Grace Takes Off (24 page)

BRUCE HEADED US OFF AT THE DOOR. “IS EVERYTHING OKAY, GRACE?”

“We’ll be right outside,” I said. “I don’t want to disturb your guests.” Shooting
a malevolent look at Adam, I added, “Keep an eye on me though, okay?”

Adam exploded when we got outside. “What was that all about?” He threw his arms out
in frustration, the blooms in his left hand bouncing brightly, as though shaken by
his anger.

Two large men sauntered up behind him. They looked like the kind of guys who play
bouncers in movies. Built like Mack trucks, they wore dark T-shirts stretched to bursting
against ham-sized pecs over black jeans that were too tight to be comfortable. I pointed,
less confident than I’d been a moment ago. “Bodyguards?” I asked. “Plan to rough me
up the way you did Tooney?”

Adam rubbed his forehead with his free hand, muttering. “I don’t know why I don’t
throw these stupid flowers on the street and walk away from this nutty place.” He
turned to the two men flanking him. “Go find something to do,” he said.

They exchanged a look but didn’t argue.

“You try to tell me that SlickBlade is no big deal, yet you show up here with bodyguards,”
I said, pointing toward the departing figures. “We share a flight together with a
killer that
your
band brought on board, and you tell me you have no idea who she was. Now I find out
that you’re in cahoots with Gerard Pezzati.” I fisted my hip. “What else are you hiding?”

“‘In cahoots’?” As he mocked my words, his lip curled. I got the impression he was
tamping down a smile. The jerk. “Did you really say that?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“What I want to know is why you care so much about my business dealings with Jerry
Pezz. That’s what I call him, by the way. It wasn’t until your friend—what’s his name?—Tooney—showed
up that I remembered Pezz is a shortened version of Pezzati. I’ve been working with
the guy for years. To me, he’s Pezz.”

“Convenient.”

He raised the flowers, as though to make a point, belatedly realizing what he was
doing. “This is stupid,” he said. He turned and scanned the immediate area. A fortyish
woman, walking alone, was about to pass us. She carried a reusable grocery bag down
by her side and seemed lost in thought. He intercepted her, smiled, and handed the
astonished woman the bouquet. “A beautiful woman deserves beautiful flowers.”

I watched confusion, pleasure, and suspicion cloud the woman’s face, but before she
could even thank him, he stormed back over to me. “Where was I?” he asked.

The woman must have read the situation. She gave a resigned shrug and continued on
her way, a smile playing about her lips. I hoped she wasn’t on Frances’s team.

“You were about to profess your innocence, no doubt,” I said with sharp sarcasm.

He ran both hands up and through his hair. “What does Jerry have to do with you?”
he asked in exasperation. “Why would I even think to tell you that I know him? Did
you expect me to provide you a list of every person I’ve ever met in my entire life?
You didn’t seem all that interested in me; why would you care about my association
with Pezz?”

“Why
wouldn’t
you tell me about your association with Gerard Pezzati? After all, I told you that—”
I stopped as gears began to turn, making clunky connections in my head. I straightened,
in delayed realization. “No, I didn’t tell you,” I said softly. Almost to myself.
“Did I?”

Adam didn’t answer. He pulled in his bottom lip and chewed on it. He crossed his arms
and regarded me with narrowed eyes. “What am I missing?” he finally asked.

I held up a hand, asking him to wait, then covered my eyes as I tried to replay our
interactions on board the plane, in the waiting room afterward, even when Adam had
come to visit. I’d never mentioned the Pezzati family. To Detective Williamson, yes,
but that was in my debriefing. Private. When Bennett and I had talked about the Pezzatis,
it had been quietly, away from the others.

I raised my head, meeting Adam’s watchful eyes. He was waiting for me to explain.
I brought my hand to my mouth. “You didn’t know about our visit to Nico Pezzati’s
villa in Florence, did you?”

