An Apartment in Venice

by Marlene Hill

  “Chuck, I do know how to be quiet. Sneaky, too. As a kid, I snooped in our parents’ place, the grandparents’ too. They never knew.”

  “Maybe they never knew. And maybe they didn’t want to spoil your fun.”

  “Oh no. My dad wouldn’t have put up with it, and now, I agree with him, sneaking is not nice. But,” she laughed softly, “the boys always got caught. They left trails a mile wide.”

  He hugged her again. “I’m not one bit surprised about your sneak-skills, but angel, this will be breaking and entering and—”

  She sighed. “Okay. You’re the expert. I’ll wait… this time.”

  “Good. Got that settled. Now, when you’re finished packing, do we have plans for the rest of this evening?”

  * * *

  After work on Wednesday afternoon, Giulia noticed a pizza shop not far from Chuck’s studio and called to tell him she’d bring supper. It was the same place from which he’d brought pizza the first night they’d made love. His apartment had no oven to keep it hot, but they made do and ate picnic style on top of his king-sized bed.

  “This pizza’s okay but not as good as the thrice-baked kind,” he said leaning over for a kiss. “Now, before I go, I need to refresh my memory on how to use this digital camera so if I find ‘contraband underwear,’ I can —”

  She stifled a giggle.

  “I can take fast photos and scram.”

  “I like the scram part,” she said.

  About eight, Chuck left for the post. He slipped in a side door of the admin building, took the stairs to the top floor—the third—and walked silently along each hallway looking for lights and listening for voices. Ogle’s office was on the first floor. When he reached that landing, he stopped to pull out a pair of thin rubber gloves. He felt certain the building was empty, although a cleaning person could appear any time. Or Ogle.

  As soon as Chuck got inside Ogle’s office, he checked for a possible exit. The office was larger than most and had a private half bath with a window. He opened the window wide and leaned his head and shoulders out making sure he could squeeze through if he had to. It would be a bit of a drop, since the first floor was at least ten steps from the ground, but he could hang from the sill and then drop. He left it wide open.

  Back in the office, he pulled out a penlight and began his search. He was almost finished when he heard footsteps coming down the hallway. He froze. He closed a desk drawer without a sound and holding his breath slipped down the short hallway toward the open window. Then he heard the squeak of wheels. A janitor’s cart? With his hands on the sill ready to hoist himself through it, he waited. The squeaking wheels moved past Ogle’s door and stopped. A door opened from what sounded like a couple doors down. Wheels squeaked again, and a door closed.

  Chuck went back to the desk, pulled out the top right-hand drawer again, picked up the folder marked Cavinato that he’d seen when he’d heard the noise. When he opened it, the local information page was on the top and a blue pencil circled the words Pensione Luciana. He took more photos. He put the folder back and closed its drawer. He’d already snapped pictures of black panties scrunched under folders in the bottom drawer of the desk. The last sound heard in Ogle’s office was the bathroom window easing shut.

  On his way across the street toward the parking garage, Chuck glanced at his watch. Nine ten. According to a friendly secretary in charge of coordinating events, two visiting administrators from the University of Maryland were being wined and dined at Hotel De La Ville. The dinner would have barely started at nine. If Chuck knew anything about Oliver Ogle, he would not miss an opportunity to suck up to any perceived power. Confirming this notion, Ogle’s calendar had indicated he planned to be there. Written in a small, controlled hand in blue pencil were the words “Cocktails, 8:30.” Chuck grimaced at the irony of both Giulia’s nemeses hanging out at the same hotel.

  He found Rob Ryland’s dark green Fiat Pinto where he’d said it would be. They had exchanged keys that afternoon. Chuck’s car was great for spotting in a crowded parking lot, but canary yellow did not make for a good getaway.

  “Ciao. It’s me. I’m moving on to the next location. Wish me luck.”

  Giulia sounded frustrated and pleaded again to join him. He replied, “Wait up for me, love.”

  “You think I’d sleep?” she said in a hoarse voice.

  “Calma, per favore!” he said and closed the phone.

