The Rome Prophecy

91

Valentina’s been lying awake for ten minutes.

She’s naked in bed, facing Tom and doing nothing but watch him breathing gently. Just being beside him makes her feel calm and safe. She can’t remember looking at a man in this way before. Just staring at him, studying him, trying to understand more about him.

She lifts her left hand from beneath the warmth of the quilt and puts it gently on the side of his face.

He shifts a little.

Right now he seems more like a baby than a man, and she has to stifle a laugh.

She scrutinises his face.

Her old boss Vito always said a man’s face was a map to his life. A thin white scar runs just below the hairline on the left side of Tom’s head.

A fall as a child?

A tumble off his first bike?

This little white snake looks old enough to be either.

She touches his hair. It’s thick and dark, but not completely black. It’s somewhere north of chestnut brown. She looks closer. She spots a few grey hairs in the part that joins his almost military-short sideburns. It suits him. Makes him look distinguished. He may be one of those rare beasts who gets even more handsome with the passing years.

Valentina’s cell phone rings. Her eyes dart in the direction of the noise.

It’s on the dressing table and out of reach.

Tom stirs.

She was hoping to keep him asleep a little longer.

She slips from the covers and quickly grabs the phone.

She intends just hitting the dismiss button, but recognises the caller.

Louisa.

‘Pronto,’ she says, somewhat apprehensively.

‘Valentina, it’s Doctor Verdetti.’ Louisa leaves no pause for a usual response. ‘I don’t have much time, so please don’t chatter like you normally do; just listen carefully for once.’

Valentina is instantly on edge.

Louisa has never called herself doctor, and the off-hand reference to chattering is peculiar, to say the least.

‘Tell me first,’ Louisa continues, almost brusquely, ‘what kind of night did Anna have? She looked awful when I last saw her. I’m hoping she’s much better this morning.’

Valentina quickly picks up on the verbal clues. Whoever Louisa is with, whoever has been scaring Anna so much she felt it necessary to sleep in a bed of bibles, doesn’t know she is dead – mustn’t know she’s dead – and is probably listening in right this second.

Valentina plays her part. ‘ Anna is all right. A little weak. I think you need to see her for yourself. When will you be coming in?’

‘Good, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear. Actually, I won’t be coming in. Just the opposite. I’ve been looking through Anna’s notes and have decided that therapeutically she needs another trip out. It will give us a chance to learn more about how she reacts to certain surroundings. Could you get her wrapped up nice and warm and bring her out to the Piazza di Santa Cecilia? I’ll meet you there.’ Louisa looks to the man in the purple cloak leaning close to her and whispers, ‘What time?’

He holds up his watch and jabs the dial with a stubby index finger.

‘Can you get her there by eleven o’clock?’ she asks.

Valentina guesses she has no choice in the matter. ‘I’ll do my best.’ She reaches for a hotel pen and notