Michelangelo's Ghost

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Michelangelo's Ghost Page 23

by Gigi Pandian


  “That’s not what I meant. The ghost only cries out when it rains. I have a feeling you’re going to meet it tonight.”

  “This is much more sensible than your idea,” Lane said twenty minutes later as we sat in the warm dry car on the side of the road at the highest hilltop we could find.

  “My idea of waiting inside the Ogre’s mouth was spookier though.”

  “I need all the comfort I can get right now. I thought the waiter was going to have a stroke when I asked him if they could speed up our dinners so we could leave quickly. Either that or kick us out of the restaurant.”

  “We got out of there in time. It’s not raining heavily yet. That’s when we heard the ghost the last time.”

  Lane glanced at his phone.

  “Looking at the time, or for a message from Ava?” I asked.

  “Both. She can’t ignore us forever. She has to either come clean to your brother or find a way to convince you not to tell him what’s going on. How’s she going to do that?”

  “What would you do in that situation?”

  “You already know what I did in a similar situation. I told you everything. Maybe they’re having a heart-to-heart conversation as we speak.”

  “Somehow I doubt it. Are you sure we shouldn’t be outside?” I made a move for the car door, but Lane took my hand to stop me. I said, “We’ve only seen one car go by the whole time we’ve been up here. It’s not like anyone will see us.”

  “How will getting soaked to the bone help us?”

  “I don’t know. But I feel like we should be closer to the action.”

  “I thought we didn’t know where the action was,” Lane pointed out.

  “There are two spots related to the ghost. The Park of Monsters and the nearby unclaimed forest where nobody wants to go.”

  “I wish you’d stop calling it ‘the ghost.’”

  “Do you have a better name for it?”

  A ghostly wail pierced the air.

  Lane’s grip on my hand tightened. With his other hand, he locked the car door.

  “That is one freaky sound,” he whispered.

  “It sounds different tonight.”

  “Like it’s another person impersonating the ghost?”

  “No, that’s not it. It’s like…tonight the sound is less intense. When it was pouring two nights ago, I’m sure the shriek carried for miles. Tonight, her cry is weaker, but we can still hear it. It’s nearby.”

  “Thanks for that cheery thought.” Lane let go of my hand and twisted around in the car to look out the car windows in every direction.

  “The scream isn’t just softer. There’s something different about it. But still only sounding once.”

  I could barely see the rocky hillside forest that surrounded the car. Raindrops tapped faintly on the windshield. The water fell so gently that I could barely hear it.

  “The strength of the rain,” I whispered. “Mi trovate quando diluvia. ‘You’ll find me here when it’s pouring rain.’ Why not just say when it’s raining? I know it could just have been an overly dramatic statement since he was an artist, but I feel like I’m missing something.”

  “You’re talking about the quote from Lazzaro’s sketchbook?”

  “Stop squirming. You’re making me nervous. Yes, his note next to the Orcus drawing that said we’d find him there when it was pouring rain.”

  “You’re missing or adding a word.”

  “What?”

  “The Italian and English don’t match up.”

  “I’ll never forget that quote. I memorized the original because Lilith and Stefano had translated it differently. Here.” I scrolled through the photos on my phone until I found the picture I’d taken of that page of the sketchbook.

  “Mi trovate quando diluvia,” Lane read. “I’m fairly certain that translates to ‘You’ll find me when it’s pouring rain’ or ‘you’ll find me when it’s flooding’—but not ‘you’ll find me here.’”

  “You’re right. That’s what Stefano said.” I groaned. “I’ve been filling in an extra word in my mind because it’s what made sense...”

  “Why do you suddenly look like you’re a million miles away?”

  “Because I know where Lazzaro Allegri’s treasure is.”

  Chapter 50

  “Okay,” I said, “I don’t know the exact location of Lazzaro’s paintings, but I’ve figured out what’s going on.”

  “Because of a word you inadvertently added to a translation?” Lane asked.

  “It was the piece I was missing. The text didn’t mean he was seeking shelter when it rained. It meant exactly what it said: that people would be able to find him when it was pouring rain.”

  “What am I missing, Jones? I don’t see what that has to do with his studio, the ghost, and the rain.”

  “The scream only sounds during the rain because it’s the sound of a 16th-century machine. The reason the wail is heard only once is because the rain pushes open a lever.”

  Comprehension lit up Lane’s face.

  “The clue was in the ghost story,” I continued. “The original ghost story holds that Antonio Allegri is the ghost, but the modern version has it as his wife. That’s because when the machine wasn’t so old, its rusty gears had a lower pitch. But over the centuries of not being maintained, the sound became more and more of a high-pitched screech.”

  “That’s brilliant, Jones.”

  “That’s why the ghost is only heard when it rains. And tonight, the rain is lighter but has been going on for longer, so the water must have built up more slowly. That’s why tonight’s ghost scream was softer and I don’t expect it could be heard from a long distance. It has to be nearby.”

  I reached for the door handle.

  “Hang on,” Lane said. “Where are you going?”

  “To find Lazzaro Allegri’s hiding place before the rain stops and the opening closes back up.”

