by Sharon Timm
Luca's eyebrows raised admiringly. He looked at over at his men. "Conosce denti, pure." he said to them. They looked at her and nodded approvingly.
"What did you say?" she demanded. She felt like she was at a disadvantage once again. She didn't like the feeling.
Luca held his palms out in his now familiar innocent gesture. "Nothing bad, just that you know teeth."
"I know a lot of things Luca, and one thing I know is the bad guy is not in this book." She flipped the final page and closed the book.
Luca leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. "Maybe we can do a composite sketch."
They huddled around a table for nearly an hour using overlays from an Identi-Kit until the face of the man they were looking for emerged clearly from the sketch pad. Sam grabbed a pencil and blackened the appropriate missing tooth and the image was complete. The composite sketch was printed and Luca said it would be posted around town and faxed to all of the Carabinieri stations in northern Italy.
Sam signed the copy of her statement. She hoped it said what she'd been told. She couldn't tell. The only things she recognized on the page was her name, rank and service number. A place at the bottom was provided for her signature and Luca's was next to hers. She thought it strange to be signing her name next to his. Strange, yet somehow familiar.
The morning was gone. It was lunch time and she was hungry again. She'd gulped down a cup of coffee and had nibbled on a sweet roll with jelly before Luca had dragged her down to the station. She would starve to death, she thought, if she didn't get away from this man.
He read her mind. "Listen, I still owe you a bite to eat. Last night didn't work out so well. Can I buy you lunch somewhere? Will you come?"
His request was a relief to her. It put off the inevitable end to this adventure she was wrapped up in. She hated to admit it but she didn't want it to end. She wanted to have lunch with Luca Danieli, but she was not about to give him the satisfaction of having won the match. "I'll go with you to lunch, but I will order my own food. The menu has to be in English this time. My rules."
Luca nodded. "Your rules, Chief Logan."
"You don't have to call me, `Chief Logan'."
"Samantha, then?" he asked.
She loved the way he said her name.
He led her past the dungeon, out of the station and into the glorious light of a fabulous spring day. A light breeze wafted across the water and onto the quay. A group of ever present pigeons fluttered across the blue, perfect sky, unblemished by clouds. Luca led her quickly down the wide landing and toward the open, paved piazza under a massive brick bell tower she had seen the day before.
"What is that?" she asked Luca.
"That is the bell tower of Saint Mark's Square." It used to be a light house and a watch tower when Venice was its own republic. It fell over about a hundred years ago and was rebuilt early in this century."
As they entered the square a flock of the ubiquitous birds parted before them. "There sure are a lot of pigeons around."
Luca nodded. "Pigeons were presented to the Doge of Venice when the city was the major sea power in the world. The Doge released the pigeons symbolically at a special ceremony. There have always been a lot of pigeons here."
"You know a lot about Venice." Sam commented.
"I should take you for a tour of the city," he suggested.
"Luca," she said crisply. "You're starving me, here!"
He quickened his step and led her across St. Mark's Square. He steered her toward a vendor's stand and picked a book off the shelf. It was a tourist's guide to Venice. "It's even in English," he said.
He was being pleasant but the underlying sarcasm was still there. She resented his recollection of the way she had acted the night before. She resented him, period.
He reached into his pocket but she caught his hand before he could pay. She handed the vendor some of the purple bill and received some smaller brown ones in change.
Luca selected a table at a sidewalk restaurant in the ground floor gallery of one of the palaces which overlooked Saint Mark's Square. He pulled a chair out for her and seated her first. It wasn't a forced gesture. It was natural and unrehearsed. It struck Sam that he didn't do it to impress her, or even for her. He did it because he was Luca, and that's what Luca would do.
He left her at the table and slipped between the other tables to confer with the waiter. She watched him go, realizing for the first time that he was wearing civilian clothes. He wore a pair of dark gray wool pants cut stylishly, with a pleat on each leg just in front of the pocket. He wore a black, cable knit, fisherman sweater which accentuated his broad shoulders. His sleeves were pulled halfway up his muscular forearms. A gold necklace was just visible across the back of his neck. A Rolex watch adorned his left wrist.
He'd been with her since breakfast, he hadn't changed. Why hadn't she noticed before? she wondered.
Luca returned with an English speaking waiter who placed a basket of bread on the table, greeted her, and handed her a menu written entirely in English. Sam glanced at Luca who was smiling like a proud little boy.
"Your rules, Samantha," he said.
The way he said her name was fresh and new. It was almost as if he had given her that name. She almost believed she'd never heard the name before. She inhaled sharply, feeling strangely out of breath.
"I need to eat something," she thought. She glanced at her menu, pretending to choose something to eat. The words danced in front of her eyes, but she skimmed over them without reading. She was too busy with her own thoughts.
She had been on the verge of tears the night before because this man had so tormented her. She had been cool and in control today. She was proud of herself. Sitting here with Luca, she was perplexed by a feeling of loss. The case was over. She was finished with the strange incident that had brought them together. She wondered why she was not relieved to have it end. She should be happy to be rid of the man who set her nerves on edge. It should be easy for her to just forget about it, walk away and get on with her time off.
