Meet Me in Venice (30 page)

“How could I not?” she said.

“And what’s
your
disguise?”

“You’ll have to wait and see. I’ll meet you at the Palazzo,” she said, and rang off.

Her phone rang again immediately. She didn’t answer. After a few minutes though, curiosity got the better of her and she listened to the message.

“Rafferty, where the fuck are you?” Sam yelled. “Your aunts told me what happened. Are you completely out of your mind? I’ve tried and tried to call you and now I’m in the middle of the lagoon on my way over to the Piazza San Marco. I
know
you’re there. Call me. And don’t do anything even dumber than what you already have.”

He was in Venice.
“Don’t do anything dumber!” he’d said. Like meet
you,
she thought. Sam had the knack of rubbing her the wrong way. It would almost be soothing to be back in Bennett’s company. At least he’d always been nice to her. Before he dumped her, that is.

B
ENNETT
paced the alley that ran down the side of the Palazzo Rendino, linking the small cobbled square with the canal. Music blared from the open windows and lanterns glimmered in the fog that hovered like a gray cloak, just inches above the water. Every now and again party boats and gondolas filled with drunken young people burst through the mist in a shout of noise and laughter. Everyone was masked, everyone was anonymous. It could not have been a more perfect setup for what he wanted to do.

His costume was based on the outfits worn by the doctors who’d tended the plague victims in the great epidemic that swept Venice in the Middle Ages, and he also carried the “plague stick,” a rod they had used to touch their patients when they were examining them, in order to avoid catching the disease. Except Bennett’s stick was heavier,
though playfully disguised with pretty ribbons. It was not so different from the one he’d used when he killed his wife, Ana, and then Lily.

He glanced at his watch. It had been almost an hour since he’d spoken to Preshy. He was anxious for her to get there.

THE PIAZZA SAN MARCO WAS
erupting with a surging mass of dancing people. A stage had been erected for the band and the sound of trumpets blared from massive speakers, echoing off the old walls. The entire city was partying in the grand piazzas, and at the palaces and on their boats.

But the narrow side streets leading off were empty. The shops and restaurants were closed and the fog swirled like cotton wool, pressing so close to Preshy’s face she could hardly see a foot in front of her. Her gorgeous wedding cape billowed behind as she hurried on, the low heels of her slouchy black boots ringing on the cobbles. After a few minutes she stopped and looked around. She saw only anonymous gray walls, padded with fog. She didn’t recall coming this way before, but tonight everything looked different, as though Venice itself was wearing a disguise. There were no party goers here and, nervous, she hurried on. Surely she would come to a landmark soon, a caffè, a shop she knew.

As she crossed a tiny stone bridge she heard footsteps behind her. Suddenly a Plague Doctor burst from the fog, followed by half a dozen other masked men and women. He brandished his stick at her, and terrified, she cried out, but their laughter only mocked her as they ran off again.

Less sure now that she had made the right decision, she wished she had asked Sam to come with her. Taking her phone from her jeans pocket, she dialed his number. He answered immediately.

“Please tell me where you are,” he said. “I’m begging you, Rafferty, just tell me.”

“I’m on my way to the Palazzo Rendino. I’m supposed to meet Bennett there. There’s a Carnevale ball. He’s wearing a plague doctor costume with a white mask. I thought it would be all right, but now I’m scared.”

Suddenly, at the end of the alley, she spotted the familiar square. “I’m here,” she said, as relief made her realize how frightened she had really been. “I’ll be okay now, it’s just that I got frightened, alone in the back streets.”

“Stay right there!” Sam ordered. “Wait for me. And Rafferty . . . whatever you do, do
not
talk to Bennett. Do not go anywhere near him. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said in a small voice, as he rang off.

Sam’s phone rang at once. It was Grizelda. “Where are you?” she demanded.

“On my way to the Palazzo Rendino, she’s meeting Bennett there.”

“Not without me, she’s not,” Grizelda snapped, and rang off.

Preshy hesitated in a corner of the little piazza. She was wondering what her next move should be when she felt a pair of arms snake round her and breathed the familiar smell of Bennett’s cologne. “There you are, my lovely Preshy,” he whispered in her ear. “At last.”

