To Catch a Groom

by Rebecca Winters

  “Get this—” he said in a burst of laughter. “They call the female Violetta, after the Duchess. Since this fictitious monk who remained a mystery for over a century had no first name, she and her sisters decided to call him Luigio, a subtle distortion of the second half of Maria-Luigia’s name.”

  A flashback of a certain moment in the pool of the Splendido hit Max squarely in the gut.

  Greer—Your name is as unique as you are. Why don’t you guess mine?

  Luigio?

  The whole time Max had been toying with her, she’d been playing him for a complete fool!

  “She says that one of her great-grandfathers, Alberto Duchess, served in World War I in the Signal Corps. Are you ready for this?” Nic’s eyes appeared dazed as they traveled from Luc to Max. “He raised Duchesse pigeons for a hobby.

  “One of them carried a message that saved the lives of several hundred men and received a medal of honor from Great Britain. Señorita Piper says the medal is at home among their family mementos.”

  Max’s dark head reared back. “Signorina Greer told me to look in her sister’s suitcase and I would find samples of this calendar.”

  “Their luggage is in the car,” Nic declared. “Do you think the samples are really there?”

  No one said anything or made a move to walk outside. Max suspected his cousins were holding back for the same reason he was. But they couldn’t stand there forever smoldering with curiosity. It was four in the morning and they were dead on their feet.

  Letting out a curse he finally said, “Come on. Let’s find out and get this over with.”

  They made their way to the restricted parking area. Luc trailed because at this point he was favoring his cane. They were the only people moving about in the dark.

  Max opened the trunk of the estate car they’d driven over from the villa. The inside light made it possible to see enough without needing a flashlight. Nic found the case with the initials PD on it and opened the locks.

  After feeling around her clothes, he produced a large square manila envelope. As his cousin proceeded to empty the contents, Max found himself holding his breath.

  Out came six calendars.

  Luc reached for one of them. “Men’s Most Notable Quotes About Women,” he read aloud.

  “For Women Only,” Nic mouthed the title of another sample. Max grabbed for a similar calendar and opened the cover to January’s quote for the month.

  So Many Men… So Few Who Can Afford Me.

  Sure enough, there was the female pigeon Violetta, dressed in a gown and jewels. The male, Luigio, looking weary and dejected, tagged behind.

  Max’s eyes widened to realize they’d entered an exclusive designer shop on one of the fashionable boulevards in Parma. Next to a pair of shoes, a handbag and dress she’d drawn placards showing astronomical prices both in lire and dollars.

  Astonished, he turned to February’s quote.

  Coffee, Chocolate… Men. Some Things Are Just Better Rich.

  This time the two pigeons sat in an elegant pastry shop near the Teatro Farnese in Parma drinking espresso and munching on their world famous chocolate biscotti. While Luigio looked longingly at her, Violetta played footsie beneath the table with a well-dressed Italian pigeon wearing the ducale corona emblem. Incredible.

  March’s quote.

  Don’t Treat Me Any Differently Than You Would The Queen.

  It was yet another drawing of poor, helpless, love-smitten Luigio throwing down his cloak for the treacherous yet delectable Violetta who was visiting Langhirano where you could see the very long, narrow windows, shuttered and open—designated to ventilate the aging hams.

  April’s quote.

  Behind Every Successful Woman Is A Woman.

  His curiosity insatiable by now, Max studied each rendition with total absorption. He came to November.

  Ginger Rogers Did Everything Fred Astaire Did, But She Did It Backward And In High Heels.

  There was Luigio in a tux and top hat. Violetta wore a gown and high heels while she danced backward on the staircase of the Palazzo della Pilotta in Parma.

  Like being mesmerized at the scene of a fire where you couldn’t look away, he turned to December.

  A Man’s Gotta Do What A Man’s Gotta Do. A Woman’s Got To Do What He Can’t.

