A Villa in Sicily: Capers and a Calamity Read online

  “Oh, so that’s why you were at Marco’s place, huh? You thought he might have some idea as to who did this?”

  “Yeah. It was a start.” She shrugged. “But you said a lot of people were unhappy with him?”

  He nodded.

  “So short of going through his files, that was the best I could do.”

  She yawned again. Her eyes felt heavier than ever, until suddenly, with no warning whatsoever, Vito slammed on the brakes.

  Her eyes bulged. Her neck ached from the whiplash. Massaging it, she looked over at him, her voice raised in alarm. “What. The. H—”

  “I have an idea.”

  “I have one, too, Vito. How about ‘not get into an accident’?”

  “No. We should go over to his place. Check around. I bet we can get in.”

  “We?” She shook her head. “No way. I’m not dragging you into this.”

  “You’re not dragging me into anything,” he said, doing a U-turn in the middle of the road. “I’m doing it of my own free will.”

  “Wait. Where are you going?” she asked, stiffening as he hung a right and a sinking suspicion settled over her. He’s going to the vet clinic. He’s going to break us in and get us both arrested.

  “Relax. We’re just going to check it out and see what’s going on there.”

  She gave him a doubtful look. “You’re not going to try to break in?”

  He shrugged. “Not yet. Let’s just see what we’re dealing with.”

  “Vito? Not yet. Never. Promise me. You could get in so much trouble.”

  He didn’t promise. He simply waggled his eyebrows and grinned mischievously.

  Audrey wrapped her hand even tighter around the handle on the door. This is not a good idea.

  They pulled up the street and he settled into a crawl as they came to the clinic. She felt like a criminal, casing the joint. Remarkably, there was no police tape there, no police presence at all, nothing to alert anyone to the fact that a murder had taken place there.

  “Look at that. I could just mosey on in there with a sick . . .” He looked over his shoulder at Nick. “. . . fox, and pretend I didn’t know anything about the murder.”

  He grinned.

  Audrey shook her head. “This has ‘bad idea’ written all over it.” She looked back at the building on the corner. It was strange to see it so deserted, considering how busy it had been last night. “What if we go there and touch something and they look for fingerprints? Then I’ll really get tied to the murder. And so will you.”

  He pulled to the curb. “No, we won’t. First, you were already in there, right? You found the body, so your fingerprints are already everywhere. And secondly . . .” He reached into the seat behind her and pulled out the box of latex gloves. “Good thing we came prepared.”

  “Vito. No. Absolutely not.” She shook her head vigorously.

  “You’re right. The police are bumbling idiots. You’re going to leave the investigation in their hands?”

  “I don’t know . . .” she hedged, but even then, she knew he was right. What was most important now was finding the killer. She had more experience than the police force on the island. And if they were going to continue to stonewall her and not accept her suggestions, what else could she do?

  He handed her the gloves and slipped his own on. “Come on. You might be an expert in animals, but this is where I’m the pro. Trust me.”

  He stepped out of the car and jogged across the street. She gathered Nick into her arms and hurried after him. When she got there, he tried the front door. It opened, but the one in the vestibule was locked. A quick glance through the glass door confirmed the place was empty.

  Audrey sighed in relief. “Oh well, too bad. Can we go now?”

  “One second.”

  They went back outside. Nick wriggled from her grip and disappeared behind some bushes. Audrey made a beeline for the street where the car was parked. “Time to go,” she sang under her breath.

  Vito hesitated, scanning the area around the building. “I have a better idea.”

  She shook her head. “Oh no. Please. No.”

  He pushed his hair off his face and winked at her. “Follow me.”

  Before she could protest any more, he stuck his hands in his pockets and looked both ways as he nonchalantly backed toward the alley behind the building. In a blink, he slipped inside.

  She hesitated. The most important thing now is finding the killer, she reminded herself.

  Slightly less gracefully, with a lot less composure, Audrey followed suit.

  She found herself in an alley so small, she practically grazed both walls with her shoulders. They were covered with a thick mass of ivy. The floor was brick, with a narrow gulley of murky water flowing out of it toward the street. Though it was a bright, sunny morning, the walls and vegetation blocked out a good deal of sun. She had to squint to see Vito standing in front of her.

  He was smirking as he motioned with his chin. “Here we are.”

  She looked up to see a window. It was covered in a dirty screen and rather high up on the wall. From what she could tell, it was the window that she’d seen in the waiting room. “Don’t tell me—”

  “Why not? I’ve broken into a lot more secure places than this.”

  “Fantastic. But I thought you turned over a new leaf?”

  “I did. I’m helping the good guys now.” He reached up to fiddle with the lock, then looked at her. “You have a . . . that. Can I borrow that?”

  He pointed to the hair clip holding the stray short hairs off her forehead. She unclipped it and handed it to him.

  “Awesome.” He took it, bent it in a certain way, and fiddled with the latch again. As nervous as she was, she was also a little impressed. Because whatever he was doing, he was doing it in darkness, under stress. She kept glancing toward the street, thinking she might pass out. “And voila.”

