Surviving Venice

by Anna E Bendewald

  “Sì.”

  Giancarlo approached Gina. “I saw you at the flower shop.” He had a heavy Sicilian accent and smelled wonderful—she could smell him over the garlic—like nutmeg, bergamot, cardamom, and something mouthwatering…perhaps papaya? She wanted to lean into him.

  “Gina.” She liked him instantly.

  His almost-black eyes dropped to the bowl in Gina’s lap, then Juliette said, “Giancarlo, I believe Salvio ordered you to kill my husband.”

  He turned his attention back to the contessa. “Salvio made a demand, but I don’t take orders.”

  Next through the door came Vincenzo, Leonardo, and the pope.

  Giancarlo didn’t look surprised. “Gentlemen, we have to stop meeting like this.”

  Vincenzo grinned at the Sicilian, Leonardo looked captivated by him, and the pope came forward to clap the Mafioso on the back. Gina wondered why the pope looked grateful to see him. A Vatican security officer and Vincenzo’s bodyguard finished their sweep of the room and stepped back out into the hall.

  Raphielli broke in by clearing her throat. “Now that we’re all together…” She proceeded to tell the group everything that had happened in the doctor’s office. She finished her recitation by saying she’d witnessed Doctor G inject an unidentified substance into the port in Gina’s arm.

  “Then cool as a cucumber, he held up his empty hands like a magician’s trick. It looked like the performance of a man who’s never been caught and felt invincible, even as Gina yelled at him.”

  “You say he assumed you were carrying Salvio’s child?” the pope asked Raphielli.

  “Absolutely, and he said Salvio’s name with…reverence, is the best way to describe it.”

  Giancarlo squinted at Raphielli. “And he gave you a shot?”

  “Sì.”

  Then the pope and Giancarlo turned their eyes to her. “Gina, he believed your child was Vincenzo’s?”

  “Sì.”

  “But you both got the injection?”

  Gina said, “Sì, but Raphielli’s was administered by a nurse in her hip, while Doctor G snuck in and slipped something into my vein, then performed a sleight of hand while lying about it. Vitamins aren’t pumped into veins, drugs are.”

  Alphonso turned to Juliette. “Tell us about Doctor G.”

  She stood up and began to pace. “He’s the best OB-GYN in Venice. He’s been my rock through miscarriages, a stillbirth, and he succeeded in saving Vincenzo.”

  “You couldn’t have more children?” Raphielli asked.

  “Doctor G said neither the child nor I would stand a chance, and I would be committing suicide…the ultimate sin…” her voice became small, uncertain. “He made me promise never to get pregnant again. So Gabrieli and I were very careful. You don’t suppose that he…” she sat down abruptly, clamping her hand over her mouth.

  The room fell silent until out of the quiet came the barely perceptible squeak of wheels and the butler and maid appeared with carts stacked high with stylish trays of sandwiches, hors d’oeuvres surrounded by boughs of holly, and edible decorations.

  Raphielli got to her feet. “Goodness! The cook did this?”

  Juliette cleared her throat and then said. “No, I texted Ippy, who called Marilynn Bergoni. She sent over some food from a party she was catering nearby.”

  Gina looked down at her lap full of garlic peels. “I’m going to have to keep eating these, but I could use a whole lot more mint tea and a washcloth for my hands, per favore.” The fresh cloves were sticky, but that meant they had more of the allicin enzyme, which could eradicate practically anything from her system at this concentration.

  “Gina needs to eat something besides garlic.” Giancarlo placed his handkerchief into her hand, and Primo sprang into action. Within moments she had a plate piled with delicacies, and he’d thoughtfully spread a napkin across her lap.

  Vincenzo flipped up the edge of her skirt. “Gina! Your poor knees!”

  “They’re just scraped,” she shrugged.

  He rocked back away from her. “I’m so used to your smell, and now you smell like a delicatessen.”

  “Sì, I smell like a salami, but my family has used whopping doses of this nightshade as an antidote to everything imaginable—even the plague.”

  Vincenzo looked impressed. “Seriously?”

  “It’s miraculous,” she assured him.

  Leonardo reached into her bowl and began peeling another clove for her. “Then mangia, mangia!” He pulled back, “Woo! You do smell like a salami.”