  The irony of the quote twisted something unpleasant in his gut. Finally he took in the sketch of the enormously pregnant Violetta lying on a gurney in the Torrile Bird Hospital in Parma while Luigio lay passed out on the floor.

  Not that many of his own countrymen knew about the bird refuge his family helped fund. Max was convinced Signorina Greer’s research had to be aided and abetted by someone on the inside.

  He also had to admit the two pigeons exuded so much individual human charm and personality, one could only marvel. This clever, stunning creation based on bits of myth and reality would have universal appeal for women, even for those ignorant of Parma or its history.

  But the acerbic quotes he could imagine coming out of Greer’s succulent mouth, served with a contemporary sting, which he as a man felt like the lash of a whip, had wiped the smile off his face.

  “Look on the back.” Luc’s grating voice broke the unnatural stillness. No doubt he and Nic were still smarting from the quotes, too.

  Max turned his calendar over. At the bottom center was an oval with a stylized Duchesse Pigeon and the words Duchesse Designs printed inside the rim.

  “The existence of the calendars doesn’t mean they’re innocent of the crime,” Luc proclaimed in a wooden voice. “A good liar always mixes in enough truth to be convincing.”

  Nic exhaled sharply. “You’re right.”

  By tacit agreement they put the calendars back in the suitcase. Max shut the trunk before getting in the car to head for the villa. “As soon as Signore Rossi arrives at his office later on this morning, we’ll show him the pendants. When we learn the truth about them, then we’ll know what to do with the signorine.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ITALY’S top jewelry authenticator of their national treasures barely glanced at the first two pendants front and back before declaring them fakes. But the moment he picked up the third one, he got excited.

  Max exchanged speculative glances with Nic and Luc before they followed Signore Rossi to his worktable where he placed the pendant under a special light. With his loupe he wore like a pair of glasses, he performed a meticulous examination.

  His finger tapped on it. “Yes,” he said after several minutes, nodding his gray head. “This piece has Tocelli’s mark in the space between the intertwining D and P on the back. Momento—” He reached for his workbook containing photocopies and drawings of the Maria-Luigia collection.

  Max’s body grew more rigid as he watched Signore Rossi turn to the section on the Duchesse pendant for final verification.

  The news that the original had indeed surfaced again meant the theory he and his cousins had come up with still held; Signorina Greer and her sisters were part of a bigger conspiracy.

  Which also meant that except for the calendars, everything else Max had heard pour forth from her provocative lips in that jail cell was pure spin!

  For some reason he couldn’t fathom, he had to admit he was disappointed. When he stole a glance at his cousins, their sobriety revealed a startling bleakness that probably mirrored his own dark thoughts.

  The ticking of an antique clock added a dirgelike quality to the unearthly quiet. Then Max heard a strange cry come out of Signore Rossi who started to grow animated. He removed his glasses and rose to his feet, staring at them as if he’d just seen a vision.

  “How did you say you came by this pendant?”

  “We recovered it from some Americans who were each wearing one when they flew into Genoa-Sestri airport two days ago.”

  “Then this means the court artisan who was commissioned to fashion the first pendant, secretly made a second one.”

  Max’s thoughts reeled. He exchanged shocked glances
with his cousins before addressing Signore Rossi. “With all due respect, you must be mistaken.”

  “No!” The old man shook his head emphatically. “This is the original pendant. There can be no mistake. But it’s not the same original that was stolen with the collection from the museum. The Tocelli mark is there, but more elongated. Come. See for yourselves.”

  In a matter of minutes Max and his cousins had witnessed irrefutable proof that two authentic pendants did exist. As they eyed each other in wonder, all sorts of new possibilities flooded his mind.

  If the signorine had nothing to do with the theft, then it stood to reason they’d been telling the truth about everything else. Furthermore, with the possession of another original pendant, it could be used to flush out the real thief.

  “This is great cause for celebration,” Signore Rossi exclaimed, oblivious to their reaction.