He shook his head slowly, hands spread. “Who is Nico?”

I took a deep breath. Gerard Pezzati must have taken advantage of Adam and SlickBlade
without their knowledge. I still couldn’t figure out how the younger Pezzati had engineered
Pinky’s place on board the plane, but it was becoming evident that Adam had had nothing
to do with it. “I owe you an apology.”

“That’s the best thing I’ve heard since I got here.”

We needed to talk. Not standing here in the middle of a busy sidewalk, either. My
guard still wasn’t dropped enough for me to invite him back to my house. “Let’s hit
Hugo’s,” I said. “Your friend Jerry Pezz may have used you.”

He gave me a patently unconvinced look, but didn’t argue.

There were no open tables at Hugo’s, so we settled ourselves at the bar with a draft
beer for him and a glass of malbec for me. “Gerard Pezzati,” I said in a low voice,
“is the estranged son of Nico Pezzati, formerly of the United States, but now living
in Italy.”

Adam took a long drink of his beer, wiping a bit of the foam mustache before answering.
“Jerry mentioned some family issues. He doesn’t talk about it much. I get the feeling
he’s been hurt pretty badly.”

“The way I hear it, it’s the other way around. Did you ever ask how he got started?
Why he refuses to talk to his father?”

“Doesn’t sound like the Jerry I know, but it’s none of my business.”

“Could he be scamming you?”

Adam threw back his head to laugh. “You don’t know Jerry at all, do you?”

I didn’t answer.

He covered his mouth with his hand, and consulted the clock on his cell phone. “I
know he had some family thing to go to tonight. Kid’s dance recital or something.
I don’t want to bug him.”

“Family?” I asked. “Kids?”

“Yeah,” Adam said with a glint in his eye. “I think maybe you’ve got the wrong guy.
You think maybe there are two Gerard Pezzatis out there? Stranger things have happened.”

My brain whirled, making me dizzy. And it wasn’t from the three sips of wine I’d had.
“It can’t be. Gerard Pezzati turned his back on his father years ago. He hasn’t even
tried to contact the man for fourteen years.”

“Tell you what,” Adam said, “Let’s clear this up once and for all. Let’s meet tomorrow—you
and I—and I’ll put you on the phone with Jerry. He can tell you if he’s the guy you’re
looking for. If he is, you can ask him whatever’s on your mind. If he’s not—well,
I guess that means you and I have a chance to be friends then, don’t we?”

I studied his face for signs of duplicity. Couldn’t find any. I’d been fooled by an
attractive face before, however, and I wasn’t about to walk into a trap, no matter
how unlikely such a prospect seemed. “Meet you tomorrow?” I repeated slowly, wary
again now. “Where?”

He’d lifted his glass, but stopped it halfway to his lips. “My suggestion makes you
nervous. Am I still so frightening to you?”

I wasn’t about to explain the reason for my caution. Too much had gone on in recent
months to naively accept whatever strangers swore was true.

“I have a meeting tomorrow,” I said, making it up on the spot. “Can I call you in
the morning to arrange a time and place? Would that work?”

“Done.” He took a swig of his beer.

With our agreement sealed, he relaxed, visibly. His smile was genuine, his body language
open. “Interestingly enough,” I said, “I’m meeting with Gerard’s father and sister
tomorrow. They’re visiting Marshfield.”

His brows came together. “What are the chances of that?” he asked rhetorically. A
moment later, he thrust his chin up, eyes taking on a calculating air. “That’s a pretty
big coincidence, is it?”

I sipped my wine and didn’t answer.

• • •

“WHAT HAPPENED?”

“Who was that guy?”

“Why were you arguing with him?”

Bruce’s and Scott’s questions made it through the back door and into our kitchen before
they did.

Bootsie dove off my lap and bounded to greet them as I stood. “Busy night at the shop,
huh? Sorry for causing a scene.”

