An Apartment in Venice (17 page)

Chuck leaned over to kiss her lightly and fastened her seatbelt.

“Okay already. Enough fussing,” she said. “I’m fine. Tell me how your interrogation went?”

“About as I expected.” He began winding his way out of city center. “The AFOSI guys were suspicious about how it all came down. Why was—”

“AFOSI?” Giulia interrupted.

“Air Force Office of Special Investigation.”

“Of course. Another alphabet moniker. Sorry, you were saying?”

“They asked why Ryland was there. Why was Marlowe taking pictures? Marlowe was easily finessed. The four of us were planning an evening together, and I honestly had no idea she’d have one of those new camera phones. Damn. I need one of those.”

Giulia laughed. “Does Marc have one?”

“No doubt. He always has the latest.”

They were quiet while Chuck maneuvered past a tricky intersection onto the road toward Vittorio Veneto.

“How did you finesse Ryland?”

“I said I’d been waiting for you and he happened along. The truth was he
had
planned to pick up brochures and school schedules from Ogle for a comrade and family arriving soon. I saw no need to mention I’d asked him to stop by at that exact time.”

“I’m curious. Did you expect so much resistance from Ogle that you’d need another man there?”

“Him?” Chuck took his eyes from the road for a moment and gave her a look that said you’ve got to be kidding. “I was worried my anger might get out of control and thought it’d be best for Ryland to do most of the taking down.”

“Do officers usually carry those plastic handcuffs around on the base?”

“Jeez! You ask tough ones. You could have been one of the men leaning on me this morning. But I’d worried about that too and e-mailed him last night to get in touch with me ASAP. He called this morning. It happened that Ryland had been demonstrating the proper use of plastic flexi-cuffs to a couple of new MPs on the post. The cuffs were still in his pocket. We lucked out on that. But…” He shook his head back and forth.

“What?”

“It shows me that our little operation wasn’t so well planned after all. We were more interested in catching Ogle than how to explain ourselves later.”

“Did they question your use of the listening device?”

“Not at all. I’d already told them you and other women were nervous about entering his office alone so when I knew you were going in, I wanted to be damned sure I could hear what went on. I said, ‘What if she hadn’t been able to scream?’ So far nothing has come up about the door. I need to get it back into proper operation.”

“Hmm.” Giulia said, “Even if Ogle thinks the lock had been tampered with, what can he say? He’d have to admit he locks women in.”

“Good point. But I’ll make sure Enrico puts it in working order when he gets to the spring-loaded door he jimmied for me. He’ll take his sweet time, though, it seems he hates Ogle’s guts.”

“Do you suppose anyone likes the guy. Poor man.”

“After what he did to you? Don’t waste any pity on that predator.”

They didn’t speak of the incident any more. Shortly before they took the exit into Vittorio Veneto, Giulia said, “Even though my grandparents know I’ve moved into your place—temporarily—I’m sure they’ll want us separated when it comes to sleeping under
their
roof. At least Nonna will.”

“I understand.” And as he slowed into the exit, he said, “And Giulia?”

“Yes?”

He looked directly at her as he stopped at a light. “I do get that your stay with me is temporary.”

“Okay,” she said, tipping her head down to study her feet.

To their surprise, Nonna led them both to the large bedroom where Chuck had slept before. When she left, they looked at each other. Giulia raised her shoulders and hands in surrender. Chuck just smiled.

The weekend was pleasant; exactly what they both needed. Nonno Tony knew the location of Giulia’s new place and claimed it to be not only an elegant area but safe for his precious granddaughter.

“You’ll be surrounded by churches, coccolona, if that ever made anybody safe,” he grumbled.

“Now Tony,” Maria Grazia said.

“Your rio is named for the Archangel Raffaele and his church sits beside the water. Are you across from it?”

“Yes.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. “So. San Sebastiano lies behind Raffaele, and the ancient church of San Nicolò is down to the right of your apartment, and on your left, toward Campo Santa Margherita, is
Chiesa dei Carmini,
Church of the Carmelites.”

“You really know Venice,” she said.

He grinned. “Sometimes I feel almost Venetian. I spent a lot of time there as a young turk on the prowl. You might be able to look out your window and see that nice sculpture above the church’s front door.”