  Chuck had been to a boring function in Ogle’s house once. Villa, Ogle called it, as many did who had houses outside the center of town. Viale Camisano was easy to find. It was an ancient—but still used—road leading to Padova. He parked the little car behind a grove of trees across a plowed field at the rear of Ogle’s house.

  First he switched off the dome light, then pulled on a new pair of surgical gloves and covered them with leather ones in case he needed to climb trees or fences or other obstacles. Dressed in black cargo pants, heavy black sweatshirt and black running shoes with soft leather soles, he set off toward the house.

  Once inside, he located the security panel. The system was a farce, and in minutes Chuck was glancing around the main floor. He sprinted up the steps to the bedrooms, figuring Ogle would want his souvenirs in a private area. He entered the master bedroom. When he closed the door on a large walk-in closet and found the light switch, he sucked in a breath. No racks for hanging clothes nor shelves for hats, gloves, or shoes were visible. Instead, a metal panel about three and one-half feet wide was mounted along each of the walls facing each other. The entire space was designed for his collection. A large collection of feminine under garments. Mounted on the metal surfaces were sets of matching bras and panties. Ogle had used colored magnetic circles: blue ones, brown ones, and green to mount his trophies. The circles were part of a coding system because each carried a tiny date printed in indelible ink. Chuck needed to break the code, hoping he’d find it somewhere in the house.

  Then he recognized Giulia’s light-blue, lace-trimmed bra and panties to match, the ones she’d worn their first night of love making. They were attached with one brown and one blue magnet. Ah ha. Eyes. Another set, which was also held in place by the dual magnets in her colors included a bra made completely of white lace with white lace panties to match. Damn! He hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing her in those.

  He wanted to snatch them off the wall and get the hell out of there. Get a grip, man, calm yourself. He needed to leave them here for the search warrant. Which I WILL get. The code system was obvious. Now he needed to find the filing system with names and maybe pictures. Oliver would surely want to gloat over them. First, though, he took pictures of the entire closet museum.

  It was 10:30 p.m. when he finished shooting all the items. That dinner might be over soon. Where would Ogle keep folders with personal information? He turned off the light, closed the closet door on the hidden trophies and left in search of a filing cabinet or safe. Four other doors were on this floor. He opened each one. Two were furnished as bedrooms, one was a small bathroom and the one across from Ogle’s master suite held a home office. Chuck pulled the drapes closed. To save time, he switched on the overhead lights. It didn’t take long to find a cabinet with file folders also colored to match the blue, brown, and green of the magnets. All the blues were bunched together as were the browns and the greens. A few tabs were colored to look like hazel and two were grey. Only one had both blue and brown.

  He snatched that one first, and sure enough Giulia’s sweet face looked at him. Her name, height, weight and. . .bust size, waist size, hip size—what the fuck! Where did Ogle get that information? Bastard!

  Chuck couldn’t stand it. He hurried back to the trophy closet and carefully removed Giulia’s bras and panties and stuffed them into the deep pockets of his cargo pants. If all this made it as evidence in a court, he would not allow his woman’s intimate wear to be on display.

  Back to the cabinet full of folders. He felt uneasy prying into other women’s information but needed to verify Og
le’s system. Sure enough, it included dates and locations of where the prizes had been “collected” as Ogle phrased it. Chuck photographed the insides of enough folders to document that most of these were U.S. citizens. If Ogle were ever arrested, that information would be valuable because the arrest would go through the U.S. court system.

  I’ve been here too long. He closed all the cabinet drawers. Turned off the lights in the home office, opened the drapes to where they’d been before and was starting down the stairs when he stopped in his tracks. If Giulia’s underwear wasn’t here, how could she prove Ogle had ransacked her apartment? Shit! Dammit to hell! They had to be on that infernal wall. He raced back up the stairs. His fingers fumbled as he foraged in his deep pockets for the magnets that he’d dropped in with her things. They might not be arranged exactly as they had been but, hell, who was Ogle going to complain to?