  “Eh, this salami is the mother of our child.” Vincenzo squeezed her shoulder. “As long as garlic won’t hurt the baby, I say eat as much as you think you need. But Doctor G isn’t stupid. I don’t think he’d terminate your pregnancy the moment he laid eyes on you. He must have bided his time with my mother or she’d have suspected something.” He glanced at Juliette and her brows drew together in consternation, but she said nothing.

  Gina popped the garlic in her mouth and chewed the fiery bud, but her tongue had gone numb. Giancarlo turned from handing a full plate to Raphielli and said, “He pulled a pretty desperate act squeezing into the nurse’s lab and plunging a chemical into Gina’s arm when four people could have seen him.”

  The pope said, “Raphielli did see him.”

  Leonardo went to investigate the sideboard where Dante and the maid were placing more trays of anti-pasti and desserts. “Isn’t there a doctor we can trust to test them and find out what they’ve been given?”

  Alphonso said, “You’ve been watching too many medical dramas. We don’t know who to trust, and I don’t want anyone doing any tests on Raphielli.”

  Gina watched Giancarlo and Primo exchange looks.

  The pope said, “I agree. The girls have been targeted, but now we will keep them close and protect them.”

  Alphonso picked up the thread of conversation. “Assuming that Doctor G is in the habit of terminating babies without Juliette’s knowledge, why would anyone—other than Salvio for jealous reasons—want to kill the Veronas? How does it benefit a respected doctor?”

  The pope said, “Anyone wishing to undermine me and the Catholic Church.”

  Petrosino said, “Oh, so someone understands your…” He waved vaguely between the pope and Vincenzo. “Alliance.”

  Gina watched eyes communicating silently around the room at the depth of the Mafia don’s familiarity with the family, then mouths dropped open when he looked at Vincenzo and said, “Does he know about your preference?”

  Vincenzo stared at him, but the don waved the subject away and looked at the pope. “What about the Alithiní?”

  The Holy Father came alive and said, “Apparently Salvio’s forefathers founded the Alithinían Church. Are you thinking maybe the doctor is a member?”

  “It makes sense,” Zelph said.

  “Then it would be a terrible way to learn the truth,” the pope said. “But if nothing happens to Raphielli’s baby and Gina’s is adversely affected from whatever he injected, we’ll know it’s a conspiracy against the Veronas.”

  “The doctor didn’t kill Juliette. Is it just male Veronas?” Zelph asked.

  “No, female Veronas are particularly powerful,” Vincenzo said. “But mother isn’t a Verona, she’s a Clairvaux. No reason to kill her.”

  “And what are the Verona’s powers?” Giancarlo asked.

  Vincenzo looked the Mafioso in the eye. “We love.”

  “They love,” the pope and Leonardo echoed at the same time.

  “Ah, well that’s good,” Giancarlo said with admiration and a look of relief.

  “What should I say to Doctor G?” Juliette held up her phone and asked. “He has called Ippy twice asking why the girls left during their appointment. He wants to see them again tomorrow.”

  “Don’t tip your hand,” Alphonso said. “He’ll cover his tracks and we won’t be able to nail him.”

  The pope said, “Tell him the girls were just excited, that everything is fine.�
�

  Juliette nodded and texted Ippy to that effect.

  Giancarlo said, “I suggest you keep the appointment, and we can send a young man with you. Say he’s one of your distant relatives, contessa, and the father of Gina’s child. Someone on your side of the family, and while you want to raise it as a Verona, it’s not a Verona by blood.”

  Gina liked how practical the Mafia don was, and asked, “Who could we trust?”

  Vincenzo was looking at Primo. “Would you do it?”

  “Sure, he’ll be good,” Giancarlo said. “He can act as bodyguard while Alphonso checks the place out.”

  “I’m going?” Alphonso asked hopefully.

  The Mafioso turned his back as he selected a plate of food from the table. “You’ll present yourself as the father of Raphielli’s child and find a way to search the place. You are a private detective, after all.”

  Juliette’s phone pinged, and she said, “We’ve got an appointment tomorrow morning. He squeezed us in before his first patients.”

  The pope moaned, “I am relieved Giselle is in hiding.”

  “Hey, that’s right,” Zelph said. “If she’s not carrying a Verona, can’t it be leaked she’s carrying Markus’ baby? To keep her safe.”