She swung round in his arms—and looked into the terrifying
white mask of the Plague Doctor. But it was Bennett’s fierce blue eyes blazing at her from behind it, Bennett’s voice saying how happy he was to see her, Bennett telling her she was so good to come here, allowing him to explain like this . . . and that he could explain everything, and he would take good care of her, protect her from Lily’s killer.

Hypnotized, she stared back at him.

“You look so beautiful,” he said, “even though you’re masked, I recognized you by your walk.” Her hood fell back and he put up his hand and touched her golden cap of hair. “But you cut off your hair,” he said, sounding sorrowful. “It was the first thing I noticed about you. Remember I told you, Preshy?”

She stared at him, like a small animal caught in the headlights of his eyes. Music filtering from the Palazzo buzzed in her ears. It was as though she were not herself, not really there, that this was some other woman listening to Bennett, falling under his spell all over again.

In the back of her mind she heard Daria’s voice.
“Thirty ‘Pity Days,‘ ”
it said.
“Thirty day when you can cry and moan.
. . .
and then it’s all over . . . . Move forward . . . A new life ahead . . .”
And she heard Sam telling her she wasn’t a Precious.
“You’re definitely a Rafferty,” he’d said. She was strong, she was a new woman. She was herself, and she was no longer Bennett’s puppet.

She jerked out of his arms. “Tell me what you brought me here for. And make it good, Bennett, because I don’t trust you. I want to know exactly why you left me at the altar. And I want to know who killed Lily. Tell me the truth about yourself. Explain it all to me. I’m listening.”

A flower-filled launch blasted its horn as it sailed by. The party-goers tooted their blowers at them, but Bennett ignored them, his eyes still fixed on hers.

“I’ll tell you exactly why I’m here,” he said in that soft persuasive tone he’d always used with her. “Of course I love you, I told you that, and that I was ashamed. And I’ll tell you about Lily. But first, you have something I need.”

Suddenly, he grabbed her gold cape, throwing it back, staring at her neck as though expecting to see something. Then “Tell me where the necklace is,” he said, still in an oh-so-quiet voice that sent chills down Preshy’s spine.

Frightened, she took a step back. Of course! That was why he wanted her to come to Venice. He thought she had the priceless necklace.
Oh God, Oh God,
and fool that she was, she had fallen for it! She wondered desperately where Sam was. She glanced quickly round the deserted piazza, looking for an escape. The Palazzo and its party goers were so close, but they might have been a million miles away for all the good they were to her now.

“I don’t have the necklace,” she said, stalling for time.

“Yes you do. I
know
Lily gave it to you.” He put his arms round her again, holding her in a grip so tight this time she couldn’t move. “It’s for us, Preshy,” he said. “I have a buyer for it. We’ll be rich and I can marry you without shaming you. All I’m asking you to do is tell me where it is.”

“It’s in my room at the
pensioned
she lied. Then immediately wished she hadn’t because if they went to the
pensione
then Sam would never find her. And she couldn’t telephone him.
Where, oh
where
was he?

Bennett grabbed her hand. “We’ll take a boat there,” he said, and dragging her with him, he walked to the steps leading to the canal. Spotting an approaching empty gondola, he let go of her hand for a second to flag it down. Preshy didn’t know how, but in that instant it was as though she flew from him. With her cape billowing behind her like wings, she was racing up the alley and past the Palazzo.

She kept on running down dark silent alleys. The fog pressed against her eyes. She could barely see. Out of breath, she had to stop. And then she heard footsteps.

She turned, running alongside the canal now, retracing her path. She
had
to meet Sam at the Palazzo. It was her only chance. But now she was lost again. And were Bennett’s footsteps in front of her? Or behind?

The lights of the Palazzo glimmered suddenly from the fog, and with a thankful cry she ran toward it.

Bennett darted from the alley. He got her in an arm lock, pressing against her throat.

She was choking, gasping for breath, her eyes bugged from her head. He was talking to her again, and the evil words just seemed to erupt out of him, telling her the truth finally.