  “You sure this machine is in Lazzaro’s hidden spot?”

  “Positive. Well, nearly positive. The theory fits. So many Renaissance gardens were once filled with automata that were operated by hydraulics.”

  Lane groaned. “I should have thought of it as soon as I heard that sound. It was the prerogative of bored noblemen to create wild sculpture gardens. Amusement parks for the wealthy during the Renaissance, powered with hydraulics.”

  “The clue was in the translation the whole time. Stefano Gopal thought Lilith Vine had misinterpreted mi trovate quando diluvia. Lilith believed it referred to a biblical flood and Stefano believed it meant a shelter from the pouring rain. That’s why Lilith suspected Lazzaro’s artwork was near one of the Park of Monsters’ creatures that looked like it was rising from the ocean, whereas Stefano was sure it meant Lazzaro could hide from the rain inside Orcus, the Ogre king of the Underworld. They were both wrong. Lazzaro meant exactly what he wrote, that the pouring rain was one way to open the door to his hiding spot. ‘You’ll find me when it’s pouring rain.’”

  Lane shook his head. “I should have seen it. You showed me the sketchbooks.”

  “We all missed it. And nearly all of those Renaissance gardens with moving sculptures have fallen into complete disrepair, so I didn’t think about it as a possibility. In this modern age of computerized machines, most people don’t care about such inventions. Sanjay was telling me about a hydraulic sculpture garden in Germany that’s still operational. The gardens at Hellbrunn Palace. When he talked about his visit there, he sounded like a kid meeting Santa Claus.”

  “Art historians love to debate each other about whether things like that count as art or not.”

  “Why wouldn’t a Renaissance sculpture garden count as art?” I asked.

  “Because those sculptures are primarily rude jokes. Bored noblemen used their hydraulic toys to spray water on unsuspecting visitors. There were even w
ater holes on stone benches that sprayed guests’ seats when the host was ready for them to leave. But in the case of Hellbrunn, the four-hundred-year-old automata are still in working order because they’ve been kept up. I’m not sure in this case—”

  “Lots of creations have survived without being tended to. Just look at our Park of Monsters, which is only a little worse for wear. In the 1950s all people had to do was cut away the overgrowth. I know it’s not powered by hydraulics like Lazzaro’s hidden garden, but that’s why Lazzaro’s deteriorating machine makes that horrid screeching sound.”

  Now that I’d figured out the secret of our false ghost, the sound really did sound much more like gears squealing than the moan of a ghost. Human imagination was a funny thing. I laughed ruefully.

  “What is it?”

  “Human imagination. I know how the poor actor in the 1960s must have died. Francesco said that after he went in search of the ghost, he came back injured, started having fits like he was possessed, then died with a look of horror on his face. He wasn’t possessed. But if he found a rusty old lever—”

  “Tetanus.”

  I nodded. “Which causes muscles to contract, causing fits. And it especially affects the jaw.”

  “Making it look like he died of fright.”

  “We’ve covered everything. Now can we please get out of here and find this treasure?”

  We zipped up our jackets, turned on our flashlights, and headed out into the light rain. I wished again that I had my sneakers, but my heels would have to do.

  “I don’t know if this is a good idea,” Lane whispered as his flashlight bounced against the earth. In the darkness, I couldn’t tell whether or not there was a path. “I should have put in my contact lenses.”

  “I’m sure it’s around here somewhere. We’re in that no-man’s-land between Allegri and Orsini land. The origins of the ghost story are based right here. This has to be it.”

  “If there’s no ghost,” Lane said, “then what the hell is that walking toward us?”

  Chapter 51

  I held my finger to Lane’s lips. “Ghosts don’t use flashlights,” I whispered.

  We turned off our own flashlights. The “ghost” switched off his as well.

  Lane cursed under his breath, but otherwise the dark night was still, with only the sounds of an owl and the softly falling rain hitting the lush greenery that surrounded us. We stood there for several minutes, and I felt myself begin to shiver.

  Raindrops gathered at the tip of my nose. I wiped them away, but felt a sneeze coming on. I couldn’t stop it, so I buried my nose in the crook of my arm. If our ghost was close, he would hear it and know where we were. But we still didn’t know where he was.

  “My eyes are adjusting,” Lane whispered. He took my hand and pulled me slowly up the hill.

  “We’re going the wrong way,” I whispered back.

  “No, we’re not. We’re not going to find anything without our flashlights. And we’re not using our flashlights when a dangerous unknown person is out there tracking us.”

  “But who—”

  “We already know of more than one person with bad intentions.”

  He had a point. I didn’t object as we made our way back to the car.

  Lane unlocked the door for me, but before getting inside himself, he walked a few dozen yards in each direction. I turned up the heat and eased out of my wet jacket. Even though I could see him, I locked the doors, only unlocking them once I could make out Lane’s face at the window.

  “What were you doing?” I asked.

  “Looking for the car of whoever is following us.”

  “Did you find it?”

  He shook his head and started the engine. “No. They’re clever. I almost wish it had been a ghost.”

