Deep Midnight
Page 7

Then he made a sudden realization, and he was afraid.
His employer was wonderful. But she wasn’t to be crossed.
In the middle of his work, filling and weighting the barrels he would sink to the bottom of the Adriatic Sea, he was suddenly very aware of a cold breeze.
He dumped all the barrels he had filled, frantically looking around, counting, piecing together, counting again.
Ice filled him, colder than the sea.
He was missing a piece of cargo.
CHAPTER 2
Nothing.
Still standing in front of the restaurant, Jordan turned around slowly once again, puzzling over the strange sounds of whispering and the impression of winged shadows that had teased her senses. Scanning the street around her, she hoped for a moment to see if the outgoing and brassy Tiff had perhaps followed her route, and was watching her, ready to approach her again.
But as she looked around, there was no one in the busy street who appeared to be the least interested in her. Groups of people laughed and joked together. She heard bits of different languages?English, Italian, German, French?but she didn’t feel even the faintest hint of a cold breeze touching her nape or hissing in her ear.
Then, suddenly, she heard her name called.
“Jordan! Jordan!” She spun in the opposite direction as her name was repeated in a loud and friendly summons. Lynn Mallory, an American artist working at the Venetian shop where she had acquired her costume the evening before, was hailing her from the door of the shop. Jordan hadn’t realized that she had walked quite so far, that she was right across from the Arte della Anna Maria, named for the impressive Venetian woman who had formed the co-op store for rising and talented young entrepreneurs.
“Lynn!” she called back, starting over, then ducking back as the same Napoleon and his courtiers came rollicking along. Once again, Napoleon stopped, bowing low to her. “Oh, wait, wait! Please, wait!” someone pleaded. A camera flashed. Napoleon smiled regally, then swept his arm again. Jordan hurried by, and he moved on with appropriate hauteur and arrogance.
“Jordan!” Lynn said, greeting her typically with a kiss on both cheeks. Her eyes were merry and bright.
“Where is your costume? In true style, you know, you should dress even to wander through the streets.”
“I’m afraid I was in a far more casual mood this morning,” Jordan said lightly. Lynn was about Jordan’s age with close cropped dark hair and smoky gray eyes. Jordan, speaking such poor Italian, had found a bond with the American girl the moment she stepped into the shop for the first time two days ago. Lynn’s mother was an Italian-American who had taught her daughter her native language as a child; as an adult, Lynn admitted, she simply loved all things Italian. A semester of college in Florence had convinced her that she wanted to spend a few years, at the least, living in Italy. Anna Maria’s co-op had been the perfect place for her to sell her creations?wooden marionettes dressed in detailed and exquisite costumes.
“Ah,” Lynn murmured, eyes clouded with concern as she watched Jordan.
Jordan grimaced. “So you heard?”
“Some of our customers attended the ball.” Lynn pulled a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of her jacket, shook one out, lit up, inhaled deeply, and exhaled a long plume of smoke. “It’s been busy ... my first cigarette in hours.” She grimaced. “We still smoke everywhere, here in Italy, not like the States. But you can’t light up in the shop, not with so many people and things, costumes, fabric, paint, and art! We could burn a hole in a costume, you know? Or go up like a tinderbox.” Lynn was speaking casually, but she studied Jordan all the while. “You’re okay now?”
“I’m fine. But the contessa’s concept of fun is macabre. It was very real,” Jordan said. She realized she sounded defensive.
“Yes, well, the contessa would have entertainment that included the best special effects.” Lynn brightened suddenly. “Well, you needn’t fear when you attend our ball.” She grinned, seeing the confusion in Jordan’s eyes. “Tonight, the artist’s ball?naturally, most of us will be in attendance. Friday night is Anna Maria’s Venetian Waltz. We have a palazzo as well, you know. Rented for the occasion, not owned by any of us, unfortunately. But we won’t scare you half to death. We entertain with music, tarot card readers, jesters ... a pleasure palace, but no monsters.”
“Well, I assume that Jared has had tickets for us from the beginning, but are you sure you want me to come?” Jordan asked.
Lynn laughed. “Of course. Yes, Jared has had tickets for months. Surely he told you that the Friday ball is ours.”
“I just knew there was a round of parties,” Jordan said. “I’m glad, delighted, that one of them is yours.
I’m afraid that Jared only explained the contessa’s party, and it seems the contessa is very important to his business.”
“Ah, so Jared felt that hers was the most important party.”
“I didn’t mean to say that?”
