Westerham Witches and a Venetian Vendetta

by Dionne Lister

  Will looked at it. “So the office chair got a workout too?”

  “Looks like. It’s probably not safe to touch anything in here.” I pulled an “ew” face. “I’m thinking we check the other rooms for their presence before that time. See if they were here by themselves earlier or later.”

  “Good idea.”

  I held my phone up one last time and asked for nine thirty to ten. She was now resting her bottom on the windowsill smoking a cigarette. He was standing there staring at her. Looked like things were winding down. Finally, ten to ten thirty, they were gone. Thank God. Now it was time to go room to room and see what else was happening here that night.

  In the lunchroom, I found where they’d been from seven thirty to eight thirty; they were in here eating dinner, just the two of them, a candle on the table. How romantic. I clicked off a shot. “So, the only time we can’t account for is from seven to seven thirty, when I suppose she was showering and getting ready for the date because she’s not wearing her work clothes here.” Unless work clothes were a tight-fitting red-sequinned dress that finished at the top of her thighs and red stilettos.

  “And after ten, we have nothing on them. The crime happened, well became obvious at eleven twenty. So, we have an hour and twenty minutes unaccounted for. As complicated as that spell is, I’m thinking that’s enough time to create that kind of masterpiece.”

  “I guess we have to see if Lorenzo was in his apartment after ten.”

  “Which will have to wait until tomorrow.”

  I threw my head back and closed my eyes. And where was Angelica? We’d made some discoveries, but it wasn’t enough. Will’s arms slid around me, and he pulled me to his chest. “It’ll be okay, Lily.”

  I didn’t want to be a naysayer, but…. “It might not be.”

  He kissed the top of my head. “I know, but we have to have faith that we’ll figure this out before whoever did this kills her.”

  “If it’s not those two—and it still could be, but most of their night was accounted for—who would it be? And where does that other dead woman come into it?”

  Will swore. “Bloody Agent Tondato. He’s making this as difficult as possible. He told me there is no connection to anyone that he can find with that woman and our suspects. I have to trust he’s telling the truth, but for all I know, he’s made no enquiries.”

  “But why would he do that?”

  “This afternoon, I learnt that they’re working on another huge case with the Rome office. It’s a dangerous case against the mafia, and they’re short-staffed. The horrible truth is that this crime and Angelica’s predicament are being shoved to the side.”

  I looked up at him. “So they’re not usually this bad?”

  “No. I don’t think so, which is both a relief and not a relief. I just wish they would let us take over. At least then I’d have full access to any files they’ve started and permission to look into more personal things about our victims.” He gave me a quick kiss on the mouth. “Let’s go. We have something, which is better than nothing, and we’ll start fresh tomorrow morning. I’ll call Tondato tomorrow, see if I can wrangle more permissions, and we’ll sneak into Lorenzo’s apartment. It could be the breakthrough we need.”

  “Okay. At least we have a plan, but I don’t know how much sleeping I’ll be doing tonight.” Not knowing where Angelica was or what condition she was in, well, it wasn’t pleasant. If I did manage to fall asleep tonight, I’d probably have nightmares. Oh, the joy.

  We locked up and left, Will reinstating the security cameras and alarm. He set the spell when we were inside but made it so it didn’t come into effect for sixty seconds. After the front door was locked, I ran to the front gate and out. He strolled, Mr Nerves of Steel. Crazy man.

  As the motor droned and we neared Saint Mark’s Square, I took in the lights shining from so many windows. Was Angelica in one of those houses? Was she even still in Venice? Bloody hell. We could look forever and never find her. Dealing with witches was scary times one hundred. Damn it! Think, Lily.

  I had to raise my voice to be heard above the outboard. “Maybe we should just go and see Lorenzo now and insist on going into his apartment.”

  “We can’t just barge in. Besides, Tondato and his guys checked it out before and found nothing. If we’re going to have another crack at this, it has to be under the radar.”

  “Yes, but they don’t have my skills.”

  “I know that, Lily, but I don’t want a call from head office telling us to cease and desist. You know how much Chad hates Angelica. He might threaten firing us again if we keep looking for her.”

