Suspicious (On the Run) Page 3

  “I knew we shouldn’t have tried to work in the Castel Sant’Angelo.” He adjusted his cuffs and held out his arm.

  Zoe gave herself one final check in the mirror and rubbed her collarbone. “I shouldn’t have gotten so much sun today. My freckles are really popping.” She reached for her makeup bag.

  Jack crossed the room and caught her hand. “Your freckles are incredibly sexy.”

  She laughed. “No they’re not. Spotty, blotchy patches are not sexy.”

  He pulled her into his arms. “Yes they are.”

  “Then why don’t you see lots of models or actresses with freckles?”

  “Hollywood and the media are messed up.”

  “Well, that is true. I’ll give you that point, but think about it. All those statues and paintings we’ve been looking at, how many freckles did you see? None. Freckles aren’t attractive.”

  “Yes, they are.” Jack studied her face then said, “I can see I need to demonstrate. Perhaps kiss each one?”

  “Then we’ll be so late, the opening will be over.”

  “Later, then?” Jack raised an eyebrow.

  “Definitely.”

  Gray clouds slid across the sky as they emerged from the hotel, and Zoe hoped it wasn’t about to rain. If it did, the increased humidity would erase the smooth lines she’d flat-ironed into her hair and tease out her natural curls, giving her more of a Little Orphan Annie look. At least her hair was up. She’d spent half an hour twisting her hair into a soft chignon, using several strategically placed hairpins decorated with tiny navy blue beads. If the humidity did descend, at least the frizz wouldn’t be quite so noticeable.

  They took a taxi to the museum, which was located a few blocks off the Piazza del Popolo in the northwest of the city. The first raindrops spattered down as they hurried up the steps to the palazzo that had been converted to a museum. They gave their invitation to a young woman at the door with flyaway brown hair and an elfin face who was juggling a phone and a clipboard while she kept reaching up to adjust an earpiece that continually slipped out of her ear. “Oh, Mr. Throckmorton is waiting for you. This way, please.” She guided them through the grand entrance hall to a gallery that ran around a central courtyard. Weathered statues, most of them missing limbs, and often their heads as well, lined the interior wall.

  “See—zero freckles,” Zoe said softly.

  Jack raised an eyebrow languidly. “Their loss.”

  Their escort said, “This is the end of the exhibit, the last room, but Mr. Throckmorton said to bring you directly here.” They entered the spacious room with mosaics on the floor and a heavy wood-beamed ceiling. Partial frescoes of rural scenes decorated the walls and more statues ranged around the edges of the room, but it was the jewels displayed in the center of the room that had everyone’s attention.

  Zoe could see why they would save these pieces for last. The gems glittered and sparkled. The contrast of their modern craftsmanship—relatively speaking—against the ancient art of the statues, frescoes, and mosaics only emphasized their sophisticated beauty.

  Harrington saw them and moved across the room. He was also looking distinguished in a tuxedo. “Thank you, Amy,” he said to the young woman and she left, hastily grabbing her earpiece as it slipped again.

  “My new assistant.” He winced as Amy narrowly avoided a collision with a waiter holding a tray of appetizers. He turned to them and shook hands with Jack. “Good to see you. And you look lovely.” He kissed Zoe’s cheek, and she almost made a quip about not being too sweaty for a kiss, but stopped herself. They weren’t supposed to have met for a year. She thanked him instead.

  A handsome man in his thirties with black hair threaded with silver at the temples, black eyes, and a roguish smile joined their group, his gaze fixed on Zoe. “Harrington, is this the lovely creature who rescued your piece that had gone missing?”

  “Yes, we are indebted to Mrs. Andrews. Carlo Goccetto, head of Millbank and Proust’s European region,” Harrington said as he introduced them, and Zoe didn’t miss the significant glance that passed between Jack and Harrington while Carlo kissed the back of her hand.

  Zoe disengaged her hand from his slightly damp palm. “And this is my husband, Jack.”

  Carlo flicked a glance at Jack. “Delighted.”

  “Both Mr. and Mrs. Andrews played a vital role in the return,” Harrington said, giving the titles a slight emphasis, which Carlo either completely missed or ignored.

  “Have you seen the exhibit, yet?” Carlo asked Zoe.

  “No. We just arrived.”

  “May I?”

  Zoe opened her mouth to refuse, but Jack cut her off. “Go ahead, I’ll catch up. I need to make a phone call.”

  Zoe sent Jack a dark glance as Carlo extended his elbow. Jack leaned in and whispered, “I know you can handle him. Find out what you can.”

  As Carlo pulled her away, she looked over her shoulder and mouthed, “You owe me.” They moved through the chain of rooms to the beginning of the exhibit, then they retraced their steps, looking at coiled gold Minoan earrings, Greek cameos, bracelets from Pompeii, and rough gold crosses. Zoe admired the pieces, and Carlo told her interesting stories about some of the jewelry.

  “Did you know Caesar was obsessed with pearls?” he asked as they looked at a large pink-tinted pearl.

  “No,” Zoe said, using the excuse of leaning closer to the case to wiggle her hand free of his arm, but he adjusted his stance, moved with her, and kept her hand firmly tucked into the crook of his elbow.

  “He even had a law passed to prevent anyone from owning pearls except the aristocracy.”

  Zoe murmured an appropriate reply, and he towed her along to the next room. “They’re all so beautiful,” Zoe said as they moved by the heavy medieval pieces to more delicate Renaissance jewelry studded with gems. “Can you imagine having one of these?”

  His mouth curved down into a frown. “Too much trouble,” he said quietly. “Believe me, I know. The insurance, the security. No, I enjoy them, but I would not want to own any of these jewels.”

  “Even the Flawless Set?” Zoe asked, hoping she wasn’t being too obvious.

  “Ah, that would be the worst of all,” he said. “The notoriety alone…” he trailed off, squeezing her hand tighter to his side. “No, I prefer other things of beauty.”

  Zoe was glad to see they were almost back to the last room where Jack was moving through the crowd toward them. As they entered the final room again, Harrington’s assistant, Amy, careened through the doorway and ran directly into Zoe, knocking her back against the doorframe.

  “Oh! I am so sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Zoe felt her upswept hair slip to the nape of her neck and looked down to see several of the beaded hairpins on the mosaic floor.

  “I’m so, so sorry.” Amy flushed and scrambled on the floor for the pins, turning an even deeper crimson when she saw Carlo glowering at her as he knelt down to help her.

  “Nothing that can’t be fixed.” Zoe took the pins from Amy’s shaking hand and Carlo’s slightly damp palm, thinking that it was too bad she couldn’t thank the girl for giving her the perfect excuse to ditch Carlo. Zoe stopped Amy in mid-apology, told her with a significant look at Carlo that it was nothing to worry about, and left for the restroom.

  “Learn anything?” Jack asked when she joined him later. He removed disks of deep-fried bread topped with dollops of buffalo mozzarella and a basil leaf off a tray and handed one to her.

  “Only that he has excellent triceps muscles.”

  Jack did a double take.

  “He kept my arm pinned to his side the whole time.”

  “I see.”

  They spent the rest of the evening in the final gallery surrounded by the exquisite jewelry, and even though it was almost two hours, Zoe wasn’t bored. She admired the jewelry, especially the Flawless Set. The diamonds flashed and glittered under the lights. The necklace was the most spectacular of the three pieces, a string of graduated round-c
ut diamonds that began small, about the size of a pea, at the clasp and gradually increased in size to the largest stones in the front, which were bigger than Zoe’s thumbnail. Zoe walked slowly around the necklace, amazed at how large even the small stones were. Then she looked at the matching bracelet, a single string of diamonds, as well as the earrings, which were two medium round-cut earrings in simple settings. It was the most popular piece and people invariably entered the room and moved directly to it.

  “What do you think?” purred a voice behind her shoulder. “Beautiful, no?”

  Zoe shifted so that Carlo was not directly behind her. He was slightly shorter than Zoe was, and his hot breath doused her shoulder. Unlike the pleasant shivers Jack’s breath on her bare skin had given her earlier, this guy’s panting made her long for a cocktail napkin.