Scott waved off my apology. “You provided entertainment. Those flowers he came in
with were stunning.” He looked around the room. “Where are they?”

“Gave them away.”

I explained over our evening snack. Today it was cheese, strawberries, and chocolate.
A perfectly sweet ending to a day laced with sour notes.

“What do you hope to accomplish by talking with this Gerard?” Bruce asked.

“At a minimum, I hope to ensure we’ve got the right Pezzati.”

Bruce shuddered. “Wouldn’t that be a mess if you didn’t?”

“I don’t want to think about it,” I said. “Assuming we do have the right man, I think
I’ll learn a lot by talking with him. He’s far enough away that he can’t hurt me,
so a little poking and prodding won’t get me into trouble this time. I have no idea
what kind of link I expect to find between him and Pinky, but I know it’s there.”

“Be careful, Grace.” Bruce said.

“I always am.”

Scott wagged a finger. “And we’ve all seen where that gets you.”

THE NEXT MORNING, I SAT AT MY DESK,
thinking about how disappointed Frances would be when she found out I intended to
talk with the elusive Gerard Pezzati on the phone. Our short-lived plans to visit
New York City had evaporated with Adam’s suggestion.

I’d gotten in early this morning to get a jump on what promised to be a hectic day,
but I took a moment to stare out my windows at the gardens below. Jack had been instrumental
in bringing the grounds to the exquisite level they now were. Too bad he hadn’t devoted
that level of attention to his personal relationships.

He seemed to be making a genuine effort to change the way he interacted with others.
After all he’d gone through in his life, however, it would be a difficult process.
I thought about the family’s now-rocky relationship with their father. I thought about
Gerard and how that father-son relationship seemed to have been tainted from the start.
Such a shame. So much loss. On both sides of the Atlantic.

My desk phone jangled. Bennett.

“How are our weary travelers?” I asked when I picked up. “I take it they’re sleeping?”

Bennett sighed, deeply. “Irena is here by herself. Nico couldn’t make the trip after
all. At the last minute, he ran a fever and his doctors wouldn’t allow him to travel,
fearing pneumonia. Irena said that she would have preferred to stay home with him
while he recuperated, but he’s adamant about getting this matter settled.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “Although . . .”

“What’s on your mind?”

I scratched my cheek, thinking. “Does she still plan on confronting Gerard? Signor
Pezzati wanted a face-off with his son. Is Irena planning to follow through with that?”

“She hasn’t indicated otherwise. Why?”

“Irena told me that she and Gerard stay in contact, despite the fact that the son
wants nothing to do with his father. I may be in contact with Gerard later today.
I’m wondering if there might be a chance to bring them together.”

Bennett was silent for a thoughtful moment. “Taking the bull by the horns, eh, Gracie?
I see where you’re going with this. You want answers about Pinky and you think that
by being a fly on the wall during what’s certain to be an emotional conflict, you
may find all you need.”

“It crossed my mind.”

“Irena is in one of the guest rooms now. As you predicted, she wanted to see the skull
photos immediately. I told her you had them in a safe place. That’s the reason for
my call. How soon can you bring them up here?”

“I’d really hoped to talk with this Gerard before meeting with Irena . . .” I let
the thought hang. “I suppose it can’t be helped. I’ll be up there—” My cell phone
rang and I glanced at the display. To Bennett I said, “Detective Williamson is calling.
Let me see what he wants, and I’ll be up there as soon as I can.”

I hung up one phone and clicked into the other.

“Ms. Wheaton,” the detective said. “I have a few questions for you.”

“Go ahead.”

“That fellow you talked about in New York with the connection to the Curling Weasels?”
It wasn’t a question, though he phrased it like one. “Gerard Pezzati, doing business
as Jerry Pezz.”

“What about him?”

“You know we’re talking preliminary fact-finding here, don’tcha? It’s not like I can
ransack the guy’s office for information.”

“I understand, Detective. Go on.”

