Fit for a Queen

by Nicole Burnham

  “And she is no longer your mother’s assistant, so no longer in a formal role. That likely makes their relationship easier.”

  Federico lifted a dark brow. “No doubt. Aunt Helena still makes appearances and serves on a few charitable boards here in San Rimini, particularly those that my mother supported, but she does so on her own rather than as a representative of the royal family. The press often describes her as royalty, but she takes pains to state that she is a private citizen.”

  “In your mind, she is not a suspect.”

  “No,” Federico said, his tone certain. “Her behavior today is very much in keeping with her personality.”

  “I appreciate the fuller picture.” Federico might not suspect his aunt, but unless and until a thief was caught, she remained on Royce’s mental list of possibilities.

  Federico took a sip of his water, then adjusted his position in the chair. ”You mentioned a second unusual occurrence?”

  “The Roscha sisters entered the residence yesterday afternoon. I went to your father’s bathroom to fill a bucket, and when I returned, they were standing with their backs to me, looking at the area near the vestibule where I’d been stripping paper.”

  That drew a concerned look from the prince. “My father will hear about that from Miroslav, then. Few people have a code to the residence. If anyone other than family, you, or Ms. D’Ambrosio uses one, he knows to report it.” Federico leaned forward, his hand hovering over the bowl of chocolate-covered peanuts at the edge of Royce’s desk.

  “They’re a few days old, but you’re welcome to them.”

  “I imagine I’ll survive,” he said, snagging a few. “The pizza festival involved tasting the children’s samples rather than sitting down to a meal. What did Olena and Tetyana want?”

  “They claimed they’d come to check the floors and ensure I wasn’t dripping water during the wallpaper removal. That they had concerns about the hardwood.”

  “As with my aunt’s behavior, this is not unusual. The Roscha sisters consider the condition of my father’s rooms a point of pride. However, what is unusual is that they went against a direct order not to enter the residence. How long were they alone?”

  “Two to three minutes at most.”

  He gave the prince a rundown of the women’s visit, then told him about Tetyana’s second entry while he was, once again, in the king’s restroom.

  “The timing concerns me,” Royce said. “Daniela left for the pharmacy about ten or fifteen minutes before I went to refill the bucket. There’s a pharmacy located a block from the palace, on the route she took earlier that afternoon to buy lunch, so I imagine it’s the one she chose. She was sitting at the desk in the queen’s suite when I returned to the great room with the bucket, but I don’t know whether Tetyana arrived before or after Daniela. I suspect Tetyana arrived first, given the distance to the pharmacy, though Daniela claimed not to have seen Tetyana when she entered.”

  “You asked?”

  “Discreetly. Daniela also told me that when she returned from the pharmacy, everything was exactly as she’d left it.”

  “Yet you remain uncomfortable.”

  “If Tetyana arrived before Daniela, it’s possible she could have accessed the queen’s suite, though she wouldn’t have had much time. She’d have guessed I was refilling the bucket and wouldn’t be long.”

  Federico didn’t bother to hide his skepticism. “It’d be hard for Daniela to walk through the great room without noticing another person in there.”

  “Tetyana was crawling on the floor near the sofa. She claimed she’d lost a button while inspecting the floors with her sister and had come back to look for it. She did find a button—or claimed she did—and showed it to me before leaving, but I didn’t exactly inspect her uniform to see that one was missing.”

  Royce left it for Federico to connect the dots. If Tetyana was sneaky enough to lie about looking for a button, she’d be sneaky enough to have pulled one off her uniform to cover her story. And, given the meticulousness with which she kept the residence clean, she’d have left the door to Aletta’s suite in the exact same position after sneaking inside.

  Federico’s furrowed brow showed his train of thought followed Royce’s. Tetyana might have been telling the truth…or not. However, Tetyana Roscha had worked for the family too long, and too hard, for Federico to utter such thoughts aloud, even to Royce.

  “While I’m thinking of it, do you know if your parents ever gave the sisters watches as gifts? I’m no expert, and I didn’t get a close look, but the watches they were each wearing looked nicer than one might expect.”

  Federico smiled at this. “My mother gave each of them a Cartier watch the Christmas before she passed away. She told them it was for their years of service, but at that point, she knew she was terminally ill. She considered leaving each of them something in her estate, but wanted them to have something special while she was still alive to see their enjoyment.”

  “I understand,” Royce said. It addressed one suspicion, but he still didn’t like the fact they were sneaking around. “If you can obtain the information without drawing attention, I’d like to know the time of entry for both Daniela and Tetyana,” Royce said.

  The prince nodded. “When my father receives the weekly security report from Miroslav, I’ll ensure he asks for a complete list of the day’s entries with the time stamps. I’ll pass it along as soon as I can. Chances are, Miroslav will provide that information regardless of a specific request. He is thorough.”

  “He is that.”

  It also occurred to Royce that, if Miroslav were the culprit, regularly providing such information on others was an easy way to deflect suspicion. He doubted Miroslav was involved, but he’d learned that people weren’t always as honest as they seemed.

