by Fiona Grace
“Went. It was all over town. Very bitter. Their fights were so loud and terrible! Once, she actually tried to run him over with her car, in the middle of the street! Then she took all his clothes and belongings, hauled them out to the end of the pier, and tossed them over! They hated each other at the end.” Her eyes gleamed with the excitement of the gossip. “I don’t think he has been the same since. But who could blame him?”
A bitter divorce, Audrey thought. That must’ve been the dirty laundry that Sabina was afraid to talk about. “Where is the wife?”
Amalie shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess she still lives in their house on via Oliva. Big white building on the hill. But if she does, she doesn’t go out much. Dr. Mauro moved into the apartment over his clinic. I think he just wanted to get away from her in the end. He just wanted to be done with the confrontation.”
“I met him once,” Audrey said, thinking, He didn’t strike me as a person who didn’t care. In fact, he cared too much that I was infringing on his business. “And at that point he didn’t seem averse to confrontation. In fact, I tried to speak to him about working on fixing the stray problem, and he shut me out.”
Amalia giggled. “I heard.”
“You did?”
“Of course! The whole town did. You had quite the audience, didn’t you? That’s how I knew you were in Lipari. That was an exciting bit of gossip—well, until Dr. Mauro was found dead.”
“He seemed to care an awful lot about me stepping on his toes, then.”
“Yes. I think it makes sense.”
“It does?”
She nodded. “Dr. Mauro was a very proud man. As much as he might’ve been letting things with his business slide, this is where he grew up. He took a lot of pride in being important to us, our only veterinarian. So I can understand him feeling a little territorial about his practice and not wanting anyone to move in and change things, after working here forty years. It must’ve been hard for him.”
They’d walked to the end of the block. Just then, a voice down the street, behind them, called, rather harshly, “Amalia!”
She stiffened. “Oops! Sorry! I’ve got to go. I was in the middle of chores when we found poor Milo. I need to clean the bathroom.” She wrinkled her nose. “Take care, Doctor!”
“You, too. And please let me know how Milo is!” she called, as the girl rushed down the sidewalk, toward her home, braids flying out behind her.
Audrey took a few moments to look around, trying to orient herself in the intersection. She noticed the shoreline and the pier and then headed in that direction, hoping that was where her hotel was. Her clothes were now so stiff and tight, they were chafing her skin, and her underwear was wet, which wasn’t the nicest feeling.
She took a step off the curb, thinking about what Amalia had said. A bitter divorce. An ex-wife who nearly killed him. Living in a big white house on via Oliva.
It was definitely worth looking into. But first, she really wanted to get out of these wet clothes, maybe get a hot bath, and definitely have a glass of wine. She needed it.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Just got back from the clinic. Everything’s fine. All appointments for this week are cancelled. Stop worrying your pretty little head, Boston.
Audrey smiled at the text from Mason. She was wearing a fluffy white robe from the hotel, enjoying a late room-service dinner of antipasti and Chianti, and relaxing after a nice, warm bath. A little luxury after the past two days was just what she needed. In her tipsiness after consuming two glasses of wine, she read Mason’s text, imagining him saying the words in that sexy Southern drawl of his, and her body quivered.
Stop it, Audrey. Stay strong. She sighed, throwing herself back against the pillows on her bed.
Quickly, she typed in: Did you call Falco?
A moment later, he replied with: I did you one better. I went over and saw him. He’s putting the area on high alert about a possible case of rabies. He says not to worry.
She smiled. That was good. Thanks. Have you seen Concetta?
His response was: Yes. The doctor thinks the bite isn’t too serious but he’s started her with treatment.
Well, that was good. Mason, her knight in shining armor. Saving the day for her, again. This time, though, she resisted any impulse to gush and responded with a curt: Thank you.
When you coming back, Boston?
Hmm. Sure, he was wondering that. Without her there, he couldn’t get free medical advice for his Mastiff, Polpetto. Initially quite the reluctant dog owner, Mason usually had a question a day about his new pet.
