A Villa in Sicily: Orange Groves and Vengeance Page 5

  “I don’t—” She stopped, thinking of Luigi’s words. No, this man didn’t look like typical mafia from the movies. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t one. Still, the whole town was curious about the Tivoli estate’s new owners. It’d be nice to have first-hand knowledge to contribute to them. “Is this your place?”

  He nodded. “I just moved in.”

  “Oh. Well, welcome,” she said awkwardly, still unable to meet his eyes. Not only that; he seemed to radiate something, a warmth, that magnetized her. Goodness, he’s handsome.

  The farthest up she could look was at his chin. One corner of his mouth lifted up, baring a dimple. He said, “Something tells me you are not the welcoming committee. They usually come to the front door. They don’t sneak around the grounds.”

  “Oh.” Why am I saying “Oh” after everything he says? “No, I didn’t mean to be sneaking. You see, I’m the town’s veterinarian.”

  “You are?” He seemed doubtful. Of course, most people were. Audrey barely looked a day over eighteen, with her freckles and baby face. It didn’t seem possible that she could be a full-fledged doctor of veterinary medicine.

  “Yes. I am. And I received a call at my clinic. Someone said they thought an animal had been injured out here. They said to follow the trail of blood.”

  “Blood, huh?” He looked around. “Well, I haven’t seen or heard anything, and I’ve been walking about the grove all morning.”

  “Oh,” she said, grimacing when she realized she’d said “oh” again. “Well, it was probably just a crank call then. I’ll just be . . .” She pointed behind her, even though she wasn’t really sure that was the way out.

  “Who’s Nick?”

  She stared at him. What is he, a psychic?

  “You were calling for Nick,” he explained in response to her confusion.

  “Oh, uh. Nick’s my pet. A fox. He seems to have run off.”

  “Ah. I understand.” He looked around. “I don’t see him now.”

  “No. Neither do I. But he’ll find his way back eventually.”

  “You are a very compassionate woman. You like the world’s creatures, I see.”

  “Uh . . . yes. Goes with the job, I guess.”

  “Nonsense. You wouldn’t have become one if you didn’t have that special trait. It’s admirable, for you to come all this way, based on a rumor. You’re a caring soul.”

  “T-thank you,” she stammered, drawing her toe through the grass at her feet. What is wrong with me? You’d think I’d be used to dealing with handsome men, by now. Apparently not. She took a step back. “Well, it was nice meeting you. I’ll see myself . . .”

  “I don’t think we did.”

  She froze. Did what? She managed a look up at his eyes, trying to gauge his intent, but it only served to make her feel even more hypnotized by him. “I’m sorry?”

  “Meet.” He thrust a hand out to her. “I’m Rafael.”

  Rafael. It even sounded sexy. She blushed as she touched his hand, shaking just his fingertips. There was no electricity, because her hands were too slick with sweat. Also, there were probably some dead bug guts on them, as well. “Audrey. Audrey Smart.”

  “Nice to meet you. Now, we can say we have met.”

  He didn’t let go of her hand, right away. It seemed like he was lost in thought, for a moment. Audrey really hoped that this wasn’t a mistake. Best to not get wrapped up with them. Now, he knew her name.

  Oh, stop it, Audrey. He’s probably not mafia. G said it was ridiculous, that rumors like that always went around. You’re fine.

  Before he dropped her hand, he said, “Doctor Smart, I was just about to have lunch in my courtyard. Would you be interested in joining me?”

  She blinked. Her hair was in a ponytail and she was sweaty. She hadn’t been planning on a lunch date. Plus, did she really want to add to the number of times she “oh”-ed around this man? And what if he was mafia? Not to mention that she’d told Concetta she’d be back soon to relieve her.

  “Well, I should get going back to my—”

  “Ah. Stay for lunch. I know no one here, and I’m eager for the company. Just a few minutes.” He smiled. “I can drive you back to your clinic when we are done. How is that?”

  She smiled. “I guess. Sure. Thanks. Sounds great.”