  I sneered. “That’s insane. God, I hate that witch.” I let out a low scream of frustration.

  Will’s eyes held understanding. “I know, Lily. I know.”

  It didn’t take much longer, and Will was tying up the boat where we’d found it, and we were climbing out. He grabbed my hand, and we walked back to the hotel holding hands. Imagine taking a walk hand in hand with the man of your dreams through quiet Venetian streets but the romanticism being ruined by the fact that someone you loved was missing, possibly dead. Despair caught in my throat, and I swallowed my tears. I squeezed Will’s hand. “I love you.”

  He smiled. “I love you too.”

  We were both alert as we neared the hotel, and I opened myself to magic, just in case. My return to sender was up, and my other sight told me Will’s was too. My gaze pinged from window to window—both the hotel’s and nearby buildings’. Some lights were still on, and music and laughter came from a restaurant on the other side of the square.

  It wasn’t as late as when Angelica had come home—there’d been no one around then.

  We went into the hotel without incident, which I was calling a win. The reception desk was closed for the night, but there was music filtering down the hallway from the bar area.

  I shrugged. I was tired because of the stress of the last couple of days, but after our mission, nervous energy had me wide awake. “Why don’t we see if anyone’s in the bar?” By anyone, I meant our friends. There was probably someone in there, but whether or not they wanted to have a drink with us was another matter.

  “Not really. Sorry. I want to go and call James, update him on what we’re up to. I might get him to look up some stuff on the system. If it ends up getting back to Chad, then so be it. We need to join some dots before tomorrow if we can.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I have a bad feeling about this.” His forehead wrinkles were as deep as ever as he stared at me.

  I put my arms around him. “I know. I don’t like this either. And the longer this takes….” I didn’t need to finish what I was saying.

  “It’s that and the fact that we’re missing something.” He made a bubble of silence. “Our two most-likely suspects… there’s reasonable doubt as to whether it was them. And if not, we are so far from the truth of all this as we can be. I’ve never worked on a case we couldn’t solve, but this one’s getting away from us. And so much is at stake.”

  I tilted my face up, and he kissed me. If only I had the answers to help and make everything better. But I didn’t. Worst feeling ever. “Okay, well, you go upstairs. If anyone’s down here, I’ll be half an hour. Is that all right?”

  He gave me a small smile. “Of course it is. I’ll be waiting for you.” He waggled his brows, and I chuckled. He gave me a last quick kiss, then turned and started up the stairs. I made my way to the bar hoping Liv or Imani were enjoying a beverage.

  There were three groups scattered around—one of four people, one couple, and a large group of ten. But none of them were my friends. I sighed. I wasn’t desperate enough to have a drink by myself. Maybe I should text Liv or Imani and ask them to come join me.

  I slid my phone out of my pocket, but before I could text anyone, a voice came from behind me. “Hello, Lily.”

  I spun around. Isabella stood there, dark circles under her eyes but a smile on her face. A few errant hairs stuck out from her plait. I smiled.
“Are you going to have a drink?”

  “I don’t know. I was thinking maybe one vino.” She shook her head. “But I’m tired. Would you like to have a quiet drink with me in the restaurant? Everyone has gone home for the night, so it will just be us.”

  I took one look around the bar and decided it was noisy anyway, and who wanted to yell over the noise to be heard. “Okay. That sounds lovely.”

  She smiled. “Maybe you try one of my desserts. Tiramisu. I made fresh this afternoon.”

  “Oh, that sounds lovely. Thank you! But I must pay. This is your business.”

  She threw her hands in the air. “No! This is my treat. You can help by recommending our ’otel to your friends.”

  “Okay, then. It’s a deal.”

  I followed her into the hallway and then into the dining room. The muffled quiet was rather soothing. The tables were already set for tomorrow’s breakfast, the buffet table clear and awaiting food. Isabella motioned me to a table near the kitchen. Her magic tickled my scalp, and a cake appeared on the table, as did two glasses of a dark red liquid. I sat and lifted a glass to my nose. “Is this a sweet wine?”

