Death Under the Venice Moon (18 page)

Oh, God, why?
I had just gotten over remembering Mom and now the black cat? Really?

"You like cats?" I asked Giada—anything to avoid thinking about Flash.

She nodded. "Kyle told me about your furry baby back home," she said.

Giada reached over and patted my hand. Coffee arrived. The waiter walked over to Giada and whispered something in her ear. She nodded. "
Si, certamente
."

What was she agreeing to?

"Kyle"—she brushed my son's arm to get his attention—"you have an admirer who would like your autograph. Our waiter is bringing a cocktail napkin for you to sign. Okay with you?"

He blinked like he didn't know who she was talking to, then his face lit up. "Oh, sure, of course. I'm still not used to being asked for autographs when I'm in these types of surroundings."

My son, so humble. I wanted to hug him. Instead I sat and rejoiced.

"Lella." Finally Larry seemed to remember me. "Kyle would like me to go with him and this Italian-American detective to search for Cruz."

Was he kidding? Search for Cruz? Where? Italy is not that small. I kept staring at him, not sure what to say. The
cameriere
was back and Kyle wrote something on the napkin, to the obvious delight of the waiter. I bit my lips, waiting for the man to leave.

"Kyle, where are you planning on dragging Larry to look for Cruz?" It came out a little stronger than I wanted. Too bad.

"My friend the detective has a theory that since Pia's car was found in the vicinity of Trento perhaps she was headed toward that fantasy cabin. You remember? The
baita
I told you about."

"Your friend the detective? Really? Let me see if I have this straight. You, Larry and the detective will go back to Trento and roam around back roads looking for Cruz. What? You'll take turns calling his name in the wind?"

Giada muffled a giggle.

Apparently I made my point. Kyle darted me an ugly look.

"Lella, don't take out your frustration on Kyle. He is trying to make himself useful. The sooner they solve Cruz's mystery, the sooner everyone's life will be back to normal. The man didn't just disappear into thin air."

"What makes you think Cruz was with Pia?"

"His phone was in her car. Remember?"

"What else was in her car? Suitcases? Food? What? If they were planning to spend time together, they would have at least a change of clothes. When a woman knows she'll be spending the night with a man she packs toiletries, nightie." I suddenly remembered my first night with Larry. The only thing I had with me was the lipstick and comb I always kept in my purse.

Blood rushed to my cheeks at the memories. Our eyes met, held. I knew Larry was well aware of my state of mind. I shut my mouth and sat back sighing.
May the floor open up and take me. Damn.
Thank God no one but Larry would understand the reason behind such a high degree of discomfort.

"Kyle, your mom has a point—how come they didn't find any of Cruz's belongings outside of the phone?" Larry's voice didn't give away a thing, but his eyes…

He couldn't fool me, not this time. There was enough want smoldering behind his thick lashes for us both to burst into flames.

"Should I make a note to ask the detective?" Kyle paused, lowering his eyes. "There's something else. What if Cruz was in the car when it went off the road into the ravine? What if he was thrown out and landed in a place hard to access? What if—"

"Son." That was Larry calling him
son
. "Don't torture yourself. If that's the case, there isn't a thing you could have done about it. Okay?"

The silence that filled the room was bursting with questions. There weren't any answers. We all knew that.

I turned my attention to Giada in an attempt to ease the tension. "Are you going with them?"

"No, I drove myself here, and I'm planning on circling around the lake to check out my parents' place. Care to join me?" she asked.

I didn't answer. All the emotion of the day had piled up inside me, so high I had to do something before I suffocated in my own sorrow.

"That leaves two cars," I said. Both men looked at me, their discomfort and curiosity easily read on each of their faces.

"Yesss," Larry said slowly, his eyes on me.

Kyle jumped in. "We can leave one of the cars here. Don't be concerned about the cars, it's just that—like I said—everyone thinks you are in Venice, and—"

"Can I borrow your car?" I interrupted.

In the silence I heard Kyle swallow hard.

Larry rested his elbows on the table, fingers entwined, his chin on his knuckles and without flinching said, "Would you like to borrow the Mercedes?" If unspoken questions were light bulbs, Larry's would have lit up the whole
piazza
of Lazise.