  “Yes, they are gorgeous,” she agreed. She looked back, expecting to find him staring at her as he had during their tour of the exhibit, but now he fixed his gaze on the Flawless Set. So much for not wanting it, Zoe thought. The guy was all but drooling.

  “A few people do not like it,” he said. “They say the design, the setting, is too simple, that it is crude, even boring. What do you think?”

  “I think the stones are so beautiful that they don’t need elaborate settings or extra gems to enhance them.”

  He dragged his gaze away from the stones to her face. “Exactly. Yes, that is it. You put it so well. There is a painting—very fine—in the gallery upstairs. Perhaps I could show you…”

  “Oh, my husband wants me. Excuse me,” she said, extracting her hand from his sweaty grip.

  Jack was busy, keeping an eye on things while seeming to be doing nothing else except to stroll around the room. He was good at that—appearing completely relaxed on the surface, but being on high alert underneath. She joined him. As they admired a statue twisted into what looked to be a truly painful position, Jack said, “What do you think of him?”

  “Carlo?”

  Jack raised an eyebrow.

  “Well, what else am I supposed to call him? Mr. Goccetto?”

  “It would make me feel better, yes. He seems quite the ladies’ man.”

  “He’s got sweaty palms and is more interested in the diamonds than any woman in the room.”

  Jack looked happier as they went to look at a floor mosaic. Zoe had been fascinated with mosaics ever since she toured Pompeii, and there were some fine examples fitted into the floor of the room. Zoe studied the scene of gladiators fighting while Jack appeared to be doing the same, but he was keeping an eye on the people moving through the room.

  A thin blond woman in her mid-forties with an air of energy barely under control announced it was time for the conclusion of the “Be Flawless” fundraising campaign. She made the announcement in a crisp upper crust English accent then repeated it in Italian and German. At least that’s what it sounded like to Zoe. The blond woman drew a name from a crystal bowl, and a well-preserved brunette was allowed to wear the Flawless Set, minus the bracelet because the clasp broke as Harrington tried to put it on the lucky lady. But the winner didn’t seem to mind too much. She kept running her hand over the necklace and fingering the earrings.

  She had her photo taken and mingled with uniformed security officers following a pace behind her. Jack watched everything with a lazy posture and sharp eyes. Zoe was sure there were more security guards in tuxedos as well. After the winner circled the room and multiple photos were taken, Harrington removed the necklace and earrings and placed them on their black velvet display beside the bracelet.

  All eyes were on the jewels as the transfer was made until the clatter of shattering glass jerked everyone’s attention to the back of the room where a flushed waiter was already scrambling to clean up his dropped tray.

  Zoe looked back toward Harrington and saw that the jewels were in place and the glass case was being lowered over them. One of the worker’s hands slipped, and he bumped the case, knocking the jewels out of their velvet indentations. Harrington quickly replaced them. “No harm done,” he said. “Slowly, this time.”

  The glass was positioned and secured with screws as another man with a laptop approached. Zoe assumed he was checking those mysterious “other security protocols” that Harrington hadn’t been able to discuss with them. Jack had told her that displays often had sensors or pressure plates installed to prevent theft.

  The energetic trilingual woman swept in front of the jewels with a rustle of silk, the folds of her one-shoulder black mermaid gown flickering around her feet. She made her announcement, again in three languages. “As a finale this evening, we are pleased to present the Millbank and Proust Award to two people who provided a great service to the arts. It was through their actions that a priceless masterpiece was preserved and returned to its rightful owner. ” Amy, her earpiece still slipping, appeared at the woman’s elbow with a wooden plaque. Without glancing at her, the woman took it and swept an arm toward Jack and Zoe as she announced their names.

  They made their way through the crowd, and a smattering of applause briefly filled the room. Jack murmured, “Harrington didn’t say we’d have to speak.”

  “We’ll wing it.”

  They accepted the award, shook hands, deposited air kisses, and then everyone looked to Jack for a few words. He looked back, a smile on his face, but Zoe saw the tension in his hands as he gripped the plaque, his knuckles going white. He glanced at her, and she said thank you in three languages. “And that is all we can say. That is the extent of my German,” she said with a shrug.