  *

  After climbing a set of crumbling stone stairs, Rafael opened a rustic iron gate through an archway, leading her into a vast rectangular courtyard, filled with cypress trees and terra cotta pots filled with colorful flowers. The floor was a gleaming river stone, and there was a fountain in the center of it with a Roman statue of a woman holding a vase. Audrey marveled at the beauty of the old home. I wonder what it looks like inside.

  He motioned to a small bistro table near the fountain. “Sit, sit,” he said, pulling out a small, spindly iron-backed chair. “Can I interest you is some Prosecco?”

  “Yes. Sure,” she said, eyes volleying around the place, looking for something that said, I am mafia.

  Of course, there was nothing, unless you counted the well-appointed, clearly expensive home. No machine guns lying about. No sinister-looking, stoic brothers standing in the shadows. She shivered as she realized she’d just walked into this strange man’s home, alone. Even if he wasn’t mafia, that could be dangerous.

  “I’m sorry if the place is a bit of a mess. Just moving in and all. It’s been shuttered for over a year, unfortunately,” he said, looking around in dismay. Then he called, “Marta!”

  A plump, grandmotherly woman in a black service outfit appeared. “Si?”

  “Dacci una bottiglia di De Luca. E porta il pranzo per me e la mia amica,” he said effortlessly, much to Audrey’s surprise. He’d spoken English so well that she’d nearly forgotten he was likely Sicilian.

  The woman nodded and scurried off.

  He sat across from her and smiled. “Much to be done, still. But we will get this place back to its former glory.”

  “What brings you to Mussomeli?” Audrey asked, venturing to look in his eyes. Nope. Not quite yet.

  “I was tired from the busyness of Palermo. This place has been in my family for years. I inherited it from family.”

  Audrey frowned. “I thought it was for sale?”

  “It was. I’d planned to sell. But then my circumstances—they changed. I wanted someplace quiet to lay—to settle, you see,” he said as Marta arrived with an antipasti full of olives, cheeses, salami, bread, and artichokes. She poured them each a glass of wine and bowed slightly. Rafael flicked her off, as if he’d been used to dealing with servants all his life, then sipped his wine. “Mussomeli fits the bill.”

  Wait, did he just say he was looking for a place to lie low? Audrey stared at him, so distracted by his words that she almost missed the stem of her wine glass when she reached for it and wound up knocking it over. She successfully recovered and took a sip.

  “I hope you like involtini di pesce spade,” he said. “It’s Marta’s specialty. She makes the best I’ve ever had.”

  “I don’t know what that is.”

  “Swordfish rolls, covered in breadcrumbs. You’ll like it, if you like fish.”

  “I do. I’m sure I’ll like it,” she said, looking over the antipasti. She took a tiny piece of bread and nibbled on it. It was hard to believe there was another course after this; she usually just skipped lunch for work or scarfed down an apple in the back room of the clinic.

  “And of course, Marta makes the best granita d’arincia, for dessert.” He popped an olive into his mouth. “So, how is it you came to live here, beautiful American lady?”

  She blushed hot. “I got taken in by the one-dollar house scheme.”

  “Taken in?”

  She laughed. “No, I don’t mean that. It hasn’t been bad. It’s just been a lot of work, because the town needed a vet clinic right away. So I’ve been handling renovations on my place and setting up a clinic. It’s been pretty hectic.”

  “I see. I heard that there was a bit
of a stray problem here. How is the town treating you?”

  “Oh, fine. Everyone’s really nice. And understanding of my terrible Italian. Plus, there are expats from all over the world coming here. It’s definitely been an adventure,” she said, looking around. A breeze blew her hair in front of her face, and she had the strangest feeling, like she was being watched.

  “When did you get here?”

  “A few months ago. It’s definitely been busy. But I love the town and its people. You grew up around here? You said the place was in your family?”

  He shook his head. “Palermo. But yes. It came from my family.”

  Family. That was kind of broad and vague. She had to wonder if he was being that way on purpose. “You live here alone? Why?”

  He chuckled. “I suppose you can say I haven’t found the right woman yet.”