  The hinges creaked as he tilted the screen up, then gave the window a few shoves. It budged a little each time. Before long, there was a narrow opening.

  “Now what?” she asked, not liking where this was heading.

  “I’ll give you a boost. You go in.”

  “What? No! You’re not coming with me?”

  He started counting off on his fingers. “One, if I give you a boost, who gives me a boost? Two, you need someone to keep watch. Three, there’s no way I’m fitting through that window.”

  She glanced up at it, worry creasing her forehead. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly, psyching herself up for it.

  “Okay, okay. Fine. Give me a boost before I lose my courage.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I can’t believe I’m doing this, Audrey thought as she stepped onto Vito’s laced fingers and he boosted her up to the window. As he lifted her, she grabbed a hold of the window ledge and slid in the narrow opening.

  Unfortunately, sliding in headfirst meant that her head would be the first thing to hit the ground on the other side. And Vito was being a lot quicker about shoving her over than she would’ve liked.

  “Hold on!” she cried over her shoulder as he pushed her through. Yes, it was the waiting room, as she’d expected, but she had other things on her mind at the moment. In particular, how she was going to wriggle herself down from the ledge without doing a faceplant.

  She nearly lost her balance, but then grabbed ahold of the wall to steady herself. Sliding her hands down it, she fisted a chair’s armrests in both hands and slowly wormed her way onto it. When her feet were the last thing clinging to the window ledge, she tried to bring them down, one at a time, to cushion the fall, but the chair slipped out from under her and she went sliding, landing on the floor with a bang. Her elbows took the brunt of the fall.

  “Ouch.”

  “You okay?”

  The threadbare carpet her chin was resting on was so covered in dust bunnies, it was amazing the floor was as hard as it felt. She stifled a sneeze. As she rolled to the side, everything hurt. She faced the aq
uarium, where two goldfish swam, unconcerned with her predicament. Then she looked around the rest of the dim, cramped waiting area.

  Nobody was there. That was good, at least.

  “No,” she called back, massaging a sore hip as she rolled all the way over and climbed to her feet.

  “Really?” He sounded worried.

  “I’m fine,” she muttered, as suddenly, something appeared in the window. She sucked in a breath, sure it was someone coming to arrest her. But it was just Nick, who stood there for a moment, gauging his next steps, before gracefully scurrying across the window ledge, hopping to a book shelf, then to a chair back, then finally to the ground. Audrey shook her head. “I wish you could read, Nick. Then you could’ve done this for us. Come on.”

  “If you hear me whistle,” Vito called, “that means someone’s coming, and to get out. Okay?”

  A shiver went down her back. She really didn’t want to think about that. “Whistle? Like how?”

  He whistled, like he was catcalling a pretty girl on the sidewalk. Whoo-whooooo.

  “Oh. Okay.” She wiped her sweaty palms on her khaki shorts. “How do I get out?”

  “Just the same way you got in.”

  Oh, god, no, she thought with dread. But it would be easier. She could just climb on the chair back, and hopefully, Vito would be there to catch her. Think about that when you’re done. Right now, you have work to do.

  “Got it.”

  The door to the rooms in the back of the building was open. She quickly passed through, stopping every time she heard a noise, sure she was hearing a whistle. But when she paused, she realized it was only her imagination. Get a hold of yourself, Audrey.

  She purposely avoided the examination room where she’d found Dr. Mauro’s body and crept to the second door. Pushing it open, she found an office, with a desk and a chair, and a pile of papers and folders that seemed to be in no order whatsoever. No filing cabinet.

  Turning around, she saw the receptionist’s area. The entire back of that room was made up of several giant wall-sized, walnut filing cabinets.

  Jackpot.

  She rushed over to it and opened the closest drawer. It didn’t glide open easily; it rumbled on a squeaky track, since the cabinet looked like something from the nineteenth century. When she peered in, hundreds and hundreds of manila folders with colored tabs stared back at her.

  Where to begin?

  She pulled one out from the center of the cabinet, for someone named Avila. A cat with conjunctivitis. No problems there. Then a dog with allergies. She pulled out a few more, going through each, trying to find some red flags. But despite his messy, smeared handwriting (perhaps he was left-handed) and penchant for dripping some kind of food or drink on the files, since there were many sticky droplets on them, there was nothing to write home about.

  She noticed, as she went, that the files were not sorted by year, but alphabetically. Newer files were mixed in with older ones, and it was easy to tell which was which, because the older files contained faded, yellowing paper. Some of them dated back to the early eighties. They were the more thorough, neater ones, Audrey noticed. But though the newer of his reports were very terse, his handwriting a little shakier, everything seemed to be in order.

  She looked around. No computers. There was, in fact, a vinyl-covered typewriter, sitting in the corner. He doesn’t keep any of his files online. They’re all in here. No wonder it’s such a mess. Dr. Mauro is old-school.

  She went back to the file and pulled out a thicker one, for the Bustantes. They had a pet golden retriever, and had been in to see the doctor only last year. It was mostly in Italian, so she did her best to translate, but from what she could tell, the poor pup had only lived a few years. Cancer, it said, which was not unusual, since golden retrievers were prone to the disease. What was unusual was the dog’s age. Only four? The disease continued to spread, though, so Dr. Mauro eventually had to put the dog down.