  The audience laughed and the blond woman thanked everyone for coming. Jack handed Zoe the plaque. It was about an inch and a half thick and had a shiny metal plate affixed to the front with an engraving that proclaimed they had provided valuable assistance to Millbank and Proust, as well as the artistic community. “Well done. My mind went completely blank. They liked you.”

  “Oh, they were just glad they didn’t have to listen to a speech,” Zoe said as the woman in the mermaid dress moved to their elbow.

  She said, “So sorry we did not meet earlier. I am Melissa Davray.”

  Harrington appeared as well. “Melissa is our managing director,” Harrington said as if he hadn’t briefed them on Melissa earlier. Zoe tried not to gawk. Could this impeccably groomed and obviously successful woman possibly be a jewel thief? Diamond accented combs held her elaborate updo in place so she must not be short of funds herself. Why would she risk everything? Zoe’s gaze strayed to the Flawless Set. It was beautifully spectacular. Of course, she couldn’t picture the damp-palmed Carlo carrying out a robbery either.

  Jack was no longer tongue-tied and smoothly thanked her for the award and the opportunity to attend the opening.

  “You are most welcome.” Melissa turned to Zoe, the translucent skin at the corners of her almond shaped eyes wrinkling as she smiled. “It is an event that appeals more to women than to men, I think. All women love bling, as you say in the States, I believe.”

  “I certainly enjoyed the bling,” Zoe said.

  “Oh, there is someone I must speak with,” she said and was off before anyone could say anything else.

  Harrington watched her go. “I do wonder sometimes if she actually sleeps. She’s always on the move. Doesn’t even use her office chair.” Now that the cover was secured over the jewels, he looked more relaxed.

  He extended a hand to Jack with a barely noticeable tilt of his head to the Flawless Set. “Thank you for everything. Perhaps we could meet for lunch tomorrow?”

  They agreed on a restaurant, and Zoe and Jack joined the crowd exiting the building. Thunder rumbled and rain spattered them as they climbed into another taxi. “Well, that was anticlimactic,” Zoe said. “No smash and grab, no theft, no excitement at all.”

  “Anticlimactic is good,” Jack said. “Especially in the security business.” He ran his arm along the backseat of the taxi and turned to her. “Now we have a pressing matter to discuss. Freckles.”

 
***

  “Odd that Harrington didn’t show up,” Zoe said as they climbed the stairs to their hotel room the next day. They’d spent the morning meandering through the streets with no agenda or tourist site on their program, except for lunch with Harrington. They’d waited an hour at the pizzeria that he and Jack had agreed on, again, a few blocks from the Pantheon, but he hadn’t arrived. After trying several appetizers while they waited, they’d finally decided he must have been delayed and split a pizza dotted with milky buffalo mozzarella and disks of Roma tomatoes.

  “Yes, he’s usually so reliable.” Jack pulled his phone from his pocket.

  Zoe unlocked their door. “Still nothing?”

  “No. I’ll try him again. He always calls back.”

  Zoe tossed the key on the dresser and set down their single souvenir purchase, a line drawing of the Spanish Steps, which they’d climbed earlier that day. They had begun at the crush around the unpretentious, almost whimsical, boat-like fountain at the base, stopped at the pink house on the right, where Keats lived and died, then scaled the wide marble steps that split and wrapped around to a high terrace with another obelisk. Harrington’s brochure informed them the obelisk was a Roman replica with some funky errors in the hieroglyphs that had been copied from the obelisk in the nearby Piazza del Popolo.

  Zoe pulled out a change of clothes and headed for the bathroom. “I’m taking a shower.” The morning tour of Rome had been wonderful, but she was sticky and hot. Jack nodded as he dialed.

  She luxuriated in the cool spray. They had air conditioning in their room, but it wasn’t like the frigid central air she was used to in Texas. As she stepped out of the shower, she heard voices in their room, a tenor to the counterpoint of Jack’s baritone.

  She caught a few words. Harrington’s name was mentioned along with what sounded like the words “jewelry” and “fake.”

  With her towel still wrapped around her, she leaned her ear against the door.