Before he could answer, I heard the outer office door open and close. Frances was
in.

“I’m coming up empty,” he said.

“Like he doesn’t exist?”

“He exists, all right. That’s not in dispute. Thing is, I can’t tie him to our friend
Diane, aka Priscilla, the one you know as Pinky. Except for the rock band members,
I can’t tie him to any of the other names you gave me, either. You need to keep in
mind that when we’ve got an aka like this guy is, it takes a little longer to track
all connections. I haven’t given up, but it’s not looking promising.”

“You couldn’t tie Pinky to any of the members of SlickBlade either, could you?” I
asked, even though I already knew the answer. “I mean, beyond them picking her up
the night before the flight.”

“Affirmative. I’m coming up empty. Either they’re telling the truth or someone has
gone to a lot of trouble to cover up tracks. You ask me my opinion, the band’s claims
ring true. Don’t know what to tell you.”

I didn’t know whether to be elated or disappointed that Adam’s story hadn’t been shot
full of holes.

“Thanks, Detective,” I said.

“One more thing. Whatever happened to that flight attendant guy who contacted you?
The one you saw hanging around town?”

“Rudy? I asked him to come visit here at Marshfield. Never heard a word. Why? Were
you able to track anything down on him?”

“Nothing worth mentioning,” he said. “His being a foreigner complicates my investigation,
y’understand.”

I sighed.

“You have a nice day, ma’am. I’ll be in touch.”

• • •

THE MOMENT THEO SHOWED ME INTO BENNETT’S
STUDY, IRENA JUMPED TO HER FEET, crossing the room in the time it took me to shift
the file folder from my hands to snugging it under one arm. She grasped me by my shoulders
and kissed me on both cheeks. “So wonderful to see you again, my friend,” she said
with a warm smile. She glanced back toward Bennett, who, gentleman that he was, had
also risen to greet me.

“How was your flight?” I asked.

Bennett returned to his seat in a wing chair while Irena and I sat together on the
adjacent divan. Theo hovered. “May I offer you coffee, Ms. Wheaton? Some other beverage?”

Neither Bennett nor Irena had any cups or glasses nearby. “No, thank you, Theo.”

The butler turned to Bennett. “Anything else at this time?”

“Thank you, no.” Bennett gave a vague wave. “Who comes in for dinner?”

“That would be Thomas, sir. With you having a guest in residence, I can stay longer
today, if you like.”

“I believe we can muddle through until Thomas gets here.”

Theo nodded. “Very good, sir.”

The moment he was gone, I turned to Irena. “How’s your father? I understand he had
a relapse.”

She gave me a sad smile. “It is very difficult to watch such a vibrant man lose his
strength so quickly.” Pointing to a cell phone she’d placed on the low table between
us, she asked, “You will not think me rude if I keep this nearby? A nurse is stationed
there and will let me know if there are any changes in his condition. Angelo promised
updates as well.” She rolled her eyes. “For all his ignorance, he is devoted to my
father. I cannot abide the man, yet he is there and I am not. I have no choice but
to trust him.”

Bennett reached forward, giving Irena’s knee an avuncular pat. “Your father is strong.
I believe he’ll come through this.”

Irena’s eyes teared up. “I don’t know what I would do without him. If he were to die,
I would have nothing.”

Hoping to lessen her melancholy by working together on proving that the skull was
replaced, I set the file folder on the table. “Then let’s get started.”

Irena nodded and scooched forward to get a good look at the photos I’d brought upstairs.
“I am hoping there has been some mistake and that the skull—one of my father’s prized
possessions—has not been stolen.”

I opened the folder. “You can keep these,” I said as she leaned over the black-and-white
prints.

Bennett tapped a finger on one of them. “If we had the skull here, we’d be able to
compare—”

“But the skull
is
here,” she said, sitting up. “I brought it along. Father insisted. Let me get it.”
She hurried out of the room, talking over her shoulder. “He said that it’s worthless
anyway, so what harm was there in my bringing it.”