She sent as short a reply as she could think of: Not sure yet.
Then, of course, he had to go and do the thing that would ensure he stayed on her mind for the rest of the night. He wrote: Miss you.
She stared at those words, her heart thrumming.
Then she quickly exited out of the message. Get a grip, Audrey. All his charming words weren’t going to work on her. She was determined not to let him worm his way under her skin again, no matter how adorable he was. Been there, done that. It still stung, just as much as it had the day she arrived on his doorstep to see he had “company.” I’m done with that. If being away from Mason has proven anything, it’s that we were just fine as we were. Friends. That’s all.
She picked up a bit of crusty Italian bread and dipped it in the oil from the salad, then tore off a bite. Savoring the taste of the fresh herbs, she looked at the television set. She kept it on at a low volume, just to keep her company, but it was tuned to some Italian soap opera. The moment she made the “Friends” determination in her head, the handsome male lead took the buxom brunette in his arms and kissed her passionately.
“Ugh,” Audrey mumbled as she watched them tearing at each other’s clothes. “Get a room.”
Audrey, do you really need a reminder that love often ends up going bad? Look at what happened to Dr. Mauro. His wife nearly flattened him with his own car!
Which reminded her . . . after what Amalia had said after she saw to her pet ferret, she couldn’t help but be intrigued about the ex–Mrs. Mauro.
She turned off the television and picked up her phone. Then she Googled “Mauro Lipari divorce.”
A number of results came back that had nothing to do with Dr. Mauro. She scrolled through each one until she came to Giacomo Alto, Esquire, Divorce Attorney, Lipari. She translated the website, and from what she could tell, he was the only divorce attorney on the island.
If I was a betting person, I’d wager he probably knows something about the case, she thought, clicking on the phone number and placing the call.
Because it was after hours, she expected to get a voicemail recording. So she was surprised when a voice said, “Alto.”
“Um . . . Mr. Alto?” She thought for sure she’d get a receptionist. But Lipari was a small island—how many divorces could they possibly have? “Is this Mr. Alto, the divorce attorney?”
“Si,” a confused voice said, and then there was a pause. “Ah. Let me guess. Is this the American veterinarian?”
Now it was Audrey’s turn to be confused. “Yes . . . how did you—”
“I figured you would be knocking on my door soon.”
“You did?”
“Look. I’m about ready to leave for the night. But if you can get here in the next five minutes, I’ll answer any questions you might have. My office is on via Lido, near the pier. Can’t miss it.”
Audrey sat up and looked at the clock. It was just after eight. She grabbed the towel off her head. “Yes. I can do that. Leaving right now,” she said.
“See you then.”
He hung up, and Audrey sprang into action. She tore off the robe and threw on some clothes, ran a brush haphazardly through her hair, and headed out the door in record time.
*
Audrey was still finger-combing knots out of her wet hair when arrived at the office building on via Lido, across from the pier. Nick scampered along behind her, curious because the last ti
me she left him, she told him she was going in for the night. The building was a charming one, with bulbs made to look like candles flickering in the windows, and bright red shutters a contrast to the white stucco walls. An oval-shaped shingle sign hung from the door that said, Giacomo Alto, Avvocato in stately gold script. Though the place faced the harsh wind coming off the sea, it suffered from none of the neglect that Mauro’s office had—the windows were clean, the front welcome mat was free of debris, and when Audrey went inside, the air smelled of fresh paint and pine-scented cleaner.
“Stay here, bub,” she warned Nick, though he was already holding back, dutiful as ever.
Inside, the waiting room was spacious and well-appointed, with rich leather chairs, thick red carpeting, and painting depicting various seaside scenes. As she stepped into the empty room, a door in the back opened, and a bald man with dark, bushy eyebrows poked his head out. “Ah. Dottore Smart. Come this way.”
She followed him into an office with several diplomas and photographs of the man with a yacht, or standing near an impressively large fish. The man was clearly a lover of the sea, judging from those and all the nautical décor. She sat down in one of two chairs next to a coffee table made from an old ship’s wheel. “Sorry to bother you so late.”
