iPhone in her purse, she’d quickly checked her email, only to find a message from the student-loan people saying that she’d missed her last payment and her case would go to collections in one week’s time.
Embarrassed, she texted Marco and told him he’d missed her payment. She hit Send before remembering Venice was two hours ahead of Iceland—it was only just after 6 a.m. there, and he was staying at a spa with his new beau. She was surprised when he replied right away with an apology and a promise to get on it immediately.
Just as she’d finished dealing with that, she got the text from Dino letting her know he’d be meeting her at the airport.
Oh yes, and to top the morning off, the milk had curdled in her coffee, and she’d been forced to pour it down the sink.
It was the first day of Carnival, and the airport swarmed with people, some already in costume. A few women were dressed in elaborate gowns, the feathers on their hats waving in the cold wind, and someone lingering near the ticket office wore the long black robe and h
ideous beaked mask of a plague doctor. He or she appeared to be alone—waiting for someone maybe? Olivia shuddered involuntarily, remembering the one she’d seen on her first day in Venice. It had been so creepy, and she didn’t find it any less creepy now.
Suddenly a little girl dressed as a clown crashed into Olivia and fell at her feet. It was hard to say who was more startled, Olivia or the child. She helped the little clown to her feet just as the mother caught up. “Come on,” the mother said impatiently as she grabbed the child’s hand. “We’re going to miss our boat.”
The plague doctor had disappeared, and Olivia once again scanned the choppy waters of the lagoon, willing one of the many water taxis to be the one carrying the glass. Another taxi approached the dock, and she ran toward it, thinking she recognized the driver as Dino, only to discover it wasn’t. The boat let off two businessmen and took on a couple more before pulling out again.
Sighing, Olivia glanced at her phone yet again and was about to try Dino one final time when at last he pulled up.
“Sorry I’m late. Engine troubles,” he said, hoisting a large black suitcase onto the dock.
Olivia looked at the suitcase in despair. “This isn’t the one Luigi had yesterday. It’s too big for carry-on!”
“Don’t worry. Just check it. Luigi packed it well, and it’s clearly marked as fragile. It’ll be fine. Now hurry, so you don’t miss your plane!”
Olivia thought he could have offered to help, but there was no time to argue. Pulling both suitcases behind her, she ran awkwardly toward the terminal, hoping Luigi had done an especially good job packing the glass.
But she didn’t have time to worry about that. She was just going to make it, as long as airport security didn’t check her luggage for bombs again. Then she almost laughed, remembering how she and Alessandro had joked about that just last night.
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