Tall, Dark and Italian. Carol Marinelli
‘But I can assure you that we are not a totally godless society. As with everything, the truth lies somewhere in between.’
Lucia snorted. ‘You would say that, naturalmente.’
‘Yes, I would.’ Tess gained a little confidence from the fact that the woman didn’t immediately contradict her. ‘We are not heathens, signora. And how honest is it for a woman to marry one man and have an affair with another? Is that considered acceptable in Italy?’
A faint trace of colour entered Lucia’s cheeks at her words. ‘You have been speaking to Rafe, have you not?’ she demanded harshly, shocking Tess by the vehemence of her tone. ‘Of course you have. That is why he is so—so sensibile to your feelings. He sees in you a justification for his own actions.’
‘No!’ Tess was horrified. She’d spoken impulsively, never thinking that Castelli’s mother might associate her words with her son’s divorce. ‘I mean, yes, I’ve spoken to your son, signora. You know that. He thought I might know where Ashley was.’
‘But you do not?’
‘No.’ Tess was polite, but firm.
‘Did my son tell you that he has spoken with his daughter, also?’ Lucia continued. ‘Maria is married and lives in Viali, some distance from here.’
The query seemed innocent enough at face value, but Tess was wary. Was it possible that Lucia di Castelli knew she had accompanied her son the day before? Had he told her? Had Maria? And if not, how was she supposed to answer that?
‘He—I—yes, I knew,’ she mumbled at last, unwilling to venture further. Besides, why shouldn’t Castelli have mentioned that she’d gone to Viali with him? With certain abstentions in his narrative, of course.
She took a deep breath and then was relieved when a young couple came into the gallery. They were obviously holiday-makers and she doubted they intended to buy anything. But her visitor didn’t know that.
‘Was there a reason for your visit, signora?’ she asked, indicating the newcomers. ‘Because if not, I have customers. If you hoped I might have any more information than I’ve given your son, then I’m afraid I must disappoint you.’
Lucia’s lips tightened. ‘I think you know more than you are saying, Miss Daniels. Unlike my son, I am not beguiled by a sympathetic manner and a pretty face!’
Tess was taken aback by her rudeness and she glanced awkwardly about her wondering if their exchange could be heard by anyone else. But to her relief the young couple had moved to the farthest side of the gallery and she thought it was unlikely that they’d noticed anything amiss.
‘I think you’d better go, signora,’ she said in a low voice, refusing to humour her any longer. ‘I’m working and I’m sure you have better things to do than stand here wasting my time. I’m sorry about your grandson, I really am. But there’s nothing I can do about it. Ashley didn’t confide in me before she took off.’
Lucia’s nostrils flared, and for a moment Tess expected another rebuke. But then, amazingly, the woman’s haughty arrogance crumbled, and with a gesture of defeat she pulled a handkerchief out of her purse.
Tess didn’t know which was worse, having Castelli’s mother berating her as an accomplice or breaking down in front of her. Tears were streaming down the woman’s face now and she was obviously distressed. Any moment Tess’s customers were going to notice and, despite herself, she couldn’t allow that to happen.
With a feeling of resignation, she took Lucia by the arm and led her back into the office. Then, after seating her at Ashley’s desk, she indicated the small bathroom. ‘You can rest here,’ she said. ‘Come out when you’re feeling better. No one will disturb you. I’ll see to that.’
As she’d suspected, the young couple had no intention of buying anything, and she had to acknowledge that Signor Scottolino had a point. Since she’d been looking after the gallery, she’d sold a grand total of three paintings, which was clearly not enough profit to pay the bills.
It was another fifteen minutes before she remembered her sandwich. She’d put it down as she was talking to Signora di Castelli and now she saw it wilting in the noonday heat. She would have liked to have gone into the office and made herself some fresh coffee. Signora di Castelli might even like one. Although, remembering her son’s reaction when he’d tried the filtered brew, she couldn’t guarantee it.
However, she’d told the woman she wouldn’t be disturbed and she kept her promises. It was obviously going to take a little time for Lucia to compose herself again. Until then, Tess contented herself with straightening the pictures, picking up a leaf that had blown through the open doorway, and adjusting the blinds to limit the sunlight.
After half an hour had gone by, however, she was beginning to get anxious. All sorts of thoughts ran through her head, not least the worry that Lucia might do something desperate in her grief. Which was silly, she knew. The situation was not that serious. They might not know exactly where Marco was, but if he was with Ashley, he could hardly come to any harm.
Or could he? Tess supposed it depended what your interpretation of harm was. As far as Lucia was concerned, Ashley was little better than a baby-snatcher. The fact that Marco sounded like a precocious teenager seemed to mean nothing to her.
At the end of forty-five minutes, Tess was desperate. All right, she’d promised not to disturb the woman, but that was ages ago now. Squaring her shoulders, she picked up her sandwich and went to the half-open door of the office. ‘Signora di Castelli,’ she said, pushing it wider. ‘Are you feeling better?’
She needn’t have bothered with the softly-softly approach. The office was empty. While she’d been fretting in the gallery, Lucia must have let herself out of the back exit. So much for Tess worrying about her. She had evidently dried her eyes and made herself scarce.
Tess didn’t know whether she felt relieved or resentful. She was glad the woman had gone, of course, but she might have asked her permission to use the back door. As it was, it was standing ajar and Tess went to close it. It would have been all the same if she’d had valuable paintings on the premises. With the alarm turned off, a thief could have had a field-day.
A check of her bag assured her that there’d been no intruders in her absence. Her passport was still there and the several hundred Euros she’d brought for the trip. She frowned suddenly. She could have sworn her passport had been in the side pocket of her backpack as it had been when Castelli had asked to see it. But now it resided in the main compartment alongside her wallet-purse.
She shrugged. She must have made a mistake when she’d put it away. She hadn’t needed it for the last couple of days so she couldn’t be absolutely sure which compartment she’d put it in. Castelli had got her so flustered, she might have put it anywhere. In any case, so long as she had it, that was the important thing.
She spent a couple of minutes emptying the coffee-pot and refilling the reservoir. Then, after putting several spoonfuls of ready-ground coffee into the filter, she sat down at the desk to have her sandwich.
It wasn’t very appetising. Having waited for almost an hour, it was definitely dry. Thankfully it was cheese. She was afraid any meat would have proved inedible. Even so, if she hadn’t been so hungry, she might have put it into the bin.
As she drank her coffee she idly opened the drawers of the desk. She was not really looking for anything, but she was still conscious of the doubts she’d had before. Once again, she was fairly sure nothing was missing, and as she’d riffled through the drawers herself days ago, looking for any clues to Ashley’s whereabouts, she wasn’t really surprised when she found nothing useful now.
The niggling doubts remained, though, and she wondered if Lucia di Castelli had searched the office before she’d left. It would explain the discrepancy about her passport. And perhaps explain the reason why she’d left without saying goodbye. Though, remembering Castelli’s mother, Tess doubted whether she’d care if she offended her. Until her emotions