"No, I would prefer the Ford. It's automatic and it probably operates a lot more like my Mustang than your German car, but thank you for offering." I waited for Kyle to start breathing normally. I could tell he was in a state of shock.

"Mom, how—you can't—your driver's license, you don't have an International driver's license and—"

"She doesn't need one; I happened to check before leaving to make sure I was within the law." Larry to the rescue.

"Thank you for the vote of confidence." I smiled at him.

Poor Kyle deflated. His glance went to Giada. Finally he let out a loud sigh. "Where are you planning on driving?"

I cleared my throat, not wanting emotion to spoil the moment. "I'm going home. Where I was born. It's long overdue."

I can do this.
The old commercial mantra, "Never let them see you sweat," twirled in my head while I concentrated on getting to the Autostrada Brescia-Venezia. Most Italians knew it as La Serenissima, in honor of Venice's old glory days.

Today Venice's glory came mostly from tourists' money and their hurry to get to it before it sinks.
Concentrate on driving, Lella.

In the rearview mirror I watched the Mercedes pull away.

I was on my own. For an instant, euphoria trumped anxiety, then the light changed from red to green. I tapped the accelerator and entered the toll road while sweat drenched my body. Hot flash or reality settling in?

I can do this.

I would have to remember, no passing from the right lane. Stay out of the way of fast cars. How? Every car was faster than the Focus. I was so traumatized by my first time driving on the Italian highway, my knuckles on the steering wheel were whiter than Tom Cruise's teeth.

Talk about trauma; poor Kyle had tried really hard to keep his cool while he transferred his belongings from the Ford to Larry's car. He'd gone as far as hunkering down to move the driver's seat forward to accommodate my short legs. I could imagine what went though his mind. His mother driving his leased car, a car she wasn’t familiar with on a road she hardly remembered among Italian drivers known for being extremely aggressive.

Larry had stood back and watched. His eyes had made a sweep of the car, my son, the road, and…me. When Kyle was done with all the shuffling and preaching, Larry had given me a hug and whispered, "Stay safe."

For a moment I'd wished I could take him with me, but I didn't. This was my time.

They escorted me all the way to the entrance of the
autostrada
, where Larry turned his car around and headed to the meeting with the Italian detective. I drove in the right lane. It had to be for slower traffic, right? Like in the States? Not a big deal. I was starting to relax. All I had to do was stay in the same lane until I reached the Montecchio exit, get off, and turn right.

I'd be on my way home. And then what? I had no idea who I would find in my small town. The last factory closed in 2006. Everything was outsourced, just like in the States. We even sold Mom's house after her death.

I wanted to go to the cemetery and lay a potted yellow chrysanthemum on her grave. Two weeks away from November second, the Day of the Dead, a big day for cemeteries all over Italy. And a great day also for Italian florists.

I had decided my mother's grave wouldn't be the only one without flowers, not this year. That was the main reason for borrowing the car, or was it? I needed some me time. To be alone. To make sense of the last eight days of my life. The new people I'd met. The new places I'd discovered. The old fears I'd constantly refused to acknowledge.

In retrospect, I had overreacted to Larry's trip to Florida. I'd rushed to conclusions, and somehow my conclusions had never been the easy or pleasant kind.

Pia's sad, sad ending was also on my mind. What an unnecessary tragedy. She was such a young, vibrant woman.
Stop it, Lella, you hardly knew her.
And if I were honest, I had to admit I liked Giada a lot more. How could I be so cold and heartless? Pia was dead and deserved some respect.

The world around me seemed darker now, and not only because of my thoughts. The sky had turned gray, that solid cold gray that usually preceded—snow? Impossible. What would I do if it snowed? I needed to find where to turn on the windshield wipers, and I had never ever driven a car in the snow.

Verona Ovest zipped by while I mentally debated the different scenarios in case of snow. How far to Verona Est? A sound came from somewhere in the car, a joyful sound. Music. Where was it coming from? The radio was off. There it was again. Could it be—a phone? My phone?

I kept my eyes on the road, searched inside the purse with my right hand, and found the phone. It wasn't ringing. The music came from under my seat or at my feet, somewhere on the floor.

