Dangerous Kiss (48 page)

She called Detective Johnson. 'Any connection?' she asked.

'I'm studying the reports now,' he said.

'How about any leads on who did it?'

'Not yet. However, a neighbour did see a man arriving at the house this morning.

I'll keep you informed.'

'Thanks,' she said, finally getting off the phone and going into her children's room, where she found little Gino and Maria in the middle of a fierce pillow fight.

'And how're my two little scamps?' she asked, hugging them both.

'Hi, Mommy,' they chorused, out of breath and giggling.

'Hello, you two naughty little rug-rats.'

'Where's Daddy?' Maria demanded.

'I keep on telling you, Daddy's working.'

'Wanna see him,' little Gino chanted. 'Wanna see him! Wanna see him! Wanna see him!'

'You will. You're going to Grand-daddy's this weekend, and Daddy'll be there, too.'

'Supercool!' Maria said, her favourite new word. 'Can we all go swimming together?'

'I'm not coming this weekend, sweetheart,' she explained. 'I've too much work to do here.'

'Oh, Mommy, c'mon,' Maria pleaded. 'I like you and Daddy in the pool. You look so pretty together.'

Lucky couldn't help laughing. 'People aren't pretty together, darling. They're nice together.'

'No, Mommy, you and Daddy are pretty.'

'Well, thank you. I'm glad you think that.'

After reading them a bedtime story, she kissed them both, tucked them into bed, and went back to her bedroom, where she stared at the phone for a while.

Maybe Venus was right. Closure. She needed closure.

'That was good,' Lennie said, pushing his plate away.

'I'm glad you enjoyed it,' Claudia said, gazing at him with adoring eyes.

He had a horrible feeling she had a crush on him. Of course he knew why. It was because he was there for her, and she'd obviously never had anyone care about her before. He'd been thinking that it was definitely time for her to get out and meet new people.

'I think I've found a house,' he said, standing up from the table.

'A house for us, Lennie?' she asked eagerly.

'No, a house for you and Leonardo.'

'Where will you be?' she asked, disappointed.

'I'll stay here.'

'Why can't you live with us?'

'Because, Claudia,' he said patiently, 'I've tried to explain this to you before. I have a wife whom I love very much, and she's not very happy about you turning up here with a child. Now, I understand it's not your fault, but I have to get my life back together. And it's not helping matters that I'm living here with you.'

'I'm sorry, Lennie,' she said, lowering her eyes. 'I have tried to be no trouble. I could not stay in Italy. Leonardo is your son and he needed help.'

'I know, Claudia, I know,' he said, trying to be patient and nice and all the things he didn't feel like being, 'and we're getting him help. I'll speak to the doctors in a day or two, see what their tests have come up with.'

'Thank you, Lennie.'

'This is what I've decided,' he said. 'I'm moving you and Leonardo into the house I've found. Then maybe you should get a job. Your English is pretty good, you shouldn't have any problems. You could be an interpreter, or work at the Italian Embassy.'

'Whatever you say.'

'I say you can have a good life here, Claudia, but you have to realize that it's not going to be with me.'

'I understand,' she murmured, not understanding at all.

'Now I gotta take a shower,' he said, pleased that he'd told her the way it was going to be. 'If the phone rings, pick up, it could be the realtor.'

'Yes, Lennie.'

He went into the bathroom and ran the shower. Tomorrow he would make a concentrated effort to talk to Lucky. This had gone on long enough. As each day passed, they were growing further and further apart, and he couldn't take it any more.

The moment he stepped into the shower, the phone rang. Claudia picked up.

'Hello?' she said.

On the other end of the line Lucky hesitated for a moment. 'Put Lennie on,' she said at last.

'I'm sorry,' Claudia purred, 'Lennie is in the shower.' Lucky slammed the phone down. This was not going to work out.

Chapter Seventy-nine

One thing Brigette had tried to learn from Lucky was how to be strong. Obviously she hadn't done such a good job, because if she had, she wouldn't have got into such a devastating predicament.

