No, she couldn’t go home. She grabbed the edges of the window and put her feet on the wall, climbing as best she could. She was leaving bloody smears on the white walls, but couldn’t have cared less about that. Mateo would know she’d gone through the window. Now she had to move fast so anyone still in the house wouldn’t catch her and drag her back.
The night was freezing against her hot skin, and she could feel the warm spots where she was bleeding after her awkward trip through the window sash. She turned in the direction of the one place that came to mind when she thought of safety. She kept to the shadows and didn’t encounter anyone as she ran.
When she saw the building, she came out of the shadows and ran to Porto delle Donne. She approached the front door and froze when a man looked out of a guard cage at her. His expression was concerned, and she was relieved when he didn’t ask her any questions. She glanced down at her bloody naked body. It looked worse than it was. The worst pain was deep in her hand, which she must have broken.
“You’re going to be okay. Let’s get you inside.” He pressed a button on the wall above his little desk.
A tired voice came over an intercom. “Si, Azure, what is…Oh!” The woman cleared her throat. “I didn’t see you, dear. I’m Kate. Azure, I’m buzzing her in.” Her voice went soft. “What’s your name, child?”
“Benedetta.”
Once he was alone in the Little Church, Americo went straight to his office, grabbing the key from around his neck. He used it to unlock a secret panel in the back of his middle desk drawer, reached in, and took out the disposable cell phone. He turned it on and, as he waited for it to power up, he sat down and took a deep breath. He called the only contact, and within moments the voice of Hierotymis Karno answered in a professional tone, “Cellular service, what is your account number?”
“Sixty-eight eleven seventy-one, N as in nada.”
Karno’s voice changed to his usual flat delivery. “I see on the news that Salvio caught a few bullets to the head. What do you need, Negrali?”
“I’ve seen enough. Your team needs to move forward. I’m coming back to Rome and calling an emergency meeting of the College. We’re going to get into position to oust Leopold.”
“About time. I figured you’d get rid of him after he and Verona made Marconi give your villas back.”
“Look into Vincenzo. Salvio looked as if he has something on him…and he called him a faggot.”
“A faggot? Are you sure?”
“Not really. There was a lot going on, but that’s what it sounded like. I know Salvio was onto something with Vincenzo.”
“We don’t need any more mind-bending Veronas meddling in Vatican affairs.”
“I agree. And for a while, I thought Salvio might do our work for us.”
“Never expect a madman to do a professional’s job.”
“Not only that, but apparently there are worshippers of the Boatman right here in Venice. I was in a temple. The Inquisition needs to take care of that.”
“The Boatman, eh? An Alithinían Church in Venice? Well, I’m never surprised by Marcion of Sinope’s little band of pacifists.”
“What can finally put an end to the Alithinían Church?”
“It’s called a gun.”
Luigi hurried through the frenzied criminal department at four in the morning. On his way to Inspector Laszlo’s office, he dodged detectives on their way to or from one of yesterday’s five murder scenes. He’d reached the conclusion that there must be a mole in the police ranks—it explained how Scortini had escaped and eluded them—so he was going to keep new key evidence a secret from everyone in the department, including the inspector.
Laszlo waved him to a chair across from his desk. “So? What’ve you got?”
“Scortini hired a team of hit men to kill his wife and the Veronas.”
“He was still on that strange quest, just as you thought. He killed a lot of collateral people tonight.”
“Sì, and he succeeded in killing Count Gabrieli Verona.”
“Such an odd manner of killing the count. Why drowning instead of, say, shooting him?”
“It was quieter is my guess.”
“What’s your preliminary rundown?”
“Two men were tasked with killing Raphielli. They attempted to get her at her shelter earlier and killed her daytime guard, Alexi, in that attempt. We found his body under a pier about an hour after that incident. They came back last night and killed the night guard, the cook, and a nurse but still didn’t get Raphielli. The residents used lethal force to defend themselves, and two hit men were dead when we arrived.”
“Knitting needles, I hear.”
“Uh-huh. We have security footage of the guard’s murder, entry through the back door, and a second hit man being let into the front door by the first one. At the same time, Salvio broke into Scortini Palazzo through a remote door on the property, and stabbed his valet before running outside and getting shot to death.”
“What about the French connection?”
“Salvio sent killers for Giselle Verona. Two are dead on her property, and French police have Bernardo Vitti, who’s from right here in Murano. He was arrested after being chemically subdued. They’ve charged Vitti with conspiracy to commit murder and say they have evidence on his phone.”
Laszlo looked back at his computer screen. “Let them keep him until we clear up the paperwork. Then see if we want to charge him with anything.”
“I’ve requested the phone, but they’re not willing to hand it over,” Luigi said.
“Give them some time to get familiar with their case before requesting the phone again.”
“I want it now.” Luigi felt maddening frustration at the prospect of waiting for evidence. “I need what’s on that phone. I feel like the threads of this case are slipping through my fingers. I can’t believe you don’t feel the same urgency. I need to get to the bottom of Scortini’s conspiracy against his targets before the next attacks.”
“Next attacks? Scortini’s dead.”
“That doesn’t void the hits he put on his targets.”
He thought about his visit to the shelter this morning and everything Benedetta Amendola had told him. He’d made sure Kate listed her rapist as “unknown” on the intake paperwork, and they both promised not to tell anyone it was Salvio. If she was another key to this widening plot, he was going to keep her existence a secret.
“So, who killed Scortini?” Laszlo asked.
“Whoever he pulled a knife on.”
“What’s your plan?”
“Get to the bottom of this, that’s my plan. I didn’t get the truth when I spoke to Raphielli and witnesses at her palazzo last night.”
“Okay, that’s your priority.”
Luigi left the office and Laszlo called after him, “Now get some breakfast. Man cannot live on Pocket Coffees alone.”
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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