  Audrey lifted out the X-ray film that was included in the folder and held the images up to the minimal light from the window, looking for the telltale signs of tumors.

  But she could see none.

  In fact, the animal’s body was completely clear and healthy. He had possibly a bit of a bone density problem which might have contributed to his ill health, but like Marco’s Mastiff, that could’ve been rectified with a better diet.

  Audrey cringed. Had Dr. Mauro seriously misdiagnosed a healthy animal and sent him to his death?

  She pushed such horrible thoughts away. Veterinarians were human, after all. Science was imperfect. Doctors could make mistakes. Or maybe there was something in the X-rays that she didn’t see.

  “Poor pup,” she whispered, going to the next folder.

  This one was a dog with hip dysplasia. From the X-rays, yes, the beginning signs were there, but according to the file, he’d performed euthanasia on the dog only a month after diagnosis. Another one, with kidney disease, that he’d dismissed as lethargy until the animal had passed on.

  A sickness swelled in Audrey’s gut. Unless she was missing something in the translation, Dr. Mauro was clearly euthanasia-happy and too quick to diagnosis without the proper tests.

  She pulled out a few more recent folders, noticing the same thing, and piled them together. There was a photocopier in the corner of the office that she could use. But the file folders were something like a rabbit hole, and one of Audrey’s favorite parts of the job was diagnosing patients, so she found herself getting a little lost in them and forgetting where she was.

  It all came flooding back, though, when she heard a strange whistle. What kind of crazy bird is that? she wondered for a split second, before she remembered.

  That was Vito’s signal.

  It meant someone was coming.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  With no time to lose, Audrey grabbed the pile of folders and raced to the reception area. As she did, she saw shadows behind the glass in the front vestibule. Someone was standing there, going through keys, trying to find the right one to open the door.

  Meanwhile, just outside, Vito whistled, again and again, like a bird caught in a hurricane. Audrey eyed the window, her escape. She didn’t have the time. Even if she jumped up and dove through the window with all the grace of an acrobat, the person at the door would be inside in seconds.

  Looking around for an alternative plan, she quickly spotted it.

  There was a hat rack near the door, covered with a number of jackets and hats. It didn’t quite occur to her why there were so many jackets on the rack, since it was still very warm in late September, and obviously there were no patients to be seen. But it was full of them, which was the one break Audrey got. Holding the folders to her chest, she edged toward it and slid in the small space between the hat rack and the wall.

  She closed her eyes and said a little prayer as a second later, there was the sound of the key turning in the lock, and the door opening.

  The coats had clearly been there a while, because they smelled like dust and mothballs. Audrey stifled a sneeze as she peered between them, at the male police officer who’d been there last night. He walked in, gnawing loudly on something, an apple, maybe, and strolled past her, not even looking her way. He went through the doors to the back room, completely oblivious to her presence.

  Without wasting a beat, Audrey slipped out the other side of the coat rack, nearest the door, pushed it open, and escaped into the warm morning. When she got there, she looked around, sure one of the other officers would be waiting there, to snap some handcuffs on her. But the street was empty.

  She went around to the alley and casually peered down it. Vito was still there, still whistling. She snapped her fingers. He caught sight of her and followed her down the street.

  When they were far enough away, he caught up with her. “What did you get? You find anything?”

  “I found a load of stuff,” she said, holding up the files. “Including a man named Davide Bustante, whose pet golden retriever was eut
hanized by Dr. Mauro a month ago because he was suffering from cancer. But guess what? He didn’t have cancer.”

  “Yeah?” He looked at the folders in her hands. “Are all of those . . .”

  She nodded. “All of them are misdiagnoses, and fairly new cases that resulted in the animal’s death. There’s a lot more where this came from, but it’s a start.”

  Vito stopped walking suddenly. Audrey turned back to look at him. “Bustante. I know that guy. He works at the gym down by the harbor. He’s . . . interesting.”

  “Interesting good or interesting bad?” Audrey asked, but she could already see the answer by the constipated look on his face. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Let’s just say I wouldn’t put it past him to murder someone who killed his best friend,” Vito said, raking his hands through his hair. “But let’s go.”

  “Hold on,” Audrey said. “Gallo hired me to help with the stray problem. I haven’t done anything to help today. Maybe you should go back to the clinic and help your Nonna. I’m sure she has a lot to do. Tell her I’ll be there as soon as I talk to this man.”

  He grinned. “Bustante doesn’t speak English, so you need me,” he announced.

  “All right,” she said with a shrug. “Lead the way.”

  *

  Audrey had passed Palestra Bustante, right at the harbor front, when she first arrived on the ferry, but she hadn’t known what it was until now. She peered inside the small storefront and saw the gym mats, mirrored walls, weight benches, and large racks full of huge dumbbells and weights. A few very large, muscular men were standing in the front window, lifting what looked like cartoonishly large bar bells and grunting as sweat poured down their brows.