  Federico took another handful of chocolate-covered peanuts. “Was Daniela curious when you asked her about Tetyana?”

  “She understands the need for security, even if she doesn’t know my exact role.” Royce released a long breath. “Daniela’s another topic we should discuss. She brought me lunch yesterday and we ate together in the great room. She doesn’t remember me. Yet.”

  “I wondered how you knew she walked by the pharmacy on her way to lunch.” The prince gave a slight smile. “She is attentive to detail, or she would not be in Queen Fabrizia’s employ. She organizes the queen’s entire schedule and helps her prepare for events. It’s a massive undertaking. I imagine she has a good memory.”

  “She’s already invited me to share lunch on Monday. It would have been awkward to decline.”

  Federico waved off the concern. “If she learns you were the man she met on her college break, do you think it will be a problem?”

  “It could be if she remembers our conversation. We discussed the fact I planned to enter the military after I left Guatemala. She may question how I came to be a painter.”

  “A painter with good security clearance, or you wouldn’t be trusted in the king’s private rooms. The military background makes you a natural hire.” Federico took another handful of the peanuts and his eyes lit with anticipation before he popped one into his mouth. They must not be as stale as Royce feared.

  After he swallowed, Federico said, “If she guesses the true reason you are there, she should understand the need to maintain your cover.”

  Royce nodded, though he lacked Federico’s confidence. Much as a part of Royce wanted Daniela to know his identity and to be able to speak openly with her, he had good reason to keep his surveillance secret. Trustworthy as she was, if Daniela didn’t know his true role, she wouldn’t have to hide it from others. An odd look, a misspoken word, and he could be revealed. Miroslav, especially, was trained to pick up on such clues.

  Over the years, he’d learned that the fewer people who knew he wasn’t who he appeared to be on an undercover job, the better.

  Federico checked his watch. “I need to return to the palace before my absence is noticed. Is there anything else I should
know?”

  “Not at this point, though given yesterday’s events, it might be prudent to install a camera in the great room. I believe I could do so without attracting Miroslav’s attention, but it may take me a day or two to conceal one effectively if he’s as good at his job as I believe.”

  “I’ll discuss it with my father.”

  “Thank you.” As Federico stood, Royce felt compelled to add, “You know, it’s entirely possible that the thief or thieves are no longer in the palace.”

  “Given that no thefts have been reported in the years since my mother passed away, that is more likely than not. However, while my mother’s rooms are open, it is reassuring to know they are monitored, and by a professional from outside the palace.”

  It was an easy job, as far as surveillance went, and they both knew it. There wasn’t a challenge in it. On the other hand, Royce didn’t want the prince to have unrealistic expectations, particularly given the fee the king had offered for Royce’s services.

  “Those were delicious,” Federico said, gesturing toward the bowl. “Lucrezia tries to keep my diet healthy, but perhaps I could persuade her that these would be good from time to time. Are they dark chocolate? Full of antioxidants or other beneficial nutrients?”

  “Afraid not. Well…maybe some vitamin E in the peanuts.”

  He smiled grimly in the direction of the bowl. “That is unfortunate.”

  Royce checked the feed on the exterior camera to ensure the street was clear ahead of Federico’s departure. “I don’t know. I was just thinking that I should keep a can in my toolbox at the palace in case I need an emergency snack.”

  “A wise idea. Work is bound to stimulate the appetite.” Federico said as he used his phone to send a message to his driver. Before ducking out the door, he added, “I look forward to seeing the progress you’ve made on the walls. I’ll stop by this week.”

  Chapter 14

  Lisa D’Ambrosio stood at her kitchen sink, one hand braced on her hip. With the other, she held aside a white lace curtain so she could watch the activity at her neighbor’s house, which was located slightly downhill, beyond a stand of olive trees.

  Now Daniela knew why the curtain fabric pinched on one side.

  “Mamma, stop spying on the Carrinis.” The words sounded more combative than she’d intended, but after five solid hours working inside her mother’s house, Daniela was nearing the end of her patience. Her flight had touched down in the capital city of Cateri a few hours after sunset the previous night. She’d stopped by her flat to ensure all was well, had a quick drink with a friend who lived in the same building, then made the ninety-minute drive to the village of Lescailles, where she’d been raised. After filling her tank with gas and buying a pack of bottled water, she’d pulled up in front of her mother’s house.

  The driveway and yard had been clear, which gave Daniela hope. She peeked into the passenger window of her mother’s van, which she used for her current job as a private tour guide. As always, it appeared pristine, inside and out. Then Daniela had studied the house. The stone walls, tile roof, and wrought iron flower boxes under the front windows looked solid, at least as far as Daniela could tell under the pale exterior lights. Traditional lace curtains blocked her view inside, but looked neat above the flowers.

  On an exhale, she’d knocked. Her mother’s greeting had been cheery, with a promise of fresh bread and stew for dinner and clean sheets on the bed.