Lynn shrugged philosophically. “The contessa .. . is nobility. She is rich. Her party is definitely for the truly elite?invitation only. It’s a big deal to be invited. Come to think of it, none of us at the shop are ever invited to her events. We must be poor peasants in her eyes.”
“I wish I’d been a peasant in her eyes. Everywhere I’ve been today, people stare at me. I’m the idiot American who panicked at a party and brought in the police.” Lynn’s smile deepened. “Well, I’m afraid the story has traveled, but... you know, there are people who don’t like her as well. Quite frankly, she’s a snot. She breezes down the street as if she’s got a stick up her ass.”
“Lynn!”
Anna Maria, tall, slim, a beautiful woman in her early forties, had emerged from the shop just as Lynn spoke. A native Venetian, she had a striking bone structure, long brown hair touched with natural gold highlights, and a sense of energy and purpose. Her English was nearly perfect; her accent was charming.
Lynn choked, having been inhaling her cigarette when Anna spoke. Anna Maria had her hands on her hips, but a glitter in her eyes belied the stern way in which she had spoken.
“Sorry, the contessa is charming, just charming.”
“Lynn! Such words you are using. It is sour grapes; I believe that is the saying,” Anna Maria chastised.
“We are not invited, so the contessa is a snob. Forgive us, Jordan.” Jordan laughed. “Actually, don’t tell Jared I said so, but I think Lynn’s description is rather apt.”
“The contessa is beautiful. And she has done a great deal for Venice.”
“Um, and she’s a snot? you’ve done a lot for Venice and she ignores you!” Lynn defended.
“Lynn, Jordan is a visitor; we mustn’t air muddy laundry?”
“Dirty laundry,” Lynn corrected.
“Dirty laundry,” Anna Maria agreed, shaking her head. “Lynn, do I make fun of your Italian?”
“Upon occasion, yes!” Lynn said.
“Jordan, you must not listen to us. Lynn, give me one of your American cigarettes.” Anna Maria took a cigarette and lit up, exhaling with a little sigh of pleasure.
“The way I’m feeling this morning, Anna Maria, I hate to admit it, but I’m delighted to hear something bad about the contessa,” Jordan said. “If it was all a charade, it was a horrible thing to plan to do to people.”
“If it was a charade?” Lynn asked softly.
Jordan shrugged. “Everyone keeps telling me so. The police were angry, my cousin is still angry, and the contessa ...” She paused, staring at Lynn ruefully. “Well, she acted as if she had a stick up her butt!”
“The streets sometimes have ears,” Anna Maria murmured. “Yet, I’m so sorry. I adore my city. And Carnevale. You should have all good impressions of the city and the gaiety.”
“I love Venice,” Jordan said quickly. “The contessa’s party did not change that.”
“But, poor dear!” Anna Maria said. “The rumor is that you were absolutely terrified. Again, I’m so sorry to hear that, but...” Her voice trailed off, and then she laughed and spoke very softly. “I like to imagine the contessa running through the streets in the middle of the night to the police station. That’s what she gets for her great dramas, always promising something more spectacular than anyone else can offer. Her party might be more exclusive, but you’re right. Such entertainment is sick. I promise you, the artist’s ball tonight is wonderful, but our party will be the most fun. So. What are you wearing?”
“Being a visitor and a novice at Carnevale, I’ve only the one outfit?”
“Ah, that will not be enough. Come in, come in, we’ll find more costuming in petite!” Anna Maria dropped her cigarette and stepped on it. “Now ... we’ll go in and find something fun for the artist’s ball tonight and our party on Friday.”
“It’s really not necessary?”
“Ah, but it is!” Anna Maria corrected. “It is Venice, and it is Carnevale, and you must enjoy the splendor of it all.” She glanced sternly at Lynn once again. “In a way that is not snobby, snotty, or stick up the ass-y in any way at all.”
“No, look, it’s all right, the store is crowded, you’re so busy?”
“Never too busy,” Anna Maria said. “Andiamo. We go in to the costume section. Many things are already rented, but ... we never run out of masquerades in Venice, eh, Lynn?”
“Never,” Lynn agreed.
“And if something does not quite fit, Lynn is an extraordinary seamstress.” Lynn groaned. “No rest for the weary!”
“Or the naughty,” Anna Maria said sternly.
“I’m sure I can make my own adjustments?”Jordan offered.
“No, no,” Anna Maria protested. “Lynn wishes to outdo the contessa, even down to your costume. We shall all three see that it is so.” She indicated the door. “Come along, and we’ll get busy.” Jordan hesitated, thinking that perhaps she should return to the hotel, but it felt good to be with people who sympathized without thinking her totally insane. It felt good to be here, and it would be fun to wear a new costume.