  On the way downstairs again, he heard the distinctive sound of a diesel engine. Ogle was home. When Chuck was on the bottom step, the lights of the Mercedes flashed through the front windows of the house as Ogle pulled around to the back. Chuck had planned to leave by the rear entrance in order to re-set the alarm system. That wasn’t going to happen. He’d have to leave by the front. Surely all the doors were on the same system. Worth trying.

  As he was about to open the front door, he heard Ogle muttering to himself as he walked past a front window coming straight for the front door. What was that all about? He didn’t wait to find out.

  Moving with stealth and speed, Chuck reached the rear door, opened it, re-set the alarm and raced across the field to the grove of trees. His heart was thudding. I’m getting too old for this stuff. He didn’t remove his rubber gloves until he was inside the little car. Gloves? Where were the leather ones? He stepped out of the car to reach into his deep pockets. Ah. There they were. He’d worried he hadn’t followed his time-honored pattern of never laying a tool or personal item down. When he turned toward the villa, a light appeared on the main floor. By the time he settled back in the car, that light was out and another came on upstairs. The monster was in his lair. Does he visit his trophies every evening?

  On the way into town, Chuck made a mental note to clean Ryland’s car for him since he’d crashed through a muddy stream to get away.

  * * *

  “He’s the one, isn’t he?” Giulia said. Her eyes looked haunted after seeing the pictures Chuck had taken.

  “Yessss.” Chuck dragged the word. “Still don’t believe he’s the only one.”

  “What?” she said looking up from his camera.

  “You saw the destruction that day. Broken furniture, cushions slashed, crockery broken. Ogle could have done all that, but I doubt he’d waste time on that stuff. His goal was on these,” and he pointed to the pictures.

  “It was smart to put my underthings back on that… wall. They need to be there if he’s ever investigated. I’d never touch them again anyway.”

  “Oh sweetheart, I understand.” He pushed the camera aside. “Come here.”

  Later, lying together spoon fashion in his bed, Chuck said, “Damn.”

  “What?” Giulia said, drowsing against his warm body.

  “Do you suppose we could find you some more frothy, white things?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Friday morning—Giulia’s day to go to Oliver’s office—Chuck stopped her as they left his studio for the post.

  “Micina? One last time. Are you ready to go into Oliver’s alone?” He knew she’d been restless all night.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.” Her voice sounded chipper, even flip.

  “Thank God, you won’t have to wear a wire. Yesterday I stood outside Ogle’s office wearing the voice-activated system, and I could hear him loud and clear. I’ll hear every word you have with that creep.”

  She took his hands, kissed his palms and held them. “Karlo.”

  No one had said his name with such compassion and sweetness since his mother had died.

  “Thank you for all you’re doing,” Giulia said. “You’re a mensch. With you nearby, l’ll be fine.”

  * * *

  “As Giulia stepped into Oliver’s office that afternoon, he leaned out the door and looked both ways.

  “What? No guard standing by?”

  She ignored that and casually took her usual seat in front of his desk. “We have much to discuss, don’t we?”

  “We do. We do indeed little lady. Let’s get this special session in gear,” he said, turning the deadbolt mechanism behind her.

  The clunk made Giulia’s heart pound. She “knew” it wasn’t locking, but it sounded so solid. So final. Nevertheless, she waited as calmly as she could for Oliver to settle behind his desk and fuss with his papers.

  “You’re certified to teach Italian as a second language?”

  “I am. You’ll find a copy of the certification attached to my resume.”

  Rubbing his hands together, he opened a folder making clicking sounds with his tongue as he ran a finger down one of the papers. “Certified to teach English as a second language, but—”

  She held her position and did not lean over his desk to show him.

  “Oh yes. Here it is. My, my. And what else are we certified for?” He looked straight at her with his pale, reptilian eyes. “Certified to suck me off?”

  She did not blink. Instead, she stared him down and hoped Chuck’s high-tech device was transmitting this horrible man’s words onto tape. Oliver’s face and neck were flushed and his breathing seemed labored. From the moment he’d sat down, he’d been casually rocking an oversized mechanical pencil held between his thumb and forefinger. The tips of the pencil click-clacked against the metal desktop. The clicking seemed to increase in speed.