  She nearly choked on her Prosecco. “Oh, no. I just meant that it’s a big place for just one.”

  He leaned forward and tented his hands in front of him. “I suppose you can say I like to spread out. And I value my privacy.”

  So it was probably not a good idea that you were infringing on it, Audrey, she thought, stiffening. This was where, in the mafia movies, he’d pull a sleek pistol from under the table. She’d plead, “I didn’t know! I’ll be more careful next time!” And he’d say, “There won’t be a next time,” before coolly blowing her away.

  But of course, he didn’t do any of that. He simply grabbed his napkin and laid it over his lap. “Ah. You’re in for a treat. Dr. Smart!”

  The food came. It smelled lightly of seafood, but nuttier, like the toasted breadcrumbs. Audrey’s mouth began to water at the sight of the golden-fried rolls. “It looks delicious.”

  It tasted delicious, too. She took a bite, letting the flavors meld on her tongue. “Wow,” she said. “This is good. So this place has been in your family a long time? It’s old, isn’t it? It must have a history.”

  “Yes, the Tivoli estate was the refuge of an Italian princess, Chiara Tivoli, who fled to Sicily to avoid the Nazi regime. She’d been charged with working against the war effort. She was later captured and brought to a concentration camp. My great-great grandfather came to know her, there, and somehow, upon her death, the estate came into his name.”

  “Somehow?”

  He laughed. “I can’t say I’m very well-versed in the details.” He pointed to the fountain, where she could see a dolphin inlaid in mosaic tiles. “Those tiles are imported from the mainland, as were the Roman columns. They’re centuries old.”

  She smiled. By the time she finished her food, she knew a lot about the home, but very little about the man that sat across from her. Also, she’d had maybe one too many glasses of Prosecco, because when lunch ended and she tried to stand up, she felt dizzy and light, like she might be able to fly away. “Oh,” she said, and blinked.

  “Are you alright?”

  She waved him away, even as she wavered on her feet. Looking around, she wondered where Nick had gone, and if he was still tooling around the orange groves. “Perfect. Just fine.”

  But was she? She gulped a breath of air and blinked some more, trying to get the swirling courtyard into focus. The scenery around her spun. Much more of this, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep her swordfish down.

  “Come this way. My car is over here,” he said, motioning to her.

  He probably had a Ferrari. Or a Lamborghini. Something that probably cost more money than she’d seen in her life. She could just imagine throwing up all over his leather upholstery. “No, that’s all right,” she said, looking around. “If you point me in the right direction, I’ll walk. The fresh air will do me good.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded, pointing out a door. “This way?”

  He pointed in an entirely opposite direction. “That way. There is a shortcut straight to town if you’re willing to climb a few stairs. Just stay to the right.”

  “Oh. That’s fine.” She giggled. All the doors looked the same. “Thanks. And thank you for the lovely meal.”

  He stood up, coming almost uncomfortably close to her. That was one thing she hadn’t gotten used to about Sicily—people were used to far less personal space, so they often got right in her face when they talked to her. But as he put his hands on her shoulder, she couldn’t remember any other Sicilian ever getting this close.

  Then he leaned over, and very gently gave her a kiss on each cheek. “It has been a pleasure, lovely doctor,” he said in a low voice with a timbre that melted her insides. “’Til we meet again?”

  She nodded goofily, then turned and almost walked straight into the fountain. She giggled through the pain as her shins collided with the marble enclosure. “Whoops.”

  Collecting herself, she waved at him again and tottered off, through the gate and out of the courtyard. Sure enough, she saw a gravel pathway heading off toward the right. Beyond that, past some trees and brush, there was a staircase cut into a cliffside that might as well have been a ladder. Audrey stared at it, getting a little dizzy, just thinking about climbing those flights.

  I don’t know if I can do this.

  She turned around and looked at the mansion. She could ask Rafael for that ride, but then again, she’d already embarrassed herself enough for one day.

  Come on. It’s like they always tell you—just don’t look down. It’ll be fine.

  Squaring her shoulders, she took a few steps down the path.

  But that was when she saw it.

