The Body in the Piazza (19 page)

The fear of discovery was pumping adrenaline through her body. She soon reached her destination and wheeled the bike out of sight in the back of the house. The door they had used at lunch yielded, and she was in.

The house seemed even grander at night. The only sounds she heard were the ticking of a clock somewhere and her own heart beating. Luke had left a few lights on and she had no trouble finding her way to his library. She opened the door and walked in, leaving her flats in the tiled hall to avoid leaving any traces of the outdoors on the carpet.

The moon had risen, but she didn't linger to look at the view out the large windows, moving swiftly instead toward his desk. Nothing had been moved. She grabbed the notebook. Freddy's notebook. A Moleskine with the top corner worn off and the wine stain squarely in the center of the cover. As she retraced her steps, she slipped off the elastic that had kept the book closed and opened it eagerly. She turned the first page, then the next, and the next—more rapidly with each one.

They were all blank.

C
HAPTER
8

F
aith didn't realize she'd finally gotten to sleep until a hand clamped tightly over her mouth awakened her. She struggled for breath and tried to scream as she sought to identify her attacker in the dim morning light. The shutters they had closed over the windows before finally going to bed last night were preventing all but a few rays from seeping in. Just as she was about to push the person away and connect a punch, a voice whispered, “Sssh,”in her ear. It was a voice she knew. A familiar voice. It was Francesca's

“Come quick. I need you.”

Faith slipped out of bed and followed Francesca out into the hall. “What's going on?” She assumed not much. It was only a little after six o'clock. Help with breakfast? Or the day's plans?

Francesca's words tumbled out in a panic.

“Olivia came down to the kitchen to tell me that there was a
serpe,
a snake, in her bathtub. I told her I was sorry and I would come get it out. That it was certainly not a harmful one. She told me she was sure it wasn't and would have taken it outside herself, except it was dead in an odd way—the head chopped off and left next to it! She wanted me to see it.”

“The cat? You have one, right? Or some other predator?”

Francesca nodded. “I told her that and went to clean it up, but I was feeling uneasy. Oh, Faith, I checked your bath before I woke you now and there is one in your tub, too! Exactly the same! The head cut off and put next to it.”

Faith gasped.

“Who could be doing such a thing?” Francesca was twisting her hands together, an agonized expression on her face. “We have to check the other baths and get rid of any more before the others see one. I can't tell Gianni. It would make him too nervous. He is already worried that we will fail.”

And, thought Faith, this is just the kind of story that would cause Cucina della Rossi to go under if it got out. The snake, probably a nonvenomous grass snake, common in the area, would become a black mamba, and the decapitation, dismemberment or worse.

“Let's think. Since you slipped in here, you have the master key for the rooms with you, right?”

“Yes. But what excuse can I give for waking them up?”

“First let's get a trash bag to put the snakes in and then I'll think of something.” They got some bags and paper towels, and as an afterthought, Faith grabbed a pair of rubber kitchen gloves.

“Everyone is most likely still sound asleep,” she said. “You'll knock and explain that you need to do a quick check on the hot water in the bathroom. That there might be a problem. You dispose of any snakes, rinse the tub, and tell them it's fine. I'll wait in the hall.”

She wasn't sure why she thought Francesca might need backup, but it seemed like a good idea.

They returned upstairs. Francesca took a deep breath and started to knock on the Russos' door. Faith grabbed her hand.

“Wait! Listen,” she whispered.

The snores coming from the room were so loud it was a wonder they hadn't woken everyone up. The two women started to giggle—nerves, plus the noise was truly comical, a human buzz saw.

“It's the two of them,” Faith said, again softly, although there was little reason to think anything short of a bomb going off would wake the Russos. “We'll both go in. If by some slim chance they do wake up, you can give your speech about the hot water and I'll climb out the bathroom window onto the ledge. Is it like ours?”

Faith always liked to have a plan, an escape plan. Francesca could come around with a ladder if need be.

