Champagne Deception (19 page)

“Why do you want to call him?” She asked boldly.

“No more questions from you.  Or I
’ll tie you up again.  Give me the number!”

Angrily, she shouted Lorenzo’s phone number as Jonathan punched the digits into his phone.

*****

“Declan Wainwright, the English art dealer?” Officer Menini
asked humorously.  “He’s hosting a big party at his art gallery tonight.  His alibi is air-tight.”

Frustrated, Lorenzo insisted, “He’s been openly making thr
eats against us since we got our gallery!  The party he’s hosting could just have been a clever way to provide an alibi for himself.”

Officer Menini shook his head.  “Stick to your art, Lorenzo.  You’re no detective.”

Before Lorenzo could reply, his cell phone rang in his pocket.

“Why didn’t you take his phone from him when you booked him?  That’s contraband!” Officer Menini reprimanded the arresting officer who stood by
looking at the floor.

“It’s a good thing I do have it because
that could be Coretta,” Lorenzo said frantically, grabbing the phone and seeing a private number.  “Coretta?” He spoke desperately into the receiver.

“No, this is not Coretta,” a male voice drawled.  “But she is here with me.  Here, I’ll let you say hello.”

A second later, Coretta breathed into the line and said through tears, “Lorenzo, where are you?”

“I’m in jail!” He answered reflexively.  “Where are you?!”  The phone went dead a moment later.  “Coretta, are you there?  Hello? 
Carissima
?” He smacked his hand on his thigh.  “The line went dead!  You have to trace that number.  It came through as private!”

“Give me the phone,” Officer Menini demanded.  “We need to put a wire tap on this immediately.”

“It wasn’t just Coretta I spoke to!  It was a man who came on the line first.”

“And was it Declan Wainwright?” Officer Menini asked doubtfully.

“No.  Definitely not.  The man sounded American.  But Declan could have hired someone to kidnap her!”

“Take it easy, Signor Fiatti.  Leave the detective work to us.  I’m guessing the kidnapper hung up because you said you were in jail.  So he knew you were surrou
nded by law enforcement, which would leave him very vulnerable.  We’re going to let you go with your phone.” Turning to the sheepish arresting officer, Menini chided, “No more of these bogus arrests!  Save it for the real criminals!” Returning his attention to Lorenzo, he said, “After you leave here, we’re going to tail you and track every phone call that comes through to your number.  My guess is that the kidnapper wants something from you.  Like money.  So he’ll call again.  Just give it some time.  If any type of ransom request is made, go ahead and follow through because we’ll be there to make an arrest.”

A flood of relief coursed through his arteries.  Finally, someone was listening.  And Coretta was alive.  She had sounded upset in that brief moment on the phone, but she was alive, and he was going to find her.

*****

“What the hell is your stupid boyfriend doing in jail?” Jonathan asked, half angry, half amused.

“I have no idea,” s
he said desolately.

“We’re just going to sit and wait it out.  I’ll call him back a little later.  But if he’s still in jail, then he’s got cops around him.  And there’s no way in hell I’m going to be caught.”

“But you are going to be caught!  Make no mistake about that!  You don’t even know what you’re doing,” she spat at him.

“Watch that tongue, Coretta.  You’re not the one in control right now.”

“I’m in control of myself,” she asserted, refusing to cower under his glare.  The more they talked, the less afraid she felt.  Jonathan was playing with fire by kidnapping her in another country.  He didn’t speak a single word of Italian.  Once the cops were on his trail, he would be doomed.

“Just shut up and sit still.  I’m tired of your mouth.”

“And I’m tired of being cooped up in this car.  Won’t you at least let me get some air and stretch my legs outside?” She asked hopefully with the ulterior motive of escaping.

“Are you kidding
? I’m not letting you out of this car.  But I am getting hungry.  If I can get the car out of this ditch, I’ll take you back to my hotel.  You can rot in the room while I have a gourmet dinner,” he taunted.