“Yes, I can. It’s rather sweet. The Archangel Raffaele bends toward the little boy, Tobiolo, whose dog holds that big fish in his mouth. It’s a fascinating story from ancient scriptures. The apocrypha, I think.”

“Lots more interesting than most tales churches like to preach,” Tony muttered.

“I had no idea you knew that much about the famous Hebrew story,” Giulia said. “Some claim Tobiolo and Raffaele were around before the Hebrews came on the scene.”

Chuck looked at her with a question wrinkling his brow as if amazed at her knowledge of old religious stories. She merely shrugged.

“Is your loom working right, Nonna?” Chuck asked, hoping she wouldn’t mind him calling her grandmother.

“Oh my yes. After you put it back together, it works beautifully. Come, Giulia, I’ll show you a couple of new scarves I’ve designed.”

As the women left, Chuck said, “Tony, your home looks as good as new. And so do you. Now tell me what you’ve been up to.”

Tony seemed somewhat subdued but mentioned he still attended estate sales to find good buys for the twins’ import business in Portland. He confessed he had no more plans to break into big-time gem operations.

“By the way, I picked up interesting news about that shyster Botteri. He got into big trouble.”

“What happened?” Chuck asked, leaning forward.

“Don’t have details, but the rumor is the Carabinieri’s Vice Squad was trailing him. About the time they swooped in, someone took a shot at Botteri. It seems he’s been taken into a hospital at an unknown location. Heard they caught a few of his followers, too.”

“Maybe they’ll try to extract information about bigger connections,” Chuck said, “but it’s good news for both you and Giulia.”

“What’s good news?” Giulia asked as she and Nonna came back into the dining room.

Nonno Tony told the story again.

“Stupendo!”
Nonna said and went to the cupboard to get aperitif glasses for a toast. Afterward, they enjoyed white bean and kale soup laced with plenty of garlic, topped with shaved Parmigiano Reggiano cheese and accompanied by hot bread and salad.

On Sunday morning, they all took a long hike, returning to a huge brunch Maria Grazia had organized. After stuffing themselves, Chuck and Giulia left for the drive back to Venice.

“Maybe I was wrong about the man I saw Friday afternoon. Why would he trail me if his boss was being held by the police?”

“Good question. Maybe he hadn’t been called off? How sure are you?”

“I felt positive at the time, but it was more a feeling about the way he walked than a clear certainty.”

Chuck parked his car in the parking garage at Piazzale Roma. “Shall we catch a vaporetto down to Rialto?” he asked.

“Let’s walk. Do you mind carrying your duffel that far? I can pull my small carry-on.”

He hoisted his bag onto his shoulder. “After all Nonna’s food, walking sounds perfect.”

* * *

As Giulia was organizing her notes for class, she had to admit the notes saved from the shower stall proved worthless. To her, that was one more clue it had been Oliver. He would have known those papers were important to her. Thugs would have ignored them.

Chuck had gone on an errand. She finished up and stepped into the shower. April twentieth and it was Easter Sunday. Tourists had begun to flood into Venice; many were Italians. She hoped most would wash back out again after the holiday, but merchants were gearing up for the coming months. Soon, the most popular areas would be crammed with visitors.

There was no doubt in her mind that come May first—less than two weeks away—she’d move into her own Venetian apartment.
Girl, are you sure about this move?
Already the idea of not waking up in Chuck’s arms gave her a lonely chill. But this dream had been the focal point of
all
her goals. To give it up would feel like a betrayal to the little girl who created the fantasy, but another reason was becoming even more important. It might be a survival thing.

She was crazy about Chuck. He was a good man inside and out. He cared about her. Oh yes, she knew that. He cared for others too—for his young men who went into dangerous situations. And she and Chuck had a lot in common. They both had immigrant parents and both loved Venice. Certainly, his words and actions told her he wanted her for more than short-term rolls in the hay.

But. . . the big
but.
In case he turned his back on her when she told him about the escort service, she’d need her own place. She had never expected to reveal that part of her life to anyone. But now, the idea of having a secret from him plagued her. She reached for a towel and doubted she’d ever feel alive again if he . . .