“Yes—and you are okay to pick up the
serpe
?”

“Snakes, yes; mice, no.”

They were in and out in under a minute.

And there had been another decapitated serpent in the bath.

It was a typical grass snake, very thin and long—at least three feet. With its dark rings, including the bright yellow one just behind its severed head, it looked much more dangerous than it was. Had Faith not known what it was, it would have caused her more than a moment's consternation—she'd have run out of the room screaming. Using the gloves, she'd accomplished her task swiftly and left the oblivious Russos in the Land of Nod.

“Now Sky and Jack,” Faith said, doubting they would hear any snoring, predicting something more in the nature of panting.

Francesca put her ear to the door. “Too thick. I can't hear anything.”

Faith stepped to the side and Francesca knocked. After a moment, Jack called out, “Yes, what is it?”

Francesca did her number, leaving the door slightly open. Faith thought it sounded convincing, and in a few minutes, Francesca was out in the hall again. “Another one?” Faith asked.

“Yes! Someone must hate us very much! What am I going to do!”

“For now, get the last ones, if there are any, and then we need to dispose of the one in our room. For the rest of the day, and what remains of the week, we'll be keeping a very close eye on everyone until we can figure out who our Madame Defarge is.”

“How could someone get into the rooms? I keep my key in a drawer in the kitchen pantry, out of sight.”

Faith decided now was the time to tell her the Rossis had to come up with more secure room locks, although she didn't tell her how Faith had found this out.

“You can replace them before the next group comes. Tell Gianni I suggested it. And meanwhile, carry the master key with you or put it someplace secure in the other house.”

They had arrived outside the Culvers' door.

“Just do what you did with Sky and Jack. It will be fine,” Faith reassured Francesca, who was beginning to look pale. It
wasn't
all right, but she had to get her friend in and out of this room with her grisly find plus one more, the Nashes'—and that could pose a challenge.

She knocked and Faith heard a sleepy voice say, “Come on in, y'all.” It could have been either Hattie or Sally.

Francesca went inside and Faith heard the voice say, “Speak quietly if you don't mind. Sally has to get her eight hours or she's as mean as a snake.”

The bag for the
serpi,
gloves, and other removal implements were in a larger canvas satchel slung over Francesca's shoulder. Peeking through the door hinge, Faith watched it slip to the ground as Francesca looked startled and appeared about to say something. Faith needed to do something quick. She darted into the room.

“Sorry, but I was passing and saw the door open. Is everything all right? I was on my way downstairs to find you, Francesca. I think there's something wrong with the hot water.”

The relief on her friend's face was palpable.

“I was just about to tell Hattie that. I don't think it's every room, but I will check this one and then look at yours.”

Sally snorted and rolled over but didn't wake. Hattie held a finger to her lips. Both women were firm believers in hairnets and liberal applications of face cream. Hattie was also wearing a chinstrap. Beauty did not come without effort. Faith smiled and went back out.

“Phew,” Francesca breathed out, closing the door behind her. “That was close. I thought she was talking about the snake in the
bagno
.”

“I know. That's why I went in. ‘Mean as a snake' is an expression. In this case, Sally would be in a bad mood if she didn't get enough sleep.”

Francesca looked dubious.

They had come to the Nashes' room. The last hurdle.

“She'll be very upset at being waked up. But imagine what she would be like if she sees the
serpe
! You don't think she has, do you?” Francesca said.

“There are few things in life that we can be sure of, but this is one. If Constance Nashe saw a snake several feet long in her bath, dead or alive, the entire village would hear her shrieks.”

No one answered Francesca's first knock—or the second. Reluctantly, she opened the door and walked in.

“But they are not here!”

Faith went into the room. The bed had been slept in, and unlike Olivia, and the Russos also, the Nashes were not tidy. Clothing was strewn around, and evidently both Roderick and Constance liked to eat in bed—candy wrappers and other empty packaging was mounded on their nightstands next to used glasses from the bathroom. Road maps scattered on the table by the window attested to their wanderlust.