When she returned with the skull in hand, she was still talking. I wondered if she’d
stopped while she was out of earshot. “Father wanted you to see it for yourself, Mr.
Marshfield,” she said, placing it in his lap. “He’s depending on you to sign an affidavit
for the insurance company.”

Bennett hefted the sculpture, examining it head-on before turning it over to check
again for the tell-tale mark, explaining what it should look like and where it should
be as he did so.

“Such wonderful adventures you and my father shared.”

“I’m relieved to know this was insured,” he said. A look of longing came across his
features. “But the loss of the real skull is beyond tragic. So rare is it that an
item is priceless in both monetary and sentimental value.” He blinked away his sadness
and returned to the business at hand. “Of course I’ll be happy to do whatever I can
to see that your father is reimbursed. I know how much paperwork is ahead of him.”

Irena grimaced. “Tell me about it. An extremely valuable piece of jewelry went missing
several years ago. Father noticed it immediately. He contacted the authorities as
well as our insurer. It was horrible. They all swarmed in and treated us like criminals—as
though we’d stolen it ourselves.” She shuddered.

“Was the piece ever recovered?” I asked.

She shook her head sadly. “We learned our lesson. Ever since then, Father has insisted
on a full inventory once a year.”

“Who’s in charge of the inventory?” I asked.

“Angelo.” She made a face. “He must be behind this forgery. I can’t imagine how else
it could have been accomplished.”

Bennett placed the skull on the table between us, then leaned back, steepling his
fingers in front of his lips. “Angelo didn’t strike me as a world-class collector.
If he is responsible for this theft, he must have connections in the industry.”

“Cesare?” I asked, thinking of the Poirot-looking man we’d met at the Pezzati home.
“Could he and Angelo be working together?”

She gave a very Italian shrug. “I am here only to enlist your help.” She bounced a
glance between us. “To ask opinions from both of you.”

“Whatever we can do,” Bennett said.

She leaned forward, separating the pictures with the tips of her fingers. “These are
the originals, yes?” she asked.

“No, I have those in my office. Although they’re still in decent shape, we thought
it would be best to keep them safe. I made these copies for you. You’re welcome to
take them.”

She nodded, gathering them up and tapping them on the low table, making their edges
even. “I assume the insurer will need the originals.”

Bennett agreed. “We will be happy to turn them over when the time comes.”

“Thank you both, so very much,” she said. “I’m sure our insurer will be in touch soon.
That is all right with you?”

We assured her that it was.

“Wonderful. I am heartbroken that this happened to my father, but he is truly fortunate
to have such good friends.”

Her cell phone chirped. She scooped up the device and examined the text message. “My
father is resting comfortably,” she said, “but I wish to return home as soon as possible
to help care for him. I will leave this evening, as soon as I confirm my plane is
ready for the return trip.”

“Whatever is best for you,” Bennett told her. “But it would be a delight to me if
you were able to stay for dinner.”

She got up and kissed him on one wrinkled cheek. “Of course.”

Her phone went off again, this time with a ringtone that signaled an incoming call.
She took a look at the display and frowned. Tapping the screen, she silenced the device
then glanced up at both of us with ill-concealed anger.

“Something wrong?” Bennett asked.

“My brother calling. I told him of our father’s illness, yet he still refuses to see
him.” She shook her head, fuming. “I will return the call later. Let him wait.”

“Your father believes Gerard is behind the thefts,” Bennett said.

She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know what to think. I prefer to let the authorities
sort everything out. And that is what they will do once they have all the evidence.”

“You don’t intend to confront Gerard the way your father planned to?” I asked.

“What purpose would that serve? He will deny any responsibility. If he is guilty,
he will then know we suspect him. I don’t see any good coming of such a meeting. No.
I will go home and take great pains to ensure that my father’s treasures do not disappear
out from under my nose again.”