  As she’d entered, though, she realized the curtains had been drawn to hide the fact that boxes and miscellaneous junk—Daniela couldn’t think of it as anything but junk—had been stacked high enough to block the living room windows. Even the overhead light was rendered dim by the sheer volume of belongings cramming the room.

  Entering the house felt like entering a cave of doom.

  Daniela had cut the top of her foot on the front of a rocking horse within thirty seconds of crossing the threshold. When she’d bent to inspect the gash, her mother had chastised her for possibly damaging the horse in the same breath as offering a paper towel to staunch the bleeding.

  It was the first of many curses Daniela had swallowed, though she’d told her mother that a, “thank you for coming on short notice,” might be more appropriate than defending the rights of a one-eyed wooden toy, one she had no reason to own and had likely discovered in a pile at the side of the road on trash day.

  Her mother had taken offense, which wasn’t an auspicious start to the visit. Daniela made up for it by praising both the flower boxes and the stew.

  However, if she wanted her mother to actually stop spying on the Carrini family, Daniela knew she needed to soften her tone. In a light voice, she said, “Please, Mamma. I know you’re concerned, but it’s Saturday. All the government offices are closed. They’re probably going into Lescailles to see their grandchildren.”

  Her mother grumbled. “Gaetana keeps looking this way.”

  “You keep looking at her.”

  “She doesn’t know that. She can’t see me.”

  “I certainly hope not.”

  Her mother whirled on her. “I realize my home isn’t fit for a queen—”

  “Your home—your life—is whatever you make of it, Mamma. Whatever you decide you want it to be. You just need to make that choice and have the will to follow through. It’s no different for a queen or you or me.”

  Her mother’s expression pinched at the gentle rebuke, but she said nothing.

  Daniela picked up a box of cereal from the counter, noticed it was still sealed, then checked the date. It had a recommended consumption date two years prior. She opened the box, withdrew the bagged cereal, and deposited it in the garbage bag she’d hooked over a nearby cabinet handle. She flattened the box and added it to a stack of others she’d take to the recycling bin as soon as the Carrini’s car departed. Much as it’d thrill Gaetana Carrini to know Daniela had come to clean, Daniela didn’t want the neighbor to see the volume of garbage leaving the house.

  She picked up another cereal box. Same brand, same expiration date, same routine.

  The recycling bin outside was already stuffed, which meant Daniela would have to use her mother’s van to transport everything to the recycling center at the edge of the village later that afternoon, before the place closed. Her own car wasn’t big enough.

  Daniela raised her head at her mother’s silence. The older woman’s gaze was locked on the trash bag. “Why did you throw out my cereal? I was going to eat that!”

  Daniela pointed out the date on one of the flattened boxes, but her mother spread her hands. “It’s cereal, Daniela. It doesn’t go bad. You’re being wasteful.”

  “It’s been on this countertop for at least two years. There’s dust on the box. It’s not wasteful to toss it when it’s old and stale. It’s wasteful to have bought it in the first place.”

  “It was on sale.” Her mother planted one hand on the edge of the sink. “I work hard, Daniela. I stick to a budget. I don’t buy things I won’t use.”

  All evidence to the contrary, Daniela thought. In the most calming voice she could muster, she said, “If your budget is important, don’t buy any more pantry food until you eat what you have.”

  “But—”

  “Even if it’s on sale. There’s no sale like the food you already own, all bought and paid for and waiting to be eaten. Right?”

  Her mother’s eyes reflected sadness as she looked toward the trash bag. “I see your point.”

  “It may not feel like it, but if I throw away the old food so you can see what you have that’s fresh, you’ll save money. Look at this.” Daniela held up another box of cereal, one with a date only a month away. “Eat this one now. It’s still fresh, but you’d have missed it behind those other boxes. When all the current boxes are gone, then you can keep your eyes open for sales and buy one box at a time.”

  “With my luck, when the current boxes are gone, there won’t be a sale.” She tightened the tie on her apron, then turned back to the window.


  Daniela resisted the urge to roll her eyes or to point out that the current boxes would never be gone. Instead, she looked past her mother to see Gaetana Carrini climb into the passenger seat of the family’s black hatchback, holding what looked like a large box with a ribbon on top. Her husband stood at the front door with his back to the car. He appeared to be locking up for the day.

  “See?” Daniela said. “They’re going to a party, not heading to town hall.”

  Her mother grunted. “I hope the cat leaves another rat on the doorstep while they’re away. A dozen rats.”

  Daniela started to point out the flawed logic in that comment, then bit back the words. Anything perceived as criticism would hurt more than help.

  She tossed two sleeves of crackers into the trash and reminded herself that the kitchen was the easiest part of her task. As filled with moldy cheese and unrecognizable leftovers as her mother’s refrigerator had been when Daniela first opened it this morning, and as packed with outdated food as the pantry and countertops had become, it was the living room that truly roiled her stomach. Walking through the pseudo-pathways framed by her mother’s piles of junk made Daniela feel like Princess Leia trapped inside the Death Star’s massive trash compactor, its walls slowly moving inward, threatening to crush her to death.