Deep Midnight
Page 19

His British ladies were gone, but the morning had already been well worthwhile. He sang as he drifted along alone, dunking of heading back to the dock and waiting, but singing in hopes of luring some straying tourists.
They all loved, “O sole mio!”
Yet even as he sang, his pleasant tenor booming across the narrow canal he navigated, he noted something bobbing in the water ahead. He narrowed his eyes, still singing, but more absently, and quietly.
He used his pole expertly to slow his vessel.
His singing stopped abruptly mid-note as he narrowed his eyes and stared into the water.
No...
He hunched down and reached into the water, grabbing for the bobbing, ball-shaped object. His fingers wound into something.
Hair.
Even as the thought reached him, he saw the object, full front, just inches before his face.
He let out a hoarse cry of horror, dropping it as if it burned him.
The blood drained from his face. He felt the eggs he’d had for breakfast scrambling and scorching in his stomach.
He retched and plopped down into his boat, first using canal water to rinse his face, then remembering what he’d just found in the water, and retching again.
He breathed deeply and straightened his shoulders.
The ... thing ... was now bobbing in the water again, just a few feet away. He watched it, still breathing deeply.
After a moment, he knew what he had to do.
It was a pleasant, uneventful walk to Tiff Henley’s palazzo.
Jordan crossed several bridges, but the directions she had been given were excellent, and she had no trouble finding the palazzo, a well-kept structure near the Accademia.
The entry was up a short flight of stairs, and Tiff herself answered when Jordan used the massive ring in a brass lion’s mouth to knock.
“You made it!” Tiff said, pleased. She was dressed in faux leopard pants and a cashmere sweater with a fur-trimmed neckline that wasn’t at all synthetic, Jordan was certain. Despite the weather, Tiff was wearing flashy sandals that clicked on the marble of her palazzo’s entry.
“You’ll see,” Tiff said, leading her in, “This is nothing so fine as the contessa’s ancestral home or whatever, but it’s really quite adorable.”
Jordan looked around with interest as Tiff took her coat The foyer was small and cozy; the steps leading upward were narrow and winding, but the banister was really beautiful, marble with a blue tinge, and the steps themselves were covered in a plush, navy blue carpeting that made them seem warm and welcoming.
“This place was built during the Renaissance and it’s still in the same family. The owner is a hoot. He said that they were the nobility of the lira! No titles in the family, but they made a mint importing and exporting.”
“It’s great?I like it much better than the contessa’s,” Jordan assured her.
“It’s?cozier. But then,” Tiff said with humor, “you’d like it better than the contessa’s place if I’d rented a barn. Is there such a thing as a barn in Venice?” Tiff didn’t wait for an answer. “Frankly, I’d stay in a barn just to be here; thankfully, I don’t have to. Come on up, come on up! I ordered in Bellinis or whatever you call them from Harry’s Bar?you have been there, right?”
“Yes.”
Jordan loved the fabled Venetian establishment, once beloved of Hemingway. The prices were high, but the food was excellent. “Jared entertains at Harry’s a great deal,” she said.
“Well, of course, he would, wouldn’t he?” Tiff said. “Actually, he could have told you how to get here? I rented this through your cousin and made all the arrangements for my stay through him. He’s really quite good.”
“Thanks. I rather like him myself.”
“His wife is a sweetie, too. I should have invited them as well.”
“Don’t feel bad. They’re sleeping in.”
“I wanted to get to know you better anyway. Come up, come up, we’re all set up on the patio on the second level.”
Jordan followed Tiff up the stairs.
The landing on the second floor was large, with hallways going off to the left and right while directly in front there was a large expanse of marble flooring that led to columns, and beyond them, a plate glass window with a double doorway leading to a terrace that directly overlooked a charming canal.
“There are heat lamps out here; it will be warm enough,” Tiff assured her, leading the way.
Jordan was barely seated with a famed Venetian Bellini in hand when Tiff leaned on the table across from her. “Okay, so I don’t mean to be rude or crude or anything, but just what exactly is the sad history behind your being so sensitive to things of a frightening nature.”
“I’m not sensitive?”
“Your fiancé was killed.”
Jordan sighed. “Tiff, I’m completely sane.”
“Of course you are!” Tiff sounded almost angry, as if it would be ridiculous for anyone to think anything else. “It’s just that I’m so, so sorry! How terrible. He was a cop, right, killed in the line of duty? Hunting down some terrible murderers?”