Maybe that was it, she reasoned. Maybe being wrapped up in an adventure with this aggravating man was preferable to the dead time. Maybe fighting with herself and with this man replaced the obsession of her work. Maybe it was just self- preservation.
She had felt the warmth of his hands and been impressed with his strength when she fell into him on the boat. She had to admit that he was an attractive man. Still, she rationalized, he was just a member of the cast of a very weird play she had found herself wrapped up in. When lunch was over, he would be gone and she would read her tourist guide, see the sights, write some letters, and find ways to fill up the dead time. It was Saturday, she wasn't allowed back on board until the following Saturday.
The waiter returned and wrenched her back to reality. Luca was staring at her again. She fumbled with the menu, chose the third item down the list and asked for a large soft drink. Luca said he would have the same and handed the menus back to the waiter. He said nothing when Sam instructed the waiter to write up separate checks. The waiter hurried away.
While they waited for their lunch, an eerie silence fell between them. There was nothing to say. Luca was the first to speak. "I noticed from the police report that you are only twenty seven. That is very young for a Chief. Congratulations."
Sam nodded coolly, but did not dignify the comment with a response. She'd long ago stopped making excuses for her success. She was a Chief because she was good at what she did. She no longer elaborated. She no longer cared what people thought. She had never told anyone why she had been so driven to succeed. She was not about to start now.
Luca read her mind and once again broke the awkward silence. "I didn't mean to make an inappropriate comment. I think I understand you a bit. I made Maresciallo much faster than any of my colleagues. I was promoted to my present rank of Second Maresciallo over many people I worked for. I commented on your age out of respect. I had forgotten how sensitive that topic is for people like us.
I'm sorry."
A little shaken by his accurate analysis, Sam fumbled for the right words. "It's a comment that has been made a lot. People don't come right out and say it, but they hint that anyone who advances that quickly has somehow cheated along the way. After a while you ignore the comments. I didn't mean to be rude," she said. "It's just force of habit."
"I understand," he said eagerly. "Really. I am thirty seven," Luca confided. "Most people of my rank are old and gray. I am just a baby."
She laughed out loud. "Guess what the other Chiefs call me on the ship."
"Bella Strega Malefica?" he queried in a playful tone.
"They call me `Baby'" she said. "What did you just call me?"
"Nothing bad," he said with an innocent smile, betrayed by the laughter in his eyes. She didn't believe him. She would find out what it meant. She remembered the words and repeated them several times to herself. Her thoughts were interrupted by the waiter, bringing them their food.
Sam had chosen the panino, a delicious raw ham sandwich with cheese on a fresh crisp round roll. She bit into it hungrily.
She tried to make light conversation. "Do you live right here, in Venice?" she asked. What a stupid thing to ask! She chided herself. The last she wanted this man to believe is that she was interested in where he lived. The next stupid thing she would ask is if she could go home with him. She wished she could take back her words.
"I live at the station, with my men. There is an apartment there for me and my family, but since I don't have a family... I mean, since I am not married, I let one of my married detectives use the apartment, and I stay in one of the other rooms."
"So, you live at work too?" she asked. Everything was coming out wrong today. Without meaning to, she had pointed out one more thing they had in common. She hoped he would miss the point. He didn't. Luca didn't miss a thing.
"I live at work during the week," he acknowledged, "but unlike you, I don't have to be sent away to relax. On weekends, I go home to my family's winery near Trieste."
Sam glared at him for his subtle jab. As she suspected, he'd picked up on the XO's exchange of glances with the CO on the ship. "How do you know about that?" she asked, bluffing.
"Oh, I would not say I know it. I just put a couple of pieces together. Your Executive Officer said you were given the week off. You didn't look very happy about it."
"And because of this you assume I was sent away?"
His eyes danced with amusement. Sam was beginning to hate him again.
"I suspected it even before one of your Shore Patrolmen mentioned it to one of my men.
Sam narrowed her eyes at him but said nothing.
Luca pretended not to notice. He continued to tell her about his home. "With our little mystery, I do not think I will get home this weekend."
"Is it far from Venice?" she was trying to be polite, yet each question she asked could be misinterpreted for something deeper, something deeply troubling. She braced herself for what she knew was coming next. She didn't have long to wait.
"Would you like to come to my home with me?" Luca's face betrayed his thoughts. He looked away quickly, visibly upset with himself.
Sam answered quickly, too quickly, "No, I mean, no thank you. I am finally finished with what I had to do for your case. I have things to do." Like what? she wondered. "I will be much too busy. Besides, you will have to stay and work on the case."
Luca looked relieved. "You are right," he said glancing at his watch. "I have spent too much time away already." He took advantage of the excuse to escape, stood abruptly and circled the table toward her. He took her hand and brought it to his lips. "It has been a pleasure meeting you, Chief Samantha Logan. Thank you for your help." He turned and walked away without another word.
Samantha felt a kind of panic rising up inside her and threatening to spill over into a word, a laugh, a scream. She wasn't sure. She motioned to the waiter to get her check. The waiter returned empty handed. "The Maresciallo paid in advance, Signorina. Is there anything else I can bring for you?"