My nervousness went from ten to ten thousand in a nanosecond. What should I do? Just like that, it stopped. A long sigh slipped from my lips. I glanced around as if afraid someone knew. Knew what?

And the music started again. I swallowed hard. I needed to pull over, find the phone from hell and make it stop. Maybe I could park in the emergency lane for a minute and find the phone. I wasn't even sure it was a phone. I had to do this.

Cars buzzed by me. My dilemma meant nothing to anyone. I put my signal on for the lonely, beat-up car trailing behind me. That poor soul must have been as intimidated by the road as I was. The car had been in my rearview mirror from the time I entered the
autostrada
. I hadn't thought about that before, but for some reason I did then. It had been back there the whole time, hadn't it? Strange.

Lella, don't start that.

I inched into the emergency lane. The beat-up car had no choice but to pass me on the left. As it drove ahead, the man behind the wheel craned his neck to check out my car. Maybe he wasn't a stalker. Maybe he was a Good Samaritan, concerned about my safety. He slowed down but didn't stop. I kept perfectly still, tempted to write down the license plate.

Write it down? With what? Your finger, Lella? Get over yourself.

The car sped ahead, and I caught a glimpse of the plate. I couldn't see all the numbers, but the car was registered in the province of Venezia. Whoa! What a relief. It made sense. After all, this was the Brescia-Venezia
autostrada
.

I didn't dare open my door. At the speed the crazy Italians drove by, I was bound to end up with a three-door sedan. I kept the engine running and slid my hands around the driver's seat, sides first, then as far as I could reach under the seat.
Aha
. Something was wedged between the floor mat and the seat. It must have happened when Kyle pulled the seat forward for me.

It was a
telefonino
, a cell phone as quiet as a mouse. Quiet for now. Good. I could leave it on the passenger seat, and if it rang again, I could easily answer. Excellent plan, but whose phone was it? This was Kyle's car. Could it be Giada's phone? Poor Giada. What if she were trying to reach Kyle? I should check it out, for Giada's sake. It was a pretty generic piece of electronics—no pink cover, no rhinestones, nothing to help identify the owner. I pushed a button and the screen lit up. I clicked the call back on the last number showing.

It rang twice then, "Hello?"

Oh my God
. Kyle. I was right. This was Giada's phone.

"Hi."

"Mom?"

"Yeah, it's me…I—"

"How did you get my phone?"

"Your phone?"

"Whose phone did you think it was?"

"Huh—Giada?" Silence.

"Lella, where are you?"

"What? Larry? Are you two playing games with me?" I was tempted to open the window and toss the phone out. Idiots, stupid sense of humor. I could have had an accident. Doing what? "Lella, please tell me you are not driving and talking on the phone?" Mister Lawman.

"Of course not." My shrieking tone wasn't going to help. The man knew my limitations. "I'm parked. I didn't know where the noise was coming from. It drove me crazy. Do I need to turn around and bring back the phone?"

"No, no." That was a rather forceful
no
. Why? What were they doing they didn't want me around? "Don't worry about returning Kyle's phone. He can use mine. He must have dropped it when he moved your seat. If it rings again, just ignore it. Better yet, do you know how to turn it off?" I heard voices in the background. "Kyle suggests you turn off the phone. We are headed to Trento." To look for Cruz? Based on the finding of his cell phone in her car. That was when it hit me.

"Wait, Larry wait. What if—picture this—Pia drove Cruz somewhere, maybe to the fantasy cabin she told Kyle about. They unloaded their stuff, and she was on her way somewhere else when she realized Cruz's phone was in her car. Kyle said Cruz never went anywhere without his phone. If she left him in some rustic cabin, the phone would have been his only means of communication to the outside world." I had to catch my breath, I was that excited.

"Go on." The snake charmer's voice. Larry also thought I was on to something…
oh my God. Oh my God!

"Pia would have made a U-turn to take the phone back to Cruz wherever he was. And it would explain why there was no luggage or anything else belonging to Cruz in her car besides the phone. Maybe it was the U-turn in the rain and darkness that killed her." I was out of breath, too much adrenaline.