If only she'd taken Lucky's advice and had the strength of character not to get involved with Carlo. After her previous dismal experiences with men, Lucky had warned her to take great care when entering a new relationship. She should've taken heed of Lucky's philosophy - fight back or get trampled. It was a good one.

But Carlo hadn't given her a choice. She'd gone to London to track him down, all set on punishing him. And what had happened? He'd kidnapped her and forced her into becoming a heroin addict. Then, when she was totally addicted and depended on him for everything, he'd married her.

She'd really had no choice in the matter because heroin took away the decision-making process. You got up in the morning, took your first shot, and then it was like, okay, here comes another great day - lie back and enjoy it… whatever.

So, yes, her life had become a series of dream sequences. And Carlo made sure she always had what she wanted, never depriving her.

And, in some sick way, because of her dependency on heroin, she'd grown totally dependent on him, putting up with his verbal abuse, black rages and sometime physical abuse.

It was only now that she could see the picture clearly. Only now that she realized what he'd done to her, and what an unconscionable monster he was.

Perhaps he'd done her a favour by abandoning her… leaving her in the middle of nowhere…

He would be punished, for she'd lost his baby, his son. And now that she was no longer pregnant there was nothing to tie them together except a marriage certificate, and her lawyers would soon take care of that. She didn't care how much she had to pay to get rid of him. It would be worth it.

She was doing her best to regain her physical strength, and even though she was still weak with stomach cramps, aching bones and a permanent headache, she was determined to walk out of this place as soon as possible. She knew for sure that she had to get out before Carlo returned.

Who knew what he would do? She would put nothing past him. He might even try to hook her up again. Then once more she'd be trapped. It would be an easy enough task for him to accomplish, because although she hadn't had heroin in a week, it was an addiction she knew she'd probably have to spend the rest of her life fighting.

When she was high, even Carlo being the biggest bastard in the world didn't matter.

Every morning she walked outside and sat by her baby's grave. Her son. Being near him gave her a sense of peace. The poor little soul would have been born addicted, and she could not have taken the pain and suffering the baby would've had to go through.

After a while she began exploring the big old house and the surrounding grounds, eventually discovering a barn in the back, where she found a rusty old bicycle with flat tyres. After more searching, she came across a pump. It was an exciting discovery, and although she was not mechanically minded, she set about getting the bike into working order.

She had no idea where she was. Carlo had mentioned that they were in the middle of nowhere. But she was sure that if she took a supply of water and cans of food, and followed the road, eventually she'd reach another house or someone who could help her.

She formed a plan in her mind. Two more days of guarding her strength, drinking plenty of nourishing cans of soup from the fast-dwindling supply in the kitchen, and building herself up.

Then she was getting on the bike and leaving.

People were drawn towards Boogie. A Vietnam vet with a laidback attitude, tall and lanky, he never presented a threat. Somehow, wherever he was, he always managed to fit in. So when he started hanging out with a group of old men in the village square near the Vitti palace, they accepted him as an American writer, studying other cultures, and allowed him to join in their daily game of boules, and sit around afterwards, drinking bitter black coffee and puffing on strong cigarettes.

Boogie had his eye on one old man in particular, Lorenzo Tiglitali, the houseman from the Vitti family palace. Lorenzo was a gregarious character, short and stocky, with a shock of silver hair, tanned, wrinkled skin, and a wooden leg - a souvenir from the war. He was seventy-two and proud of it, boasting that he'd never had one sick day in forty years of working for the Vitti family.

Lorenzo loved telling tales, and fortunately he spoke very good English. Boogie soon became his best listener.

It was an easy job eliciting information from Lorenzo. He never stopped talking, carrying on about everything from the price of bread, to how tight his boss was with money.

It didn't take Boogie long to get on to the subject of Carlo.

'That boy!' Lorenzo spat in disgust. 'He's spoiled. No good. Even now he has the American wife he's still no good.'

'An American wife, huh?' Boogie asked quietly. 'Do they live at the palace?'

'They did,' Lorenzo said, chugging down a brandy, bought for him by Boogie.

'Now he go to Sardinia with another woman. And the wife…' The old man suddenly stopped talking, aware that he might be saying too much.

'What about the wife?' Boogie urged. 'Where is she?'