“There you are,” Chuck said peeking around the edge of the bathroom door. “Am I lucky or what? To have this vision of loveliness in my lowly abode.” He wrapped his arms around both her and the damp towel. “Mmm. You smell good enough to eat. Speaking of which, are you as hungry as I am? We could re-heat your nonna’s venison stew as our first course. I picked up a ready-made salad at the deli for the second, and then… who knows?”

Monday evening Giulia felt frazzled when she got home from work and poured a glass of wine before considering dinner. Her phone rang the moment she stretched out on Chuck’s plushy, leather couch.

“Micina, I’m not going to be home to eat with you.”

“No problem. I was wondering whether to bother anyway.”

“Tired?” he asked.

“A little. Sometimes petty departmental stuff wears on me more than all the rest. Is anything wrong at the base?”

“No. An impromptu round-up of team leaders. We’ll bring in beer and pizza. Shouldn’t last too long. Keep the doors locked and our bed warm, okay?”

“I can handle those instructions. Might be awake when you get here.”

“Go ahead and fall asleep. I won’t disturb your slumber… too much.”

She felt better just hearing him make a sexy promise. In the end, she pulled out a couple eggs, a small tomato, a piece of cheese and found tiny, green onions and parsley to stir into an omelet. Compared to her usual fridge, Chuck’s was always stocked with little extras to make a dish special. She dropped a small glob of butter in the skillet when the intercom buzzed. She flicked off the fire and hurried to the control panel.

“Chi è?
Who’s there?” she asked.

“Sono il Tenente Armando di Stefano dei Carabinieri sono venuto a parlare con Ms. Giulia Cavinato.
This is Lieutenant Armando di Stefano with the Carabinieri to speak with Ms. Giulia Cavinato.”

“What is the purpose of your visit?” she answered in Italian thinking it strange that he used the American title “Ms.”

“May I come in?”

“I’m sorry… not at this time.” She’d almost said she was alone, but thought better of that. “Could we set a time for another meeting? Tomorrow evening, maybe?”

“Yes, of course. You may call me about that. I’ll give you the office number. That way you can confirm that I am who I say I am. Let me give you my direct number as well.”

She took down both numbers and said she’d call first thing in the morning. She could hardly wait for Chuck to arrive so they could speculate together what this was about.

Later. Chuck ran his hand through his hair. “God, I’m glad you didn’t let him come up while you were alone. This is the nudge I need to get a video system installed. Not that I’d want you to let a stranger up even if you could see him, but it makes sense to see who’s ringing before answering. You’re probably not in any trouble or he would have demanded to come in.”

“That’s good news,” she said. “It must be about Botteri. But how would he know I’d gone to see him? Could it be about the vandalism? But the federal police wouldn’t be in on that, would they?”

“Guess we’ll have to wait ’til tomorrow night to find out. In the meantime, after a long shower, I’m going to hunt you down.”

“Do you need a talented back scrubber?”

“My back doesn’t need much attention, but… I’ll take what I can get.”

* * *

Tuesday evening, the intercom buzzed exactly at eight—the time Giulia had suggested to the lieutenant’s receptionist.

“Let me get it,” Chuck said.

Before the tall, slender policeman crossed the apartment threshold, he asked,
“Permesso?”
The time-honored question voiced before entering the home of anyone except family or good friends.

Chuck replied,
“Certo,”
and the officer held out his credentials for them to inspect. When Chuck stood aside for him to enter, Giulia gasped, “You!”

Chuck looked at her in alarm. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s the one who served tea in the hotel.”

“Yes, Ms. Cavinato, I am.” He ran his hand through his wiry blond hair, a motion reminding her of Chuck’s habit. For some reason she relaxed a little.

“Please let me explain. I’ve been working with a task force for almost a year now and—”

“So you’re undercover?” she blurted.

“
Si, si. Un agente segreto.”

“It
was
you last Friday afternoon at the Palladiana.”

He sighed. “I’m embarrassed you caught me. I felt like a beginner. Maybe we should hire you to help train me and the rest of our squad.”

“She does have a special sense for stalkers. She caught me when I pursued her, too.”