“No bother at all. I knew you were coming. I—” He stopped and peered at her, just underneath her chin. He pointed to his chest. “You missed . . .”
She looked down and realized she’d skipped a button and misaligned the buttons on her shirt. As she was buttoning, she realized she’d also forgotten to zip the fly on her shorts. She discretely pulled it up. “And how did you know that?”
“Well, after that row you had with my client.”
Audrey stiffened. Did everyone know about that? “What do you mean?”
“Well, come now, in a town such as this, there are no secrets. When I learned of the doctor’s death, I assumed they’d probably target you as the murderer.” He leaned back in his chair and laced his hands together. “What surprises me is that the police haven’t come to me yet.”
“They haven’t?”
“No. But everyone thinks you’re the killer.”
Audrey shifted uncomfortably on the leather chair so that it made a peculiar farting noise. “And what makes them think that? Just because I had an argument with him?”
“That, and because you’re a stranger. We haven’t had a murder in Lipari in decades, and then you show up, start arguing with a man, and suddenly, he’s dead? It doesn’t look good.”
Yes, it doesn’t, all admit that. But that’s just my bad luck.
“Maybe. But from what I hear, Mrs. Mauro had quite a few of those with her husband, too. They were in the middle of a divorce, yes?”
“That’s why I figured you’d be here, to ask me that.” He smiled. “But unfortunately, I’m not at liberty to disclose the particulars of the case my client had pending.”
Then why have me come all the way here? Something tells me that’s just a formality. There’s something he wants to tell me. I just need to ask the right questions.
“Even if the possibility exists that his wife could’ve murdered him?”
He shook his head. “Sorry. It’s really impossible for me to say.”
“But he’s dead. Doesn’t that change things? Technically, he’s not your client anymore.”
He nodded and leaned forward conspiratorially. “Well . . . between you and me, Doctor, I will let you know that divorce papers had been served to him. Not once. Not twice. Numerous times. If you understand what I mean.”
Her eyes narrowed. “He didn’t sign them? Why not?”
He pressed his lips together. Then he said, “That, I can’t help you with.”
She pushed away from his desk and stood up, thinking. If he was refusing to sign divorce papers, that could definitely be a reason for Mrs. Mauro to commit murder. I need to talk to her. “She still lives here, doesn’t she? In their big white house on the hill?”
He nodded. “From what I can gather.”
“What is her name?”
He stood up to escort her to the door. “Loretta Mauro. But again, you did not hear it from me, but the woman is absolutely crazy. No wonder she drove my client insane, so that he could barely function. She kept beating on him and beating on him until he lost his mind. But he was just a silly man, refusing to put the woman out of his life, insisting that they could patch things up. Poor man.”
Outside, a cool mist was filtering in from the sea, blanketing everything in an eerie haze. Audrey looked back at him in the dim candlelight as he showed her to the door. “From what you’re saying, it sounds like you think she’s guilty?”
He shrugged. “If you’d done it, you wouldn’t have come to me. You’d probably have left the island by now. And so if it’s not her, who else would it be? The person who’d commit cold-blooded murder like that would have to be crazy, and she fits the bill. Not to mention that she had a motive.”
Audrey nodded. That was exactly what she was thinking. “Thank you. I really appreciate your time.”
He waved goodbye to her and went back in, leaving her alone near the pier in a rapidly descending fog. In the streetlights, the mist looked like ghostly fingers, reaching down to grab ahold of her. Shivering, she looked around the empty streets. Luckily, just then, Nick poked his head out from the buildings and stood on the sidewalk, waiting to escort her back to the hotel.
She smiled. “You’re not afraid of anything, are you, big guy?”
He simply scampered ahead. Behind her, she heard the creak of a gate, an eerie, echoing sound, and picked up her pace. She couldn’t wait to be back in her room.