  “I will not ask how you know that,” the Pope snapped. “Not yet.” He glanced meaningfully at Vincenzo.

  Zelph waved a hand to encompass the room. “Hey, I’m part of the club, too. I know things.” But when he looked at Giancarlo, he dropped his eyes. “Just a few things.”

  The pope said, “Sì, Giselle has her Group Français helping her. Now we have formed il Comitato di Venezia to end this war.”

  “Speaking of our committee, where’s Ivar?” Raphielli asked.

  Juliette wrinkled her nose at the coffee she’d just sipped. “Running Verdu Mer business while I took the day off to focus on you two. Raphielli, I must send you some Passero’s beans. This coffee is no good.” She tapped out a text, no doubt to Ippy.

  Everyone got down to the business of eating, and Raphielli said, “On a different subject, Holy father, I need your help with Cardinal Negrali. He’s holding up the permits for my new shelter…”

  Alphonso broke in. “He’s extorting her and strong-arming her to get control of her estate.”

  Gina saw Giancarlo’s face darken, and then a quick glance at Zelph’s face told her she wasn’t the only one who saw it. What a group we make she thought. Vincenzo, Leonardo, Juliette, and the pope were focused on her, while Alphonso and the Petrosinos focused on Raphielli. Zelph was watching Giancarlo like his life depended on it.

  The pope was saying, “Raphielli, I will free up your permits. And as for Negrali trying to get control of you, send a note saying he is no longer needed, you will have regular prayer sessions with me.”

  Hearing about cardinals extorting money, Gina felt it was important to add a bit of information. “Holy Father, at the Vatican I heard a cardinal say he was getting Raphielli’s estate. He said it to a cardinal named Marconi.”

  “Marconi?” The pope’s eyes went wide.

  “Uh-huh. He also said that when he was pope, he’d deliver Germany to this Marconi.”

  Vincenzo choked on his food. “Dio mio!”

  “Would you recognize him?” the pope asked.

  Vincenzo grabbed his phone and scrolled to a photo. “Was it either of these men?”

  Gina took a look. “The older one with the big cross said it.”

  “Negrali,” the pope and Vincenzo said together.

  Gina continued. “I’d like to know more about the intense man at the Vatican. I can’t recall his name, but now he gave me the worst feeling.”

  “An intense man?” the pope asked.

  “Sì, he wears grey suits and his tie tack has broken arrows.”

  “Could it have been the Swiss Guard’s two keys crossed on a shield?”

  “No. It’s a bird clutching the arrows.”

  “Must be Hierotymis Karno, Ecclesia Dei,” the pope said.

  Gina confirmed, “That’s him, Karno.”

  “The symbol is a crow clutching lightning bolts. He’s a member of a secret intelligence order.”

  Gina continued, “He started taking a creepy interest in me when he heard I was with the Veronas. He might have seen the three of us go into a room together.” She gestured to the boys.

  “We-we were oh-oh-only praying,” Leo stammered in such a guilty way Gina was certain everyone in the room figured out what they’d been doing. “But Karno couldn’t know that,” he finished lamely.

  Everyone’s eyes widened and Raphielli looked away embarrassed while Giancarlo and his son quirked their brows at Gina in interest.

  Giancarlo said, “Sounds like having Primo step up as the father of Gina’s baby needs to happen sooner rather than later if the criminal element in the Vatican could be conspiring to bring down the Veronas and the Pope.”

  “Apparently Vatican intrigue isn’t just for the history books,” Zelph said. “But I’m not gonna stand by while innocent women and children are poisoned.”

  Leonardo asked, “How can we find out if Doctor G is Alithinían?”

  “I could ask a resident of mine,” Raphielli said. “She’s Alithinían.”

  “What?” The pope slammed his hands onto his armrests, heaving himself up until he was hovering over his seat awkwardly. “I must see her!” he thundered.

  Everyone froze.

  Gina sensed that the atmosphere had become dangerous. “What’s that?”

  “It’s a secretive religion,” Raphielli said firmly. “They’ve been hunted by Catholics, she’d never speak to you.”

  “God will open her mouth. I must see her!” he ordered.

  Juliette jumped to her feet. “Oh Raphielli! Call her, at least ask her about Doctor G!”