  “Sì. From Umbria.”

  I wasn’t much of a wine drinker. I’d have a glass sometimes, but I was just as happy to have a cocktail…. Okay, I would much rather have a cocktail, but dessert wine was the best of all the wines. “That cake looks delicious! You’re an incredible cook.”

  She pulled her chair out and stood in front of it, placing her hands on the table to help lower herself into the chair. I would’ve offered to help, but I figured she wanted to do it herself, and if she needed it, she would’ve asked. I didn’t want to offend her or suggest she couldn’t do things for herself. She magicked a knife into her hand and cut the cake.

  Just as she cut two slices, Francesco walked in through the main doors. “Nonna!” He said something else in Italian, but nonna was the only word I understood. It meant grandmother. They were related? I did my best impression of a poker face, which was more jump the other way than stay neutral. I smiled and pretended the fact that he must be Mr and Mrs Dal Lago’s son didn’t shock me. He could be a wealth of information if I did this right.

  He came to the table and bent to kiss her cheek. She squeezed his cheek and smiled, love clear in her eyes. She looked at me. “This is one of our guests, Lily. Lily, this is my grandson, Francesco.”

  He gave me a shy smile. “Ciao.”

  I returned it, although mine wasn’t shy. “Ciao. Please, sit with us and have some cake. Your grandmother is a wonderful cook.” Isabella gave me a grateful look, although what else would I do? He’s her family, and she’s sharing free food with me. The least I could do is let her grandson have some. Plus, I wanted information. Maybe this would provide the break we needed… a small clue that would give us a direction.

  “Thank you.” He walked around his grandmother’s chair and sat. “Are you and your friends enjoying your stay?”

  Did he get the memo that Angelica was missing? Or did he know something, and he was as good at acting as I was? Whatever it was, it gave me a segue into what I wanted to talk about. “Sort of. The hotel is beautiful, and I love Venice, but my friend is missing—Angelica.”

  I studied his face, hoping it would give something away. He was around here all the time. Maybe he’d seen something? Or maybe his mother confided in him, if it had been her in the first place. His brow wrinkled, and he pressed his lips together. That told me nothing.

  Isabella magicked cake onto our plates. “Mangia, mangia.”

  I didn’t know what she said, but context had me guessing. “Eat?”

  “Yes. Very good, Lily. Eat, please.”

  The first mouthful of cake had me stifling a groan of pleasure. This was the best tiramisu I’d ever had. So good. “This is the best, Isabella. Any chance I can come visit in the future and pick up a cake?”

  Francesco looked at me. “You mean a piece of cake?”

  I grinned. “No, a whole cake.”

  Isabella chuckled. “Grazie. I would love to cook for you again. You are welcome any time.”

  As we ate, Francesco stole glances at me, his face serious, almost to the point where I wasn’t sure if he was also angry. What had I done? Wanting a whole cake wasn’t offensive over here, was it? Maybe he was just upset because his father had been killed. Of course he was. How was I so dumb yet I managed to get to the ripe old age of twenty-five? I’d obviously reminded him that his dad was missing, and his mum was being investigated.

  I gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry about your dad.”

  His eyes watered, and he blinked. Before he could answer, Isabella interrupted. “It is very sad, no? My daughter… she is very upset, and my grandson…. It’s ’orrible.” Francesco stared at his plate, briefly narrowing his eyes and gritting his teeth. What was that all about? Isabella patted his hand, and he snatched it away. She said something in Italian to him, then turned to me. “We just want to find who did it. It was not my daughter. She would never do anything like that. She loved him.” Francesco shook his head ever so slightly, and he pressed his lips together as if he wanted to say something.

  There was no way I was going to bring up her infidelities, but maybe her son knew, which was why he was holding back right now. Was it something everyone in the family ignored? Maybe Francesco was sick of it and her behaviour. If he knew it hurt his father, no wonder he was angry. Add to that his grandmother defending Mrs Dal Lago, and, well…. I almost choked on my cake, and I coughed.

  Isabella slapped my back a couple of times. She was surprisingly strong for an old lady. “Are you all right?”