Both men chuckled. “I’m sorry if I frightened you, signorina.”

She waved her hand as if it had been nothing when in reality her heart had pounded into her throat that day until she’d spotted Chuck’s yellow car.

“May we offer you something, Lieutenant? Tea, coffee, wine?” Giulia gestured for him to follow her into the living room.

“Nothing, thanks. I won’t take much of your time. My assignment these days is to track
you
.”

“Me?” Giulia gasped and looked up at Chuck.

“The reason is complicated. First off, I’m happy to report that Signor Bernardo Botteri has been apprehended and is in custody. But until his more zealous
gallopini,
errand boys, are convinced that he’s lost his power, they might continue to try snatching you. He controls by fear but rewards richly for jobs well done. Until they back off and move to another boss—or are apprehended themselves—a small team is organized to protect you.”

Giulia’s face went pale. “Why would he want them to grab me? I have nothing he wants.”

“Oh, Ms. Cavinato. It’s you he wants. In his ‘private stable’ as he calls it.”

She shuddered and Chuck moved closer to her.

Lieutenant di Stefano pulled out his business cards and gave one to each. “If either of you see
anyone
that looks like they might bother you, call immediately.”

“How will I know whether they are the good guys or the bad ones?” She couldn’t stop a little grin from sliding across her lips.

“I hope you won’t see the good ones,” he snorted, “but I can send you photos of my team. Do you have a fax?”

“We don’t,” Chuck said. “We have email, but pictures aren’t always clear or small enough to carry in one’s pocket. How about I pick up actual photos from your office in Campo San Zaccaria?”

“Excellent idea, but not at the Zaccaria site. The fewer people handling pictures of undercover operators the better. I’ll organize two packets for you and deliver them myself. But it’d be best if I deliver them to you, Major General Novak. Until we nab these goons, the less open contact we have with Ms. Cavinato, the better. I’ll call later and arrange a place to meet. Va bene?”

“Shew!” Giulia said after the policeman left.

“He’s impressive. It’s going to be okay.” Chuck kept his arm around her as they stared at the stairway di Stefano had taken to the ground floor.

Turning back inside, Giulia said, “I don’t usually have premonitions, but I had an uneasy feeling when Nonno Tony asked me to take those gems. I’m sorry I suspected
him,
though. I sure don’t want him to know all the troubles they’ve brought me.”

“I agree. Let’s not let him know.”

* * *

Chuck was easy to be with. He was more meticulous than she was and kept his place tidy and clean with little effort. She tried to comply with his sense of order although he didn’t seem bothered if she left a book or scarf lying in the living room. His kitchen cupboards were orderly but the products weren’t lined up like soldiers with all the labels in “alpha-fucking-betical” order as a friend in Eugene had reported. She’d told Giulia that after watching her husband re-arrange canned goods in the middle of the night, kitchen chores were all his.

Giulia didn’t enter Chuck’s study unless he was there to invite her in. Everyone needed privacy. He’d seemed pre-occupied lately but she didn’t pry or ask over and over if he was all right. Lord knew she was preoccupied with her appointment on Thursday to give a deposition to Oliver’s lawyer. She’d already given one to Rafe Lyne, the lawyer Chuck had hired for her. Rafe was a transplanted Englishman and located in a small office in the clock tower at Piazza di San Marco. He wasn’t a stiff-upper-lip kind of Brit, and they were on a first-name basis which eased her nerves a lot. He’d given her advice on what to expect and how to respond.

Wednesday evening, Chuck and Giulia met Marc and Marlowe for an early pizza at the trattoria Serenissima in Cannaregio. The first whiff of garlic as they entered caused Giulia’s mouth to water. For sure, Serenissima’s pizza rated tops in the city for her. They passed the tables near the front windows and went on beyond the central cooking area where a monstrous jar of oil filled with peeled garlic cloves sat on the counter. They found a table in a rear corner for a little privacy. After ordering, Marc and Marlowe began giving Giulia advice. It was similar to Rafe’s. She should tell the truth as she saw it and nothing more. Giulia nodded.

“Take all the time you need. Don’t let the opposing attorney badger you into answering too quickly,” Marc suggested. Giulia nodded.