“Evidently, you have the story.”
“Well, I have the story through one of the girls at the art shop. And she, I believe, got what she knows through Cindy. Not a long line of gossip, but you do know how things change.”
“You have it basically right.”
“And you’re still mourning this poor fellow? They probably shouldn’t have brought you here. I’m sure they thought Venice! Carnevale! Such fun, that will take her mind off things. And, of course, there are masks worn everywhere and an abundance of handsome young men, only a few of whom don’t speak English. Hm. Maybe the not speaking English would make a man more appealing.” Tiff laughed softly.
“More Bellini?”
“I’m fine, thanks. This is a bit early for me, actually.”
“Oh, these are just sissy drinks. And we’re not driving anywhere! Oh, well, bottoms up, even if I’m drinking on my own.”
Tiff finished her drink and poured another. “So? are you still in mourning, and perhaps, just perhaps, a bit oversensitive?”
“I loved him a great deal.” She paused, eager to change the subject “You’ve been widowed, I’ve heard?”
“Several times,” Tiff said. “As I’m sure you’ve heard.”
“Yes. As to Steven ... I miss him, still. I really loved him. But he’s gone, and I know it. And I like going to parties; I enjoy meeting people?”
“And dancing.”
“And dancing.”
“I saw you last night, with Ragnor. You were beautiful together. I was jealous as all hell. Of course, he is a little young for me, but what the hell? I’ve always married old men, a younger fellow would be such a novelty!”
Jordan lifted her hands. “Go for it then!”
“Oh, but he’s not interested in me. I watched him last night. He was watching you all night.”
“I didn’t even see him when I first arrived.”
“But he was there. Watching you.”
Jordan wasn’t sure whether Tiff’s observation disturbed her...
Or excited her.
She shrugged. “Tiff, you’re most welcome to pursue him with all vigor. He was quite rude to me.”
“Rude?” Tiff said, puzzled.
“Rude. He told me that I should go home, that... I don’t know. That I caused trouble, or stirred trouble
... that I could be putting myself in danger.”
“Danger!” Tiff sounded delighted. “How ... beguiling!”
“I’m not interested in Ragnor,” Jordan said. She hesitated. She was lying. She was interested. Because he angered her.
That much was true ...
But last night...
She felt an uneasy surge of warmth again. Last night, as they’d watched the acrobatic dancers, she’d felt... a stirring. That term was an understatement She’d felt as hot as blue Sterno flame, dying to touch and be touched, as she hadn’t felt since ...
“Tiff, you must know what it’s like when you lose someone: you learn to live with it and go on, but you never really get over the sudden loss?”
“I never had a sudden loss,” Tiff said, helping herself to smoked fish. “In feet, I’m afraid, my last loss took for longer than I planned. But that, of course, makes me quite proud. I did marry an old fellow for his money?don’t pass that honesty around to the rest of his heirs!?but the doctors had only given him six months to live. Thanks to me, he was a happy old cuss for almost a year and a half.”
“That is?quite commendable, ”Jordan said, forced to smile.
“Yeah, I thought so,” Tiff said proudly. “But now ... let’s get back to Ragnor. You know what I think?” Jordan lifted her shoulders and arched her brows, waiting. She knew that Tiff needed no encouragement to go on.
“I think he’s incognito here, that he’s in some kind of hiding,” Tiff said.
“In hiding? He walks around in the open.”
“But no one really knows anything about him. He only showed up in Venice a while ago, although apparently, he’s got lots of business dealings with some of the American businessmen who’ve been putting money into ”restore Venice“ funds and the like. He is popular with all the right people?except for the contessa, of course. I think he may be underworld.”
“I don’t think he’s even Italian,” Jordan said.
“No, no ... but there are crime families all over Europe. Maybe he got into something horrible as a youth, maybe he is a criminal?”
“Maybe we should both stay away from him, ”Jordan said.
“Good Lord, no! That makes him all the more fascinating. Along with the feet that he seems really and totally repelled by the contessa!”
“That may be his one really admirable aspect,” Jordan said dryly.
Tiff shrugged. “Well, no, I have to admit that I do love the nobility thing. I’m dying to get to know her better as well. Don’t worry?I’ll never invite you at the same time. Actually, I wish she’d invite me back to her palazzo.”