She started to say no, but the memory of the cappuccino she had tasted that morning came back to her suddenly. "I'll have a cappuccino," she said, "but I'll pay for that myself."
CHAPTER FIVE
That maddening man! Samantha fumed to herself. She sat at her table staring across St. Mark's Square, her arms tightly crossed in front of her, the fingers of one hand drummed impatiently on her arm. She stamped her foot and crossed her legs and thought back to each of his irritating tricks. He could not leave until he was back on top. He always had to have the upper hand. He had lured her in by playing by her rules. He hadn't even flinched when she asked for separate checks.
"Damn you!" she said out loud.
"Damn, me?" a voice behind her startled her. She turned and looked at the mountain of a man standing behind her.
Doug pulled up a chair at the table and waved for a waiter. "So, Sam, I hear you got off the ship and got arrested by the cops."
Sam balled a fist and held it under Doug's nose. She mustered a threatening look on her face. She tried to look cool and serious.
"I'm kidding, Sam." he said apologetically, holding his hands up in a gesture of mock surrender. The same gesture Luca had begun using with her. "The rumor did get around the ship pretty fast," he explained, "but the XO had the word passed that, not only were you not in trouble, but you'd saved someone's life. The guys on the quarterdeck were actually cheering." He reached out a meaty fist and punched her lightly on the shoulder. "You're amazing, Sam. You even come out looking good when you get thrown off the ship!"
Sam shook her head. "A guy got stabbed. I gave him first aid. I made a statement to the police. No big deal." She wished she could dismiss the past two days from her mind as easily.
The waiter brought Sam her coffee. Doug asked for a menu. "Have that panino thing," Sam suggested. She measured his broad shoulders with her eyes. "On second thought, Doug, you'd better order two." The waiter smiled at the suggestion and Doug nodded his consent.
"So what really happened, Sam?" Doug pressed. "The Sheriff said you were pretty mad."
Her eyes flashed. "Nothing happened!" she said too angrily. "Nothing at all!"
Doug sat back in his chair and studied her in silence. Sam glared at him for a moment and then began to tell him about the attack and the misunderstanding, leaving out some of the details.
Doug knew her too well. He had known her for years and through some rough times. She knew how well he knew her and was painfully aware that she often told him too much. She confided in him and leaned on him. He'd told her it was okay, and that she could trust him and that he'd be there for her.
Doug raised his eyebrows when she described the holding cell in the police station[G1]. "So they did arrest you," he said curiously.
"They made a mistake!" she snapped. "They thought I was the one who stabbed the guy I was trying to save. I would still be in the hoosegow if a nice old lady hadn't yelled at the Chief of Police and straightened it all out."
"Is that the guy who brought you to the ship?"
"Yeah," Sam said, trying to sound bored.
"One of my girls from Deck Division had the Messenger Watch. She said he was a real hunk. Said he was right out of one of them Italian fashion magazines."
Sam felt herself blush. She sipped her coffee and said nothing.
Doug was staring at her now. "Ah." he said. "I see."
Sam's temper flared. "What?" she demanded. "What do you see, Douglas Jones? What exactly do you think you see?"
"I see something I have been hoping to see for a long, long time," he said grinning. "Sam Logan thinking about something other than work. I think this guy got to you, Sam. I think you like him."
"Luca Danieli is the most irritating, arrogant, conniving, pompous ogre of a man that I have ever met in my life! I do NOT like him! In fact I DIS-like him more than anyone in this world."
"Luca is his name?" Doug asked.
"Yes."
&nb
sp; "And..." Doug pressed.
"And nothing. I made a police report. I'm done with the case. It's over."
Doug watched her in silence. She met his curious stare without flinching, raised her cup to her lips and sipped the sweet, frothy coffee.
Doug reached across the table and picked up her guide to Venice. To Sam's relief, he dropped the subject and began to look through the book. "Have you been to see any of these places yet?" he asked.
Sam shook her head. "I only finished at the police station about an hour ago. We had lunch and then you got here. I bought the book at that vendor stand over there."
Doug's eyes widened when she said "we", but he made no comment. His sandwiches arrived and he didn't say a word while he ate them.
The silence was like a heavy weight between them. She wondered if Doug sensed something she had not yet come to realize about herself. Had Luca gotten to her, like Doug suggested? Did that explain the empty feeling inside her? She had felt that way since the moment he had kissed her hand and walked away.
Sam picked up the guide and unfolded the map from the back cover of the book. "Where is Saint Mark's Square?" she asked breaking the silence and shifting the focus away from herself.
She traced the canals and alleyways with her finger, and found their location. Holding her finger in place she checked some land marks and looked across the square at a majestic building which ran the full length of the other side of the huge piazza. "I think that is the Doge's Palace." she said. "Do you want to go for a tour with me, Doug?"
"Just the two of us?" he asked.
She glared at Doug. "You and me and my ghosts."
"In that case all of us can go," Doug replied as he finished his drink and counted some of his Italian Lire onto the table.
Sam checked her bill and left enough to cover the cappuccino and a generous tip. The two friends crossed the square in the shadow of the clock tower and set off to admire the grandeur of the Doge's palace.