  “It’s fantastic news, signore, but you must say nothing about it,” Nic cautioned in a grave tone before Max could. “Not until the person who stole the collection is apprehended and the other pendant returned. Then both can be displayed to the public.”

  “We’re certain someone with close ties to our family was behind the theft,” Max explained. “With this pendant, we might be able to lay a trap for them, I’m sure they would want this one, too, but we’ll need your full cooperation.”

  Signore Rossi nodded. “Of course. Of course. What can I do to help?”

  Luc’s eyes had grown hooded. “No one outside this room must know what we’ve discovered until we’re ready to have it announced. That means you can’t say anything to anyone. Is that clear?”

  “Si.”

  Max looked around. “Do you have something I can put the pendants in for safe keeping?”

  “Right here.” He pulled several velvet pouches out of one of the drawers.

  In an economy of movement Max put the original in one, the other two in the second little bag. Once he’d closed the drawstrings and the pouches were put safely away in his pockets, he took hold of the old man’s hands and shook them.

  “One day soon we’ll put the real jewel thief behind bars. When that happens, you’ll know the extent of our gratitude for your help and cooperation.”

  After saying goodbye, no one spoke again until they’d gone out to the car where Max eyed his cousins. “Before either of you says a word, let me tell you about the Husband Fund.”

  “The what?” Luc’s expression was comical.

  “To quote Signorina Greer, it’s a fund for husband hunting.”

  Nic shook his head. “Husband hunting?”

  Judging by their reactions, the subject hadn’t come up during their interrogation of the prisoners.

  “Of course it might be one of her colossal lies, but after looking at those calendars, I’m not so sure.” His brows lifted. “Do you two want to have a little fun before we get back to more serious family business?”

  While Greer was playing a game in her head to keep herself from going crazy, a different guard came down the hall.

  “Buon giorno, signorina. Did you enjoy your lunch?”

  “It was the best toothbreaking roll I ever tried to bite into. I can’t wait to see what you’re serving for dinner.”

  “That won’t be for a long time.” He opened her cell. “The commissioner will see you now.”

  “How lovely of him.”

  She followed the guard through the door at the end of the hall and around the corner to the commissioner’s office. He stood up as soon as he saw her.

  “Sit down, signorina. Make yourself comfortable.”

  “I’ve been sitting on my cot for over—” She glanced at the clock. “Sixteen hours now, and would rather stand, thank you.”

  “As you wish.” He made that typical Italian gesture with his hands, palms up. It reminded her of someone else she knew. Someone she never wanted to see or think about again.

  “I demand to be able to make one phone call to my attorney.”

  “That won’t be necessary. It turns out the pendant your sister was wearing was a copy of the missing Duchesse pendant. I’m sorry you were incarcerated by mistake.

  “The first mate of the Piccione has been very worried about you and has stayed in constant contact. As soon as I told him you’d been cleared of all charges, your sisters were released into the hands of the crew.”

  Noooooooooo. For all she knew Olivia and Piper had been kidnapped. She was still entirely convinced the crew were jewelry thieves who didn’t believe the girls had no money. They needed help fast.

  “He is waiting outside, ready to drive you to the dock at Lerici so you can continue on with your holiday.”

  Her body froze. No way.

  “I would like to use your phone please. I have money.”

  “As long as it’s a local call, be my guest.”

  So that was how he was going to play it. “May I see your phone directory then.”

  “If you need a taxi, allow me to take you wherever it is you wish to go, Signorina Greer.” The deep, familiar male voice speaking in heavily accented English came from behind her.

  Her back stiffened in response. “No, thanks.” She was still facing the commissioner. “The phone directory please, signore.”

  “But I insist,” her enemy taunted her.

  After no sleep, a crust of week old bread, a thimble of water and no shower or change of clothes, Greer had run out of patience.