  Everyone watched as Raphielli produced her phone and called the shelter. “Ciao, Kate. I need to speak to…” She looked around the room and then shrugged. “Benny.”

  Primo muttered, “Benedetta? The missing girl?” and shot his father a worried look.

  Raphielli said, “Ah, sì, Benny. I was looking into doctors for your baby. What do you think of Doctor Gugliemoni?” The look on Raphielli’s face conveyed the hysteria on the other end of the call.

  “Okay, no, I won’t. Don’t worry. I promise. Forget I mentioned that name. Okay, ciao.” She hung up and said, “She’s worshipped with him. He’s Alithinían and would take her child to be raised by them.”

  “It’s a cult,” Primo said.

  “It is not a cult,” the pope corrected.

  Just then a woman came into the room saying, “I finally gave up on you guys. If you wanted to have a party and not invite me, you just had to say so…holyshih-hih-hih! Pope!” The last word sounded like a cork coming out of a bottle. The redhead stood frozen before the pope, hands covering her mouth. She was wearing a sweat suit with the words Porto delle Donne over her left breast and down one leg.

  “Paloma, I’m so sorry!” Raphielli cried. “We forgot to come get you.”

  “Oh-mih-gawd-oh-mih-gawd-oh-mih-gawd” the shivering woman repeated under her breath as she stared at the pope. “Excuse the life outta me! Oh my God, sorry, sorry…” She swayed where she stood.

  Raphielli said, “Paloma, please forgive us. This wasn’t planned. A last-minute situation arose.”

  “Hey, it’s cool.”

  Gina could tell the woman was looking at the decorated party platters and not sure whether to believe Raphielli’s story. Paloma shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, arms going out to steady herself, and said something that sounded like, “Whew, super embarrassing” under her breath.

  Gina suddenly felt sick and set her empty garlic basket aside. “I’m not feeling well.”

  Eyes regarded her with alarm and she tried to reassure them. “Nothing specific, just clammy. Maybe I’m not close enough to the fire. And my knees are throbbing, and my best skirt is ruined…” She suddenly felt on the verge of tears. “Exc
use me, per favore. I think I’ll go home.”

  Vincenzo helped her up. “I’d feel better if you came to stay at our place, Gina. I’ll give you some of Giselle’s clothes.”

  Despite her fear that perhaps it wasn’t just nausea from the whopping ton of garlic she’d forced down, but that she was suffering the ill effects of Doctor G’s poison, she actually got excited at the prospect of wearing Giselle’s fabulous designer clothes.

  As Vincenzo, Leo, and Juliette followed Gina to the door, the pope began again, “Raphielli, you must take me to see this Benny.”

  “Sua Santità, let’s do it another time. She isn’t going anywhere. Per favore.”

  He said, “Then I am going to Rome to start getting Cardinal Negrali under control,” and hurried after them.

  This time Gina didn’t feel nervous traveling the dark halls, because the pope was so incandescent with righteous rage he practically lit the way.

  Hiero was facedown and hovering in a state of bliss when his phone blipped. He retrieved it from the nearby table and waved off the masseuse as he propped himself on an elbow to answer.

  “Pronto.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Getting a massage.”

  “Where? Are you close?”

  “Baan Thai on Borgo Angelico. What’s up?”

  “Hard to tell. Americo Negrali is camped outside your office door and the helipad crew is expecting His Holiness at any moment.”

  “I’ll be right there, say ten minutes.” He rolled to a sitting position and the masseuse began wiping oil off him using hot towels.

  Once in the Vatican offices, Hiero could feel an air of urgency, so he went straight to his favorite font of information, Clovis, at the concierge’s desk. The horsefaced little man was so enamored of power, he lived to gossip with the head of Ecclesia Dei.

  “Buonasera, Clovis,” Hiero said warmly.

  “Are you back to meet with His Holiness?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “You know, because he’s really mad.”

  “You astound me,” Hiero said and leaned over for their usual conspiratorial chat.

  Clovis leaned in, smelling of contraband cigarettes. “No one’s talking about it, of course, but apparently His Holiness could be clearly heard yelling that he’d uncovered a plot to oust or kill him…over his pilot’s microphone…you know…in the background when they were communicating their coordinates to land.”