“I felt
nothing
for you, Precious,” he said.
“Nothing at all.
Of course I wanted your money, but I planned to kill Grizelda first to make sure you got it. Then I would have killed you. Grizelda managed to escape, but anyway when I found that she wasn’t leaving you her money and there was no paycheck, I walked. You are a meaningless woman, Preshy,” he said in the low, smooth silken tone. “Just like all the others. You don’t count in life. You offer nothing, just another scrap of DNA swept away in a canal.
Your only value is that necklace. Now be a good girl, Preshy, and tell me where the
pensione
is, and where you’ve hidden the necklace. Or I’ll kill you right now.”

Bennett’s words fell on her like blows. All her past beautiful dreams lay in ruins. There was nothing left to grieve for except her own selfish stupidity. He had never loved her. He didn’t even hate her. She was nothing to him. He had killed Lily. And now he was going to kill her.

Anger hit her in a shot of adrenaline. She was damned if she was going to die. But she wasn’t strong enough to fight him off and escape. She had to think quickly. If she told him where the necklace was he would kill her. And if she didn’t tell, he would kill her anyway. Panicked, she struggled to get free but his arm tightened on her throat so she couldn’t even scream. She heard footsteps approaching, the feminine clack of high heels trotting along the alley in back of them.

Bennett heard it too. He turned his head for a split second . . . and found himself looking at a gun.

Aunt G stood there, wrapped in her second-best mink, the dark blue sheared one, holding what looked to Preshy like a pearl-handled revolver. Mimi was next to her, all in white and silver, her blond hair glittering with fog drops, looking like an avenging Valkyrie. The pair were like something out of a sixties James Bond movie.

Grizelda’s voice had a slight quaver to it as she said, “Let go of my niece at once or I shall shoot you.”

“Go ahead. Shoot.” Bennett had Preshy positioned in front of him, her arms pinned behind her. “Though why you want to shoot me I don’t know. I was just telling your niece how much I loved her.
I apologized to her and explained what happened. All she has to do is tell me where the necklace is and then she’s yours.”

Peering into the shadows beyond him, Mimi stalled for time. “What necklace?” she demanded.

But Bennett saw where her gaze went. He turned to look, just as Sam launched himself at him. He let go of Preshy and she hit the ground with a thud, with Bennett on top of her and Sam on top of Bennett. Grizelda ran to them, still waving the gun and Mimi shrieked for help.

Preshy wasn’t sure what happened next. Flattened, with her face in the cobblestones and all the breath knocked out of her, she heard shouts that somehow were mixed up with music, and the sound of running feet.
And then a shot.

Oh My God. Aunt Grizelda had killed him.

She got to her feet and saw Grizelda staring at the smoking gun in her hand, and Mimi with her hands over her ears, screaming, and Sam running after Bennett.

He’d reached the canal, but Sam was right behind him. An empty party boat waited, moored to the blue-striped pole at the Palazzo’s embarcadero. Bennett jumped for it, caught his foot on the edge and slipped and fell, cracking his head on the striped pole. He staggered to his feet, swayed, then with a splash, fell backward into the water.

Preshy ran with the others to the canal. The cold black water rippled gently. The gray fog pressed down on it like a shroud. There was no sign of Bennett. It was the perfect accident.

I
shot him,” Aunt Grizelda said in a trembly voice.

“You didn’t shoot Bennett, Grizelda, you shot me.” Sam took off his jacket and pointed to the blood slowly oozing from his arm.

Grizelda clapped a shocked hand to her mouth. “Oh, I’m
so
sorry. Oscar always said I was a terrible shot and that I’d kill somebody someday.”

“But not today, thank God.” Sam looked at Preshy, still staring into the water. As though, he thought angrily, she expected Bennett to be resurrected any minute. God, would she never learn? The man had just tried to kill her.

Remembering to be gentle, even though she’d gotten them all into this mess that would now have to be played out with the police
one more time, he said, “Come on, Rafferty. Bennett’s gone, and none of us should be regretting him. I have no doubt he killed his wife, and Lily. The man was the most dangerous kind of sociopath. He would have killed anybody that got in his way.”

“I know,” Preshy said bitterly. Bennett’s words still burned, and she shook her head, trying to unremembered them. All she
should
remember was the evil that had been hidden behind those intense blue eyes and behind that soft voice that knew how to say such sweet things, and behind that charm that he’d made into an art form.