He felt Vincenzo take his hand and he slung his other arm around Ghost’s slim shoulders, who in turn had her arm around Mister Fox’s waist. Alberto was matching them stride for stride as the song built in intensity. When Casimir caught sight of his secretary hovering at the assigned spot, he did a quick do-si-do maneuver, and his secretary moved on with the group while Casimir ducked into a recessed corridor behind Monsignor Nuur. In just under two minutes, they were locked together on a motorcycle plunging through the dark sewer tunnels, then out of the Vatican via an alley and racing through the sleepy streets of Rome.
“Now can you tell me where you’re headed?” Nuur asked.
“I’m going to Castine, Maine.”
EPILOGUE
Hiero sat at his desk, rigid with shock and rage. The pope had ripped the veil of secrecy from the Catholic Church, and then pulled the ripcord on his reign. Where was Negrali to galvanize the College of Cardinals? They needed to refute the pope’s sanity and restore the status quo by applying pressure on the politicians in each of their pockets.
He’d been in his office all night but had yet to hear from a single one of his operatives. Still no word from France, and now the team he’d sent to Venice had gone silent. Since four o’clock this morning, he’d been dodging calls from a Detective Lampani in Venice.
Without a word to his staff, he walked out of the Ecclesia Dei’s offices. While he was trying to get into his car, he heard a voice behind him. “Hierotymis Karno, you are under arrest for the murder of Doctor Gugliemoni …”
Giselle was on top of the world as she drove her grandfather’s big truck across the border into France. Yvania and Markus were in the mood to celebrate, and Yvania was clutching her satchel containing the manuscript of her and Juliette’s cookbook and a couple of bottles of Gina’s shrubs. Veronique was waiting for them at the château, and her friends would be back from Venice tonight.
She knew Yvania would love Gernelle, and even when Ivar was working in Venice, she’d have Veronique as a new friend. They had promises from Juliette that she, Ivar, Vincenzo, Leo, and probably Gina would come for a vacation early this summer when the Verdu Mer project didn’t need her and Ivar there constantly. When Verdu Mer was complete, Ivar would come to live on the estate. Daniel had spoken to Juliette and made plans to come, too. From the look in his eyes when he got off the phone, Giselle could guess at the next chapter for those old friends.
Her next sculpture was dancing in her head and she was itching to donate it to the monks. Instead of the way she’d seen the men locked together in her original vision, she would sculpt Vincenzo and Leonardo in each other’s arms and she would call it, “Mankind”.
Traffic was light as people all over the country were sitting in churches wondering what to do, and Giselle took full advantage of the open roads.
“Do you have a nice kitchen there at your castle?” Yvania asked them.
“It’s a château,” she and Markus answered at the same time.
Sleep-deprived, Luigi returned to headquarters while the entire police force—except for Lydia, who was sitting in jail with the Amendolas—was out at multiple crime scenes, not for the first time where the Veronas and Scortinis were involved. He had just plugged his phone into an outlet and pulled the bag of espresso chocolates out of his jacket pocket when he heard Chief Inspector Laszlo’s voice bellow, “Lampani! Are you here?”
Luigi went into the sweatbox and straight to the window.
“Looks like you took quite a punch,” Laszlo said. “Where’d that happen?”
“At Raphielli’s Poseidon Ball. It was a Carnevale ball to end all balls.”
“Brawling agrees with you. I haven’t seen you so alive since…ever.”
“Nah, a couple of angels gave me the kiss of life.”
“Oh? Good for you, cuz from where I’m sitting, we’ve got an angel of death making the rounds again. La Serenissma’s greatest palazzos are littered with crime scenes again.”
“It’s all over. The Scortini case is solved. I finally know the who’s and why’s. And my soon-to-be-foster-maybe-one-day-adopted-daughter Benedetta found these!” He pulled the bag of espresso-filled dark chocolates out of his pocket, unwrapped one, and popped it in his mouth.
“Pocket Coffee?”
“No, but they’ll do.”
“So, you’re gonna bring Benedetta out of hiding?”
“She’s got a new spokesperson who is going to put out a statement that she ran away from an abusive situation and is asking the court to transfer guardianship to Gladys and me.”
“I wish her luck,” he said. “So, we’re done with this crime spree?”
“Sì. It was a war between the Catholic Church and a Christian sect called the Alithinían Church.”
“Never heard of them.”
“That’s because the Catholics have been exterminating them since the first century.”
“Why?”