Francesca headed straight to the bath while Faith stood watch, and they were able to leave almost immediately with yet another headless reptile. Afterward they cleaned up in the Fairchilds' room and, carrying their gruesome burden, walked outside to get rid of the remains.

Faith had had a great many unusual experiences in her life, but this one would be hard to top.

And where were the Nashes? Up at dawn for a constitutional, what ho? She looked out the window; their car was there, so they must be on foot.

Tom was still sound asleep. Unusual for him, but it had been another late night. He was going to have a hard time readjusting to his Aleford decidedly noncontinental schedule—one that found him in bed before ten and any phone, or other, calls after eight meant an emergency. She got dressed and decided to go downstairs to have her breakfast in the kitchen. She was hungry—and needed coffee, much coffee. She also wanted to be around to provide silent moral support for her friend when Gianni came for his
colazione
. The episode had been profoundly disturbing—and disgusting. The question was who had the stomach to do such a thing in the first place? Someone who didn't have a problem with snakes, clearly. The big question was not so much how as why?

E
xcerpt from Faith Fairchild's travel journal:

Snakes. All I'll need is the word to remember this morning whenever I go back and read this journal, which is not the one I thought I'd be keeping. Took a lot of pictures yesterday at the wineries and the olive mill, so those will have to serve instead of writing here about them. Before I left, Ursula gave me a big leather-bound, very fancy album for photos of the trip with spaces for descriptions and she'll be sure to ask to see it, so unlike every other trip and the best resolutions, I'm going to actually use it, or forever feel guilty. Not that Ursula would ever intend this. She and Pix, who I sometimes think is a clone of her mother, not simply the offspring, religiously keep albums of all their trips near and far. I'm rambling. Don't want to think about the snakes.

Or the notebook.

Travel is disorienting, yes, but could I be going mad? Freddy was writing in it when we joined him at the restaurant in Rome and the page was almost filled. The page opposite was completely filled. I can see his writing now. Tiny, almost microscopic. And the pages were past the middle of the book, so presumably those were filled, too. He was writing with a fine-tipped Sharpie-type pen. Not his fountain pen, come to think of it. Afraid of blots in his copybook? I can hear him saying this.

I can't tell Tom about the blank book. Aside from breaking into someone's house, although the door was open, he already thinks I've imagined the whole thing, and this would clinch it.

Have I?

No. I saw it! And what I saw last night wasn't the same book.

Why did I put it back? It felt almost as if it was burning my hand. I just wanted to get rid of it, but I should have taken it, then I'd be able to see for sure that the wear and stain had been recent. Someone faking a new one to look like Freddy's. It has to be Luke, Jean-Luc—whoever he is. But it still could be any of the rest of them. Everyone scattered when we got back from the vineyards and the mill. Plus later someone could have done what I did and snuck in. Luke was here all the time, or was he? Maybe he went home for a while before the barbecue. A quick shave in that fantasy bathroom? (Remember fish tank bathtub and the rest. Write more about it at home. Think I'll be doing a lot of catching up after the fact. Too much else going on here.)

I'm by the pool, but sitting in the shade. My eyes may have been playing enough tricks on me without adding sunspots. Everyone must still be at breakfast. It's very nice to have some time alone.

Can't really enjoy it though. Why was Olivia up so early? Well, she could be an early riser and wanted a bath. And certainly made of stern stuff. No hysterics when she found the snake. How does she fit into all this? How do any of them? Now if the snakes had been shot . . .

After breakfast we're leaving for Montepulciano, a longish drive, and other than Florence, the big outing of the week. Then back here for pasta making. Can honestly tell the Rossis they have a success. Just so long as the cream doesn't turn again and the snakes stay in the grass.

Francesca's an incredible actress. Gianni came in for his colazione while we were having ours together, and there was no way he could have sensed from her that anything was wrong. But then she'd been able to pull this sort of performance off all those years ago in Manhattan. She fooled me. Is she playing a role again?