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

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “You did not deserve to die like this.”

I know not how much time passed before clattering footsteps above alerted me to the arrival of the police. They ordered me out of the room and had no interest in hearing anything I had to say about the victim. The most senior officer, recognizing that I had no intention of going away gently, took me by the arm, steered me to the steps, and prodded me up them.

“Signora, I apologize most sincerely that you had the misfortune to witness such a dreadful scene,” he said. Cécile was standing nearby, tapping the tip of her parasol on the stone floor and scowling. “It is only natural that you would become hysterical. Don’t try to speak. You’ll only upset yourself more. We have the matter in hand and require nothing further from you.”

“Do you know the victim’s name?” I asked. “Do you know where she lived? Do you know why she came here?”

“These are all questions we will answer in good time,” he said. “There is no need to let it further trouble you.” He started back toward the steps. I called after him.

“Her name is Lena Bastieri. She lives above her father’s leather shop in the Piazza Santo Spirito.”

He paused and turned around.

“I assure you, signore, I am anything but hysterical,” I continued. “I don’t know why she decided to come here, or even how she knew about the trapdoor, but she came of her own volition and asked my friend and me to meet her.”

“When did she ask you to meet her?” he asked.

“She left us a note, but we don’t know precisely when,” Cécile said.

“Do you have the note here, with you?”

“No,” Cécile said. “I didn’t see any need to keep it and threw it away after I read it. It’s not as if her message was complicated. It was perfectly straightforward: meet me in the little room beneath the Medici Chapel.”

“I did not know this room existed,” the policeman said. “How did she?”

“That, inspector—are you an inspector?—I do not know,” Cécile said. “I assumed it was common knowledge. Now, if you’ve nothing further to ask of us, I’d like to take my friend back to the house at which we are staying. She is not hysterical, but she is very upset.”

“I’m perfectly fine—”

Cécile did not let me finish. “Should you require our assistance, you may reach us at the Palazzo di Vieri.” With that, she pulled me out of the vestry, silencing me when I started to object. Only when we were back outside, standing in the sunshine streaming through the piazza, did she let me speak.

“You’ve quite a flair for lying to the police,” I said.

“I did not think it wise to give the police any details Monsieur Hargreaves would not want them to know, and I certainly was not going to give him the opportunity to seize Lena’s message to us.”

“They need to investigate the murder.”

“Oui, but if Lena’s death is connected to Marzo’s, we both know they will not have access to the sensitive information necessary to find the killer.”

“Only Colin and Darius have that.” As I said their names, I saw the gentlemen striding toward us. As they drew closer, Colin rushed forward, looking alarmed.

“Emily, my dear girl, are you all right?”

I was more than a little disheveled, my jacket gone, my hands and clothes streaked with blood. “As well as can be expected. The police are inside.”

“We’ll take care of them,” he said. “You two go back to the house. We’ll follow as soon as possible.”

Part of me wanted to see how he planned to deal with the police, but I did not have it in me to protest. All I wanted was a hot bath and the privacy it provided to break down and cry.

Colin could see I was not well. “Will you give us a moment?” he asked, nodding at Darius, who immediately took Cécile by the arm and stepped away.

“How did you arrive here so quickly?” I asked. “I didn’t expect you to receive the message Cécile left until this evening.”

“I didn’t get the message. We heard about the murder from another source, and after your speculations about di Taro, I didn’t think we should dismiss any other suspicious death as unconnected to our investigation.”

“I shan’t bother to ask the identity of your source.”

He frowned. “I’m worried about you. Let me take you to the palazzo and get you settled. Darius can handle this.”

“No, that’s not necessary, although the offer’s much appreciated,” I said. “I’m feeling awful because I should have done more for Lena. I didn’t take her seriously and thought she was playing games. And now it’s too late—”

“Lena?” Colin asked. “It’s Lena who’s dead?”

“I thought you knew.”

“Only that a body had been discovered in the Medici Chapel. I’m escorting you and Cécile and will brook no argument.” He waved Darius over. “This is not some random murder. Lena Bastieri is the victim. I’ll take the ladies back to the house and return as quickly as possible. In the meantime, do whatever you can to keep the police from making too much of a mess of things.”

“Right.” Darius nodded. “Do we know how long she’s been dead?”

“She was cold when Cécile and I found her,” I said.

“I’m sorry, Emily. I wish there were words that could soothe you,” he said. “Instead, I can only promise to find the wretch who did this to her and make sure he can never hurt anyone else again.”

“Thank you, Darius.” I can’t say his words were a comfort, but I knew he and Colin would do everything possible to set things right. Whether that meant I would ever know what happened remained to be seen. I had been doing my best not to let Colin’s need for secrecy aggravate me. I knew his motives were noble, but inside, I was fuming. What in theory sounds reasonable and measured does not always prove so in reality.