  A few small, dark spots, scattered among the gravel.

  She leaned over, then crouched to get a better look, almost pitching forward in her tipsiness. As she got closer, she saw the definite deep crimson tinge and confirmed it. Blood.

  She looked around and noticed another few blood drops, heading out toward the orange grove.

  It was the blood trail the caller had told her about.

  So it hadn’t been a crank. Jumping up, now feeling more sober, she took off, looking for the wounded animal. She found more blood as she went, some droplets on the grass, some smeared on the tree trunks. Poor animal. It was a wonder it hadn’t bled out. Maybe it had.

  She scanned the ground in front of her, following the trail, but then, it simply ended. She stopped under the shade of a tree and caught her breath, wishing she had a glass of water. She also kind of had to pee. But it seemed that the animal had just disappeared into thin air.

  Sighing, she went around a tree to head back to the staircase when she stumbled over something big and dark, lying in the grass. A rock. She fell with an “oof!”, the pain ripping through her knees.

  Rolling onto her backside, she looked at the grass stains on her knees. One of them was scratched and raw, starting to bleed. “Great,” she mumbled, reaching into her medical bag and pulling out a band-aid. “Pays to come prepared.”

  She started to put it on, but decided it needed antiseptic. She had that, too. She dabbed a little on a cotton ball and gently dabbed it on the wound as something moved in the grass. It jumped up, sitting on the rock in front of her.

  “Oh, there you are, Nick,” she said, glancing up at him. “I thought you were going to help me find . . .”

  She froze.

  Because Nick wasn’t sitting on a rock.

  He was sitting on just the thing she’d sent him out to find. A wounded animal.

  Only this wasn’t a wounded animal. It was a man in a black suit, and from his face-down position, as still as he was, she was pretty sure “wounded” was an understatement. He was dead.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Audrey sat on a stone wall at the edge of the street, waiting for the police to arrive and fanning her face, trying to keep calm. She sat there, at the edge of the property, which was quite far away from the body she’d found, so she could direct Detective Dinardo to the scene of the crime. Which was fine with her, because she didn’t want to be there, with him.

  Whoever he was.

  Detective Dinardo
was Mussomeli’s only detective, a no-nonsense, hard-edged man who rarely smiled. He was probably mid-forties, with a scarred, weathered face of someone who’d had a lot of trials in life. When he pulled up to her, he rolled his eyes through the windshield. Then he pushed open the door. “You again, Dr. Smart?”

  She shrugged helplessly. “Hello to you, too, Detective.” The truth was that she’d already found three other bodies in town and was starting to get a complex. “I don’t understand. I guess I’m just unlucky.”

  “I’ll say. If you stay in Mussomeli much longer, we might start having a population problem,” he muttered. “You said you found a body?”

  She motioned behind her. Now, she was almost completely sober, and getting a migraine. “If you keep following this row of trees closer to the house, you’ll find him. I think he’s been shot.”

  Detective Dinardo silently headed off to the scene as another police car pulled up. This time, Officer Ricci, the buff young police officer stepped out. He started laughing. “Dottore Smart!” He slapped his knee. “Not you again!”

  “Yes, it’s me,” she mumbled, looking up at the sun. It was starting to dip behind the cliffs. Poor Concetta was probably wondering what happened to her.

  Officer Ricci came over to her and handed her a cold bottle of water. Eureka. She took a drink from it, deciding he probably didn’t have a porta-potty socked away in his little cruiser. “Thank you so much.”

  He motioned down the path. “What is it?”

  “Another murder, I think.” She shuddered. “Actually, I know. Unless there’s a way a guy could commit suicide by shooting himself in the back.”

  Ricci raised an eyebrow. “Wow.” Audrey couldn’t tell if he was shocked or excited. He climbed the short stone fence and headed in the same direction as Dinardo.

  After a few moments, Audrey decided to follow. She arrived just as Dinardo was kneeling in front of the body. “Looks like he’s been dead a few hours.” He looked up at Ricci. “Call in the coroner.”

  Ricci nodded and pulled out his radio, then headed off.