  “I wish we had that fourth sketchbook,” I said. “Neither scholarly research nor pretending we’re in the Scooby Gang is working.”

  We were back at the villa. Since Ava and Mahilan were gone, Lane was sharing the master bedroom with me. “I bet that sketchbook has the information about where this hydraulic hidden room is located. Do you think room service runs this late?”

  “At a place this posh, I’m sure it does.” He tossed me the menu.

  “If only Lilith hadn’t tried to be so clever by feeding me only portions of information because she wanted me hooked before she arrived and saved the day, then I’d have that fourth sketchbook. She has to be the one who had it. Maybe I should call Tamarind and have her break into Lilith’s house after all.”

  “Jaya.”

  “Hmm?” I said, studying the room service menu. Sneaking through the rainy Italian countryside expends a lot of calories.

  “Do you even know what you’re saying?”

  “Not really. I’m starving. I’m confused. And my brother has been kidnapped by your not-dead ex-girlfriend. Of course I don’t know what I’m saying. I don’t even know what I’m thinking anymore.” I threw the menu across the room.

  “It’s late. We should get some sleep.”

  “I can’t believe I got all the timing about Lilith wrong because of Ava,” I grumbled.

  “Not all of it,” Lane said. “The only thing she obscured is the break-in at your office.”

  “Meaning the ghost could be someone who’s been here in Italy this whole time.” I thought about everyone I’d met here who could possibly know about Lazzaro’s paintings. “We’ve got Francesco, the elderly actor with a flair for the dramatic. He knows more about the history of this region than most people.”

  “He could have known about Lazzaro’s artwork, but not how to find it.”

  “Then there’s Niccolò, the kid who works at the Park of Monsters. He knows I’m looking into this because he translated materials for me at a local library. I met him by chance, and when he found out I was American he wanted my help practicing his English. And at the library, he got help from the librarian too. Orazio. He doesn’t speak English but worked hard to help me. Neither of them seems likely.”

  “I doubt it, but it’s good to consider all possibilities. What about your ‘chance’ meeting with Niccolò? Was it truly chance?”

  “I got lost while on a run, and he passed by on his scooter. I was running on paths until I sought out a main road to find help. There’s no way he was following me, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “And the librarian?”

  “Orazio was far more interested in the wine I brought him than this particular history. That leaves Enzo and Brunella Allegri, the distant relations of Lazzaro who live in the ancestral castle. But they’re the ones who loaned Lazzaro’s four sketchbooks to Lilith. They told me about it themselves. And they’re the only ones with no possible motive, because they’d own whatever Lilith discovered.”

  “Who else did Lilith meet with here?”

  “You know, I never thought about that.” It was a stupid omission, but I’d been so distracted by other things I hadn’t asked that specific question. “Does it even matter at this point? Who cares if there’s someone who feels like dressing up as a ghost? If they weren’t in California to hurt Lilith—”

  “You’re forgetting something important, Jones.”

  “Of course I’m forgetting something important,” I snapped. “I’m tired and starving. So, um, what am I forgetting?”

  “Lilith was drugged. Not stabbed or shot. There are ways of making someone take something even if you’re not physically there with them.”

  “How? Like threatening them on the phone, saying that something bad will happen if they don’t do as told?”

  Lane shrugged. “It’s a possibility.”

  “She wasn’t being forced. Her beloved husband was dead. They had no children. There was no one she loved who could be used against her.” Poor Lilith. “All we know for sure is that Ava and my brother are missing. We have the sol
ution to where Lazzaro’s paintings might be if they survived, but we don’t know how to find it until the next time it rains. And, if our unknown ‘ghost’ killed Lilith Vine, he did it in a way so ingenious we can’t fathom it. Either by transporting himself from Italy to California, or by forcing her to drug herself.”

  My phone rang, startling both of us.

  “Your brother is on his way back to you,” Ava’s clipped voice said. “He’ll be there soon.”

  I let out a sigh. I wasn’t sure if it was relief or sadness. “You told him?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Then why is he—”

  “I’m out of the game, Jaya. All I ask is that you think about what’s best for Mahilan.”

  “You want me to put in a good word for you?” I asked, staring incredulously at the phone.

  “If Mahilan loves me as much as I love him,” Ava said, “don’t you think we’ll both be happier together?”

  I was speechless.

  “Let me talk to her,” Lane said.

  When I handed over the phone, she’d already disconnected.

  Just then I heard the sound of a key turning in the lock.

  Chapter 52

  “Fish,” I said, relief flooding through all five feet of me as I embraced my brother. I looked behind him. “Where’s Ava?”

  “Her son is sick, so she had to go see him. I offered to go with her, but I guess she wasn’t ready for that level of commitment—having me meet her kid. On my own, I thought it made more sense for me to come back here to get you.” He gave a start, noticing Lane’s presence for the first time.

  Lane stood and extended his hand. I introduced them.

  “Reports of your disappearance have been greatly exaggerated, I take it,” Mahilan said with a chuckle.

  “You were right, Fish. He hadn’t been kidnapped. I blew things way out of proportion.”

  “I’ve known you since birth, JJ. I know you go all in when you have an idea.”

 

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