  She wheeled around, noticing inconsequently that the black-haired god was fresh shaven and wore a cream shirt with tan pants. The fact that his clothes accentuated his well-defined chest and rock-hard legs only increased her rage.

  “I’d rather stay in here, thank you.” So saying she marched out of the office and down around the corner of the jail where she spied the guard sitting at his post.

  “Will you please open the door so I can go back to my cell?”

  He flashed her a patronizing smile. “You’ve been released, signorina.”

  “I’ll pay you to lock me in again.” She reached down the neck of her top and pulled out two twenty dollars bills to hand him.

  “You Americans—” He threw his head back and laughed.

  So far every Italian man she’d met was in cahoots against her. This grinning idiot was as awful as the balding guard from last night.

  “If you’ll appeal to me nicely,” came Max’s low, velvety voice over her shoulder, “I’ll give you something to prove you can trust me.”

  How did he do that? How did he make her traitorous body respond like a kitten to cream when she knew one lick would be fatal?

  Greer nodded her head in disgust before facing him once more. “Nothing but the return of our pendants, our passports and airline tickets would convince me there’s the slightest shred of decency in you. Even then—”

  “Yes?” he whispered huskily before pulling things out of the pockets of his pants like passports and airline tickets. Last of all came a little velvet pouch. He handed everything to her. When she looked inside, she counted three pendants.

  How clever he was! Give her back their possessions knowing she would never abandon her sisters, knowing they were still helpless. And only he knew where they’d been taken by his two cohorts.

  “You were saying, signorina?”

  “I was saying that even then, it would be an empty gesture because it would mean you’d had the pendants appraised and found out you probably couldn’t get more than fifty euros a piece for them.”

  “Seventy-five on the black market.”

  The temperature in her cheeks had shot up well over a hundred degrees. “I rest my case.”

  He cocked his dark head. “I hope that was an olive branch of sorts. Let’s agree to agree we all got off to a bad start. You came spouse hunting and were sadly disappointed. My co-workers and I went treasure hunting and came up empty-handed.

  “But since Signore Moretti has already paid us our wages from the Husband Fund your parents left you, why don’t we start over
again. I see no reason why we can’t all get along for the next nine days before you have to fly home to Ron, was it?”

  It gave her some satisfaction to know she’d dented his ego. Otherwise he wouldn’t have deliberately pretended he hadn’t heard her say “Don.”

  “You mean there’ll be no hidden agenda,” she drawled with heavy sarcasm. “We’ll just do whatever comes naturally.”

  He put a hand over his heart. “You still don’t trust me. I’m wounded, signorina. At the risk of offending you, if you recall when I asked you to swim with me at the Splendido, you didn’t exactly turn me down.”

  “That’s true,” she admitted honestly. “However if I had, you wouldn’t have taken no for an answer. I saw where your eyes were looking. They erupted like black fires when they recognized the pendant.”

  “If you’d seen the purple flames in yours while you were watching me walk across the tiles toward you…” His voice throbbed. “I felt like I was being consumed alive. There’s nothing more flattering to a man.”

  “Too bad I had to open the cover of the book and find out you rated a four. I’d thought an eight at least.”

  “And I’d thought the pendant worth a million. What do you say we bury our disappointments and just be friends for the duration of your trip.”

  It was a trick.

  No women could just be friends with men like the crew of the Piccione. But it looked like she would have to go along with him a little longer if she hoped to be reunited with her sisters. Once they were together, they would work out a way to lose the crew and disappear.

  “Why not?” She threw out her bluff. “As I’ve learned in business, you win a few, lose a few.”

  She started walking back toward the main entrance of the jail. In a long stride he’d caught up to her.

  “I don’t imagine too many men clamor for your calendars.”

  Good. He’d rifled through her sister’s suitcase. She smiled in spite of her issues with him. “You’d be surprised how many of them buy one to get their revenge on the women who rejected them. Kind of a ‘look at yourself in the mirror’ dark humor.”