  Lord, I need to calm him down. “Do you have an idea how many military personnel will be in the Italian class?” she asked. “Has an announcement been published about it?”

  Miraculously, the pencil slowed. “So far, we have eleven who have signed up. It would depend on the schedule and location of the class, of course.”

  “Eleven is a good size for a class to make progress.”

  “Yes. Progress. Yes indeed. Well, no doubt faster progress could be achieved if you held smaller classes—maybe in your nifty apartment in town, say, in your bedroom?” He looked up at her with predatory eyes.

  For a moment, she felt shaken but clamped her teeth and sat up straighter. He wants me to know. She said nothing and sneaked a deep breath.

  His pencil rocked steadily, and she noticed his other hand move beneath the desk.

  “What is the pay scale for teaching extra-curricular classes on the base?”

  Again, he seemed to switch into a business mode and turned to his computer, tapping the keys with both hands. He began discussing pay scales for various extra teaching duties. But he jerked his head up and suggested private classes. He bobbed his eyebrows as Chuck had done once in jest, but on Oliver, the action was ugly, menacing.

  “Mr. Ogle, I’m not interested in private classes. Studies have shown that students usually do better in a small class of peers. And I don’t have time to accommodate eleven students on an individual basis. I could teach Italian on Friday afternoons, unless students would prefer another day because of the weekend.” As if she’d just thought of it, she said, “Or, if not Fridays, Monday or Wednesday afternoons would be good. I’d prefer not to hold night classes.”

  “Found someone to fuck every night, eh?”

  She stared at him. The air was thick with an electric charge. She’d had enough. “Do you speak to all your personnel this way?”

  “Only those with cunts.” The pencil began to drum faster, and more red spots mottled his face.

  “I see. Does that work for you?”

  “It’s a numbers game, dolly, a numbers game. With all your education surely you understand the laws of statistics.” Sweat beaded on his forehead and around his upper mouth. A strange odor filled the space between them. Strange and unpleasa
nt. Was she sensing her own fear?

  She jerked to her feet. “Please send me suggested times. I’ll e-mail back my availability.” Gathering her purse and scarf, she said, “After we settle that, I’ll come in to sign a separate contract.”

  For once he didn’t comment but she heard a zipper slide.

  Still standing, she said, “I want to teach this class, but I need to keep the same working days as specified in my present contract. If afternoons don’t work, I could come in early any of those three days.”

  Out of nowhere, he sneered and said, “How about using your place behind Pensione Luciana for private classes?”

  She staggered back. He’s bragging about stalking me. About breaking in. She whirled toward the door. As before, he moved fast and reached her just as she got her hand on the door.

  “You cock teaser! You’re not getting away this time.” He grasped her blouse. She screamed. Thank God the door opened in her hand but not before the cloth ripped.

  “What the fuck? I locked that. Knew something was off with that door.” He charged after her. His foul breath hot in her face, Oliver managed to grab hold of a breast and squeezed. Hard. At that moment, Chuck and Colonel Ryland crashed in with Marlowe behind them. They’d decided at the last minute it’d be good to have a female witness along. Marlowe pulled out her brand-new camera phone and started snapping pictures. Chuck pulled Giulia away growling, “Get out of here! Now!”

  At that same moment, Ryland, almost as big as Chuck, yanked Oliver away from her and the front half of her blouse tore away. As soon as Giulia was out of harm’s way, Chuck helped Ryland restrain Oliver. Both men took particular pains to use no unnecessary roughness, although Chuck longed to break the bastard’s neck. Marlowe continued to take pictures until she noticed Oliver’s fly was unzipped. She caught a couple shots of light-green fabric poking out before Ryland turned him toward the door. Through her lens, she noticed Giulia’s state of undress. After shooting a picture, she removed her own jacket and wrapped it around Giulia’s shoulders then hurried back to take more shots. Giulia staggered out the door and stumbled along the wall of the corridor.