Lorenzo shrugged, draining his glass of Cognac.

'Another?' Boogie offered.

'I shouldn't.'

'Go ahead.'

'Just one more.'

The 'just one more' loosened Lorenzo's tongue. 'His American wife is pregnant, you know. And very rich. Carlo has promised to get the family a few million dollars by the end of the year.'

'No!' Boogie said, feigning surprise.

'Oh, yes,' the old man assured him.

'Tell me about the American girl. Is she happy to be left behind while her husband goes off with other women?'

Lorenzo chuckled. 'She doesn't know about it. He took her to the family hunting lodge in the country.'

'Really? Where's that?'

Lorenzo screwed up his eyes and peered at Boogie. 'Why you so interested?'

'Sometimes I dabble in real estate. I have a friend who might be interested in purchasing a property outside Rome.'

The old man wheezed with laughter. 'Not this place. It's rundown and deserted.

The family has no money for upkeep. Maybe when the millions of dollars come they restore it.'

'If it's so run-down and deserted, why would Carlo take his wife there?'

'I heard him telling his mama she would be happy there.'

'Really?' Boogie said, buying the old man yet another Cognac. 'About my friend.

Perhaps I should look at this hunting lodge. If you go to your boss with a big enough offer, you could score yourself a healthy commission.'

'I could?' Lorenzo said, his rheumy old eyes popping at the thought.

'Yes,' Boogie said casually. 'Tell me where it is, and I'll go take a look. If I run into the American woman, I'll say I'm a potential buyer. I'm sure she won't object.'

'You'll never find the place,' Lorenzo said.

'If I can find my way through the jungles of Vietnam,' Boogie said, 'I'm sure I can find my way to this house. Here,' he added, pulling out a wad of money, 'let me give you five hundred dollars as good faith money. If I like the place, you'll get more. If I don't, nothing lost, and you'll be a richer man.'

Lorenzo stared at the money, a greedy expression on his wrinkled old face. His salary had been the same for the last ten years, and he could certainly use something extra. His daughter wanted to go to Milan to be a teacher; his wife was desperate for a new winter coat; his son was married with two children and needed many things.

He grabbed the pile of notes, quickly stuffing them in his pocket. 'Tomorrow I will draw you a map.'

'Good,' Boogie said, sensing it would not do to rush him. 'We have a deal.'

Chapter Eighty

Duke reviewed his stash. He knew he'd done well at the Washington house, but he had not taken the time to ascertain exactly how well. Now he was checking out his spoils.

The safe, which he'd been able to crack - having been taught by a master safe-cracker in jail in Florida - had revealed plenty of treasures. A leather pouch containing twelve expensive Patek Philippe watches, bundles of cash totalling over fifty thousand dollars, some important-looking papers that he would read at a later date, and a leather box full of assorted gold and diamond rings and cufflinks.

He'd also packed a Vuitton suitcase with several custom-made suits, shirts and ties. Even though Price Washington was obviously a much bigger man than he was, Duke liked the idea of hanging these clothes in his closet. Nothing like a three-thousand-dollar suit to give a man a buzz - even if it was just to look at.

He'd also found the shoebox Maybelline had told him to collect. It was exactly where she'd said it would be, hidden in a cupboard above the fridge in the kitchen, unreachable except by step-ladder.

He stared at the shoebox. Maybelline had said not to open it. Fuck that shit. He opened it and discovered a handgun wrapped in a towel. He was smart enough not to get his prints on it.

Very interesting, he thought. Have to find out more.

He removed the watches from their pouch and laid them out, admiring them and the assorted jewellery. Then he re-counted the money - just to make sure.

He wished he could speak to his sister right now, but she would not be allowed to make a collect call until morning.

Damn! He missed Maybelline. He was miserable without her. They had such a strong connection, and that connection suffered when they were apart.

Maybe he should think about getting her out…

Mila didn't sleep well. She was disturbed by Maybelline's couldn't-give-a-damn attitude and Duke's rape of the maid. How dare he! How fucking dare he!

Early in the morning she grabbed Maybelline by the arm and said, 'You'd better talk to your brother. I need him to deliver my package today.'