Tomorrow, she’d visit that big white house on a hill, and try to speak with Dr. Mauro’s crazy wife.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Early the next morning, Audrey poured herself a terrible cup of coffee from the in-room coffee service and hurried downstairs, looking at her phone’s GPS and trying to determine where via Oliva was. When she located it, she headed out, walking away from the pier, up the hill, barely paying any attention to Nick, trailing at her heels.
Suddenly, a loud beep startled her. She lifted her nose from her phone just as she tripped over a crack in the sidewalk and nearly face-planted on the ground. She caught herself, but not before her coffee went flying and her knee hit the crumbling pavement.
“Whoa! Are you okay?” a voice said. It was Vito. He’d stopped the car in the middle of the narrow road and was rushing toward her, trying to help her up.
She rolled until she was sitting and looked at her bloody knee. Her coffee cup rolled off into the gutter, spilling its contents as it went.
“Fine,” she muttered, annoyed, as she retrieved her phone. At least that wasn’t broken. Nick crawled onto her lap, attempting to lick her wound, but she nudged him away. “You scared me.”
“Sorry. Geez,” he said, wincing as he looked at her knee. “Hold on.”
He about-faced to head toward his car, probably to get the medical kit. But as he did, a car came up behind his and beeped. “Don’t worry about it,” she called to him. “I’ll meet you at the shelter later.”
Vito got into his car and moved ahead, finding a place to pull to the curb to allow the other vehicle to pass. Then, seconds later, he was right by her side again. She’d found a crumpled napkin, rather than opening her own medical kit, because the wound wasn’t all that bad. But Vito came toward her as if she’d been seriously injured. “Let me see.”
“It’s fine, it’s—”
“What happened to your face?” he asked, gazing at her in horror.
She felt the scratch on her cheek. It wasn’t all that bad, really. “Nothing, just a rescue attempt gone bad last night.”
He poured some antiseptic onto a cotton ball and said, “You went without me? You should’ve called—”
“Vito, I’m fine by myself,” she said, wincing from the sting of the antiseptic as he swabbed her knee. He was a heavy hand, so
she took it from him and applied it on her own. “Besides—”
“Yeah, but I could’ve helped you.”
She fell silent. How fine was she by herself? She hadn’t gotten anything but that scratch. Maybe she really did need his help. She took the bandage he offered and adhered it to the cut, then got to her feet.
“Can I give you a ride to the shelter?” he asked as she grabbed the paper cup from the gutter and tossed it in a garbage can with the rest of the waste.
“Oh, no, actually, I’m going—”
“You’re not going to the shelter?” He smirked. “Wait, are you still looking into Mauro’s murder?”
She sighed. She knew that devilish look in his eye. He wanted to help. And get himself in more trouble. And that was the last thing Sabina needed. “No,” she lied. “I’m just—”
“Yeah, you are!” he said smugly. “I can tell. Anyone ever tell you, you’re a horrible liar, Dr. Smart? Where are you going? Have you learned anything new?”
She rolled her eyes to the sky. The boy clearly wasn’t giving up. Besides, maybe he could help her. “Okay. Yes. I learned that Dr. Mauro’s wife had served him with divorce papers several times, but he refused to sign. Did you know that?”
Vito nodded. “Yeah. The whole town knew that. Loretta Mauro’s kind of crazy. She lives like some Hollywood recluse up in that old mansion. Anytime you see her, she’s wearing these dark, movie-star glasses. But really, I haven’t seen her in months. The last time I saw her, she almost killed Dr. Mauro with her car. Before that, she was feeding his clothes to the fishes at the end of the pier. She’s a real piece of work, that one.”
“So do you think she could’ve, maybe—”
“Maybe. Anything’s possible. I doubt she’ll answer if you just go up and ring the doorbell.” He motioned to his car. “But come on. I’ll give you a ride.”
She hesitated on the sidewalk. “No. You go back to the shelter. I’m sure Sabina will—”
“Trust me. You’ll want a ride. The place is on the edge of a cliff. You won’t want to climb there.”