  I nodded and took a sip of wine to wash the cake down. “I think so. It just went down the wrong way. I’m so clumsy, even when I’m eating.”

  She stared into my eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  I smiled. “Yes. Definitely.” Except that I think your grandson killed his father. But why did I think that? He wasn’t the one doing things wrong. Maybe he hated that his father didn’t stand up to his wife or leave her? I mean, if you were going to kill someone, why wouldn’t it be her? Or maybe Francesco didn’t kill him. Maybe he knew his mum did and was angry that she’d done it? If I were any more confused, I’d be having head spins. Maybe Isabella had forbidden him to say anything? Were they all accessories?

  The only way to find out was to keep pushing. Guilt washed through me, and I hated myself, but I’d do anything to find Angelica. Upsetting grieving people was not on my list of things I wanted to achieve, but sometimes we had to do what we hated to get results. Life could be so unfair.

  I took a deep breath and looked across the table at Francesco. But before I could say anything, he spoke. “Are you one of those agents?”

  “No. I just help them sometimes.”

  “Your friend who went missing, she’s one?”

  Time to go fishing. “Yes. We think whoever killed your father has taken her.”

  Isabella shifted in her seat and glanced quickly at her nephew. He stared at my plate. Was he feeling too guilty to look in my eyes? My leg bounced under the table. He finally looked back up at me. “Do you have any idea who it could be?”

  I wasn’t going to say anything about Lorenzo—let them think Mrs Dal Lago was the only one left on our radar. “Just your mother. I’m sorry.” My heart raced—lying was awful, but I was about to tell a biggie. I needed some kind of reaction… admission… if there was any to give. “I hear they have some new evidence and might be close to making an arrest. I’m so sorry.”

  His eyes widened, and he turned to his grandmother. She tilted her head to the side and put both hands on one of his. “Bello.” Whatever she said next was all in Italian, and I couldn’t understand. I subtly took my phone out of my pocket and put it on my lap, drew on my magic, and asked my phone to record. Isabella jerked her head towards me. “Why you use magic?”

  “I spilled some wine on my top.” I gave her a nervous smile. Crap. The last thing
I wanted to do was upset her when so much was going on. What I’d just said wasn’t really meant for her, but when else was I going to get an opportunity to speak to him?

  Francesco looked at me. “She didn’t do it. I know she didn’t.” He lifted his chin and gave his grandmother a “don’t stop me” look. My heart raced. Was he about to confess? She grabbed his forearm, but he shook her off and swung his gaze back to me. Resignation shone from his eyes. I leaned forward. Please be the breakthrough we’re waiting for.

  Isabella’s magic tingled my scalp. Was she going to stop him from talking?

  Out of the corner of my eye, a dark shape flashed towards me. Before I had a chance to look, something smashed into the side of my head and pain engulfed me. As my head snapped to the right, the last thought before I lost consciousness was that I wasn’t going to hear what he had to say.

  Damn.

  Chapter 9

  Reluctant awareness. Throbbing head. Nausea, a building eruption swelling through my stomach, my throat. I opened my eyes to pitch-black, sat up slightly, and threw up. And then, because my hands were stuck together, I overbalanced and fell off what must be a bed. The distance to the floor was short but painful. “Oomph.” I’d landed on my forearms and front.

  Oh, God, what the hell was going on, and where was I?

  I tried to pull my arms apart. Not happening. I brought my hands to my face and felt around with my lips. Rope tied my wrists together. I tried to move my feet apart, but they were tied together as well. And just to add to the pain lancing through my head, I’d landed in my own vomit. Had I died and gone to hell? I tentatively felt the left side of my head. An ostrich egg and roughness matting my hair—likely dried blood. No wonder I felt like my head had been smashed in… because it had. Lucky me.

  I breathed in and gagged at the vomit odour. Ew. I edged backwards to escape the worst of the smell. The hard floor was cold but easy to slide on. It was probably terrazzo. Once I was a foot from where I started, I rolled over onto my back and shut my eyes. Where had I been before this? How had I gotten here? Who had hit me, and what had they hit me with?