“The Alithinían Church, or in Greek, the True Church, was founded by the Apostle Paul’s grandson, guy by the name of Marcion of Sinope, a wealthy boating merchant who sailed the Mediterranean gathering up all of Paul’s letters. Paul was the one who spread Christianity—supposedly directed by God—because the disciples weren’t getting the job done.”
“So?”
“Peter was the first pope of the Catholic Church and he found Paul threatening.”
“This fight goes back that far?”
“Yep. Apparently, Jesus tapped a Verona to help Peter, like a sidekick to Peter’s superhero, and that relationship continued to present day with Leopold and Vincenzo.”
“No shit? Gimme one of those.” The big man pointed at the espresso chocolates. “How does Doctor Gugliemoni fit in? He was my wife’s OB-GYN! He delivered my kids!”
“He was Alithinían, and according to Juliette Verona was systematically murdering her children in her womb to try to stamp out the Verona bloodline. We can only guess that the Alithiníans have been doing this surreptitiously for some time.”
“And you like the head of Vatican Security for Doctor Gugliemoni’s murder?”
“Sì, Doctor G was killed by the head of the Vatican’s secret service Ecclesia Dei, a guy named Hierotymis Karno.”
“How did that amber-colored rope fit in?”
“The Alithiníans revere water as holy, and apparently Peter’s men killed Marcion of Sinope by drowning him underwater exactly as Salvio killed Count Gabrieli Verona, with an amber-colored rope around his left ankle.”
“The French police have more of that same rope in the kill-bags found with the dead hit men at Giselle Verona’s château in Gernelle,” Laszlo said as he savored his candy.
“Yep, Salvio was trying to make a point. If he’d succeeded in killing Vincenzo last fall, then when he’d killed Gabrieli, he’d have killed off the Verona line.”
“Did Giselle lose her baby?”
“No, but Juliette told me in confidence this morning that it isn’t Vincenzo’s.”
“So now it’s over.”
“Si. It’s over, and after I type up my report, I’m typing up my resignation letter. Gladys, Benny, and I are moving to Sorrento.”
“What’re you gonna do down there?”
“For a while, relax with my family and go snorkeling with Benny in Praiano.”
“Retiring to become a father…and soon a grandfather…you’ll extend your life by about fifty years. But I hate to lose you.”
“Hey, I need to enjoy life before I have an actual aneurysm. And after a case like this one, it’s time to drop the mic and walk off stage.”
“Go put an ice pack on your face and then gimme my report.”
Luigi swiped his precious bag of candy off Laszlo’s desk and walked back to his desk feeling on top of the world.
Raphielli was exhausted, and her third wind of energy had dissipated. She’d had enough of crime scenes around her home. Benny had solved the puzzle of who killed Negrali. Luigi had let her see the head of the bald man in the
boat, a man she called Matt. He’d been the leader of the Venetian branch of the Alithinían Church.
The pope had quit, and the news was saying that Ecclesia Dei had killed Doctor G, but she knew that wasn’t true. Her tipsy French friends had just dragged themselves back to the palazzo and gone to bed.
When Raphielli got to her room, she found the massive shades had been drawn and it looked like night. Benny was fast asleep in one corner of the vast bed, while Paloma was working at the desk in the office part of the suite. She looked up with bleary eyes as she set her phone down.
“You’re not working, are you?” Raphielli asked as she staggered toward the bed.
“I just had to take that call,” Paloma said. “Your new nanny just accepted the job.”
“Great. What’s her name again?” Raphielli asked around a yawn.
Paloma flopped into bed next to her and drew the covers up to her chin. “Miriam.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Yes, it’s true, St. Peter, while buried inside The Vatican, his throne is in The Cathedral of Castello in a quiet neighborhood in Venice.
Yes, it’s true, Santa Maria dei Miracoli, Venice had all of its marble cladding removed and desalinated at the cost of approximately 4 million Euros.
Yes, it’s true, there is a special statue at the Abbaye d’Orval just across the border from France in Belgium inside the Ardennes Forest—make your own decision whether it’s Leonardo and Vincenzo.
Yes, it’s true, Passero’s Esspresso is the finest in the world.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Anna Erikssön Bendewald is the author of Meet Me At Père Lachaise, Stealing Venice, and Storming Venice.
She is married to Mason, and they live in Los Angeles and New York with their daughters Jem and Julia.
Anna is a bookworm, a foodie, and a passionate champion for animal issues.
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