“Ask for a repeat of any question that seems strange or off the mark,” Marlowe said. Giulia nodded and began to see herself as one of those bobble-head dolls mounted in the back window of cars in the States.

Chuck had a copy of the tape and its transcription from that horrible meeting. Giulia had already listened to it at least three times and read through the report to refresh her memory. At the time, she’d thought she’d been alert but after it was over, details had blurred. If this went before a jury, the recording would not be allowed, but Rafe knew the judge and Oliver’s attorney—possibly Oliver, himself—would have heard it so she wanted to have it in mind, too.

“My fear,” she said, “is blurting out words that could be construed as having been a purposeful entrapment.”

“Enough!” Marlowe said. “We need to give it a rest. Besides, you don’t blurt, Giulia. Go home, take a hot soak, relax. You’ll do fine tomorrow.”

Chuck and Marc signaled for the check. The four friends walked out together and went their separate ways. But as Giulia and Chuck walked back across the Rialto Bridge toward his apartment, she couldn’t leave it alone.

“If he asks if I instigated Oliver into assaulting me, I can easily answer no. If he asks if I went there to catch him? How do I answer? You know I wanted him caught and was willing to be bait.” She hesitated. “I know it’s semantics. Truth to tell, I think
he
was trying to trap me.”

“That’s the way I see it.”

“I think he wanted to get back at me for kicking him after his first assault. So, in a way, we were both setting a trap for each other.”

“Hmm. You might be right,” Chuck said as he opened the outer door to the apartment. “Don’t forget he locked the door, or thought he did, and you were there at his request. Remember his emails urging you to come? Sure, we all wanted to get rid of him, but you had a legitimate reason to be there.”

“Yes, but—”

“Would he have been willing to discuss by phone or email whether you would teach Italian? I think not. And at some point, you would have had to go to sign another contract. Having backup nearby was merely the same precaution other women were taking. Oliver was aware of that. Remember him checking up and down the hallway looking for possible guards? He just didn’t happen to see us that time.”

“You’re right,” she said feeling more positive as she hung her jacket in the hall closet. “He believed I was locked in with him and thought he had the cards stacked against me.” She shuddered. “Jeez. When I heard that click, it sounded so final.”

“Ah Micina. I hate you went through that.” Unbuttoning her shirt, he said, “Maybe I can find a way to take your mind off tomorrow.”

She slid her hands under
his
shirt moving up his solid chest and stopping to feel the strong throb of his heart. He had
all
her clothes off by the time they reached the shower. In bed, he kissed her from her nose to toes and slowly back up her body, bringing her to a long climax only seconds before his own. Later in the night, she woke feeling restless and worried, but Chuck’s arms around her put the whole ordeal in perspective. She felt loved no matter what would come later.

* * *

The deposition with the opposing attorney was as nerve-wracking as she had expected, but after their talk the night before, Giulia felt confident about her role in that sordid meeting with Oliver Ogle. Not once did Oliver’s lawyer manage to trick her. And when he asked if she had “instigated” the assault, she felt the tightness in the back of her neck let go, releasing the dull headache she’d carried around for a week. She answered no with easy conviction. After that, she relaxed enough to focus on Oliver’s attorney, who seemed to be struggling to defend Oliver.

Marc and Marlowe came to Chuck’s place that evening to celebrate Oliver’s downfall. It wasn’t over, but in the end, they’d never have to deal with him face to face again. At Giulia’s request, Chuck made his Czech grandmother’s leek, spinach and cheese tart. It wasn’t too different from a favorite tart Marc’s Italian nonna made for him. Marc mused aloud if he might try it himself.

“Hey ol’ man, are you ready for a tart standoff?” Chuck challenged, holding a serving spoon out as a mock sword.

“Great idea,” Marlowe announced. “Giulia and I will be impartial judges.”

And both guys blew out big raspberries.

Marlowe carried in a tiramisu she’d brought to the celebration. Rich with heavy cream folded into whipped raw eggs, plenty of Vin Santo and curls of dark chocolate on top. The evening was a fitting tribute to their joint efforts to free the area of Ollie the Ogre.