“Go feed your face!  I don’t care.  I’m not hungry.  I just want fresh air,” she whined with deliberate shrillness.

“That’s it.  I’ve had enough of you.  I’m going to drive you to the hotel now.  You’ll be restrained of course once I get you into the room.” He shot out of the back seat and jumped into the front.

She shuddered with a combination of indignation and dread as he started the engine.  Her cell phone rang in her purse.  As she reached for it, he warned, “Don’t answer that no matter who it is!”

Coretta saw that it was Lorenzo calling.  She yearned to pick up the phone and hear his voice but obeyed Jonathan.  The call went to voicemail, but Lorenzo immediately called back again.  And again.

“I’m sick of hearing that damn phone! Turn it off!
” He shouted.  “And what’s that lame ass ring tone?”

“An Italian love song,” she muttered.  Wistfully, she recalled the evening in Lorenzo’s Jacuzzi when they had bathed while listening to the same romantic tune.

“Well your love story is over.  Just like Romeo and Juliet, your love story is going to have a very tragic ending.” He laughed bitterly while watching her from the rearview mirror.  Shuddering anew, she tried to drown out his fear mongering and conjured the beautiful image of Lorenzo’s shining eyes.

*****

Lorenzo sprinted out of the jail and hopped on his
bike.  Coretta wasn’t answering her phone, and now the calls were going directly to voicemail.  Not knowing where to begin looking for her, he prayed that the officers would be able to trace the previous call quickly and find out where that man had absconded with her.  As he was about to merge into traffic, his phone rang.  But this time the number wasn’t private.  Drawing a shaky breath, he said, “Coretta?”

“Yes, it’s me, Lorenzo,” she whispered.  “I don’t have much time.  He just stopped to get gas and I’m going to make a run for it.  I don’t know exactly where I am, but I’m somewhere near---“

“Coretta?  Coretta are you there?  Please say something!” Lorenzo begged.  But the only reply was a droning dial tone.

Chapter Seventeen

The gasoline spilled from the pump onto the concrete as Jonathan threw down the hose and chased Coretta.  She had marginally escaped his view long enough to call Lorenzo and get out of the car.  But now as she ran in her stockings, Jonathan was acutely aware of her scheme and pursued her ruthlessly.  She tripped and tumbled onto the ground as he gained on her.  Swiftly, she hopped to her feet, but the fall had given him just enough time to catch up to her.

Channeling her self defense training, she launched a strategic kick that instantly disabled her attacker as he doubled over in pain.  Seizing on his weakness, she ran even faster as he stood hunched over trying to catch his breath.  Across the street she sprinted without looking for oncoming traffic.  A car swerved off the road as the driver screamed Italian profanities at her.  Ignoring everything but her quest for freedom, Coretta did not flinch.  She kept running even as
her cell phone rang off the hook with Lorenzo’s ceaseless phone calls.

Daring to look behind her, she saw that Jonathan had gotten back into the car and was careening recklessly out of the gas station.  The car zig zagged dangerously into traffic before crashing head on into another vehicle.  Coretta stared at the accident, wondering if Jonathan had been hurt---or killed.  The other vehicle was practically totaled
, and the headlights on his rental car were smashed in.  She ran backwards on the sidewalk squinting to see if either driver would emerge.  Her heart pounded as Jonathan and the other driver managed to wriggle out of the front seats.  Both had cuts and scrapes on their heads.

Coretta kept running, covering a mile of territory without looking behind her.  Jonathan couldn’t come after her again.  Not tonight anyway.  Now she just had to figure out where she was and ask Lorenzo to come get her.  As he called for the sixteenth time since she had fled the vehicle, Coretta finally answered the phone.

“Lorenzo, I’m okay!  I’m free!  I need you to come get me. But are you still in jail?  Why are you in jail anyway?” Her tone bordered on hysterical.

“No, I’m not in jail now.  It was all just a misunderstanding.  Where are you?”

“Oh, thank goodness you’re not in jail!  You can come for me, but I have no idea where I am!” The stream of words flowed breathlessly from her.

“
Okay, I’m on the road right now.  Just give me some idea of where you are.  What kinds of businesses do you see nearby?  What street names?” Lorenzo implored.

“I don’t know.  It’s so dark out here.  I just came from a gas station---wait, I think
that’s a restaurant across the street.  The sign says
Il Molino
.  Do you know where I am?”

“Yes, but damn it, you’re about 30 miles away from where I am!  The police will be there before I
arrive.  I’ll make sure of it.  Just stay on the phone.  And go inside the restaurant where you’ll be safe.  I’m going to call the cops on the other line.”

“Okay.  I’m walking into the restaurant right now.”  Coretta opened the door to the bright, welcoming bistro.

For the next hour, Lorenzo kept her on the line with his hands-free set as he rode the bike.  She could barely hear him over the din of the engine and traffic, but it didn’t matter.  Just knowing he was coming for her was comforting beyond comprehension.

As Lorenzo promised, the local police did arrive before he did.  They swarmed around her with invasive questions about the kidnapping.  She answered their questions in a mental fog as the whole ordeal seemed surreal.  Her heart soared when she looked out the window and saw Lorenzo pulling into the parking lot.  A second later, he was inside the restaurant with open arms.

“Coretta, I was so worried about you,” he raved as she ran into his arms and pressed her face into his heart.

Officer Menini stood by patiently allowing the reunited lovers to share a moment of privacy.  After a few minutes of their tearful embrace, he cleared his throat and interjected, “
Signorina
Nicholas was in the middle of giving us a physical description of her assailant.  It’s very important information because he’s still on the loose.”

Coretta detached as she relayed the details. 
“Yes, I was saying that he’s about 5’10” with a stocky build.  Curly blond hair and pale blue eyes.  32 years old.  No tattoos or piercings, but he does have a weird mole on his lower abdomen.”

A look
of horror came over Lorenzo’s tear-stained face as she revealed the last intimate detail. “How do you know about a mole?  Did he sexually assault you?”

Coretta remained mute, trying to formulate an explanation
that would not make her appear dishonest.  This was not how she wanted Lorenzo to find out about how---and when---her relationship with Jonathan ended.

Before she coul
d speak, Officer Menini said, “She knows that detail because as is the case with most kidnappings and attempted homicides, the perpetrator was not a stranger.  He was her ex-boyfriend.”

“Ex-boyfriend?” Lorenzo thundered.  “Who?”

“Mr. Jonathan Trake from New York City,” Officer Menini read the name off his notepad as Coretta cringed.

“Coretta, isn’t that the
Wall Street guy I saw you in a photo with?  When I searched for you online before you came to Milan?” Lorenzo demanded.

“Yes, it’s him,” she gulped.

Officer Menini said authoritatively, “Yes, it’s very common in recent breakups and divorces to see one party go after the other. And in this case, the breakup was extremely recent according to
Signorina
Nicholas.  Just last month, isn’t that what you said?” He turned to her for confirmation as she averted his gaze and looked apprehensively at Lorenzo.

His face was a
mask of pain.  He stared at her through eyes that revealed a powerful betrayal that he could not put into words.  She looked back at him pleadingly, hoping he would forgive her for not telling him how recently her relationship with Jonathan had ended.

In an ominously low timber, he said,
“Why didn’t you tell me you broke up with him last month?  You’ve been lying to me since I met you!”

*****

Outside the restaurant, Lorenzo paced with his hands shoved in his pockets.  How could Coretta have been reticent about such a crucial detail?  The past whirlwind month suddenly seemed like an enormous deception.  And he was angry.  None of these things would have befallen him had Coretta not come to Milan.  No one would have tried to kill him on the highway or sabotage the opening reception of the first art gallery he had ever owned.  His life would have been peaceful---and empty.  As furious as he was, Lorenzo still loved Coretta.  But he couldn’t let his heart soften to her right now.  Not in the wake of such a consequential lie.