The Dark Heart of Florence by Tasha Alexander (ebook reader screen TXT) 📕

beyond unlikely to me. That said, if the gun truly was in his possession, he had managed to acquire it. The police might not accept the story that he found it discarded in an alley.

“Tell me again how you came to be in Signore di Taro’s poky little street,” I said. “Why would you be there of all places?”

“Like I told you, I was just wandering around with no aim.”

“I don’t believe you, Carlo.” I motioned for our waiter and ordered the boy another lemonade.

“There’s nothing more to tell. I guess I liked the look of it.”

“Why?” I pressed.

“I don’t know.”

“I think you do.” I sat back and waited for the waiter to return with the fresh lemonade. Carlo stared at me, then at the full glass, then back at me. “You might as well drink it,” I said.

He took a large gulp. “All right. I don’t want anyone else to know, but there’s a girl.” His cheeks flushed vermilion.

“My dear boy, there is always a girl,” Cécile said. “You need not be embarrassed. “Does she return your affection?”

“I don’t even know her name. I saw her walking out of a butcher shop, carrying a package. I followed her, just so I could see where she lives, thinking if I did, maybe I could figure out a way to bump into her again. She’s very pretty.”

“Where does she live?” I asked.

“She went into the building directly across from Signore di Taro. I walked back and forth, hoping she might come out again, but she didn’t, so I’m confident that is where she lives.”

“Have you seen her again since?” Cécile asked.

“No, and I’m not sure I want to anymore,” he said. “Doesn’t seem like a good sign, finding a girl you think you like only to wind up hearing a murder instead of meeting her.”

Carlo put a great stock in signs.

“I agree it wasn’t the best start,” Cécile said. “There are many, many pretty girls in Florence. She is not the last one you’ll see.”

“I suppose so.” He sounded dispirited.

“Carlo, I’m sorry about all of this,” I said. “A boy your age shouldn’t have to worry about murders interfering with meeting a pretty girl. It would be best if you put this all behind you, starting with letting go of the gun.”

“I don’t want the police to have it.”

“I understand that.” I paused, just for a moment, trying to construct an argument he might accept. “Is it possible that everything surrounding your finding of the gun was a sign? You might well have decided not to go into the alley, or not to go back to the vicinity of the murder at all, yet you were compelled to, weren’t you? So you found the gun, just as you were meant to. It’s quite a coincidence that you ran into a policeman immediately thereafter. Just as you were meant to. Perhaps his unwillingness to believe your story should serve as a sign that you were supposed to confide in someone else, someone who would believe and protect you.”

“And you think that someone is you?” he asked.

“I do, along with Signora du Lac. Would you trust us to take care of the gun for you? My husband knows a great deal about weapons. He might be able to learn something from examining it that could lead us to the man who killed Signore di Taro.”

“He could do that?”

“It’s worth a try. You do want the murderer to be caught, don’t you?”

“Yes.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “It does seem a bit like a sign, signora. What are the odds that the two of you wound up talking to me when you were wondering about the murder? You’re sure your husband won’t tell the police about me?”

“I can promise you he won’t.” He had no intention of ever telling the police anything in conjunction with this case.

“All right,” he said. “But I don’t want you to know where my hiding place is.”

“Is it nearby?” Cécile asked.

“I’m not telling you that.” He crossed his arms. “I appreciate your kindness in feeding me and all, but that doesn’t make me indebted to you forever. You know the Ponte Vecchio, right? All tourists do. I’ll bring it to you there, at midnight.”

“Midnight?” I raised an eyebrow and did my best not to smile. Young Carlo had a flair for the dramatic. “I shall be asleep at midnight. How about now? Signora du Lac and I can wait here while you collect the gun.” Cécile looked at me, concern writ on her face. I had no intention of letting him out of our sight, but I couldn’t tell that to my friend without the boy also hearing it, and that might scare him off.

“No, I do not like this plan,” Cécile said. “Carlo, I am coming with you. Do not argue, I am implacable.”

“I won’t let anyone see my hiding place.” Just as I’d feared, he looked ready to bolt. However, I’d underestimated Cécile.

“You will let me see it,” she said, her voice calm and commanding. “In return, I will give you five gold sovereigns.”

“Gold?” His eyes widened.

“Yes. That should make sharing your hiding place with me more palatable.”

The boy squinted as he looked at her. “I think you might be crazy, signora.”

“That is very likely,” Cécile said, “but it has never concerned me.”

“What about her?” He motioned to me.

“She will come behind us, keeping enough distance to be able to make sure no one is following. That way, you won’t have to worry about anyone else discovering your secret. The integrity of the hiding place will remain intact.”

He considered her words and then nodded. “I suppose that would be all right. Are you sure she can tell if someone’s following us?”

“Quite sure,” I said. “I’ve been specially trained in the art.”

He pursed his lips, nodded, and then spoke. “I guess finding the gun and you finding me really was all meant to happen. I’ll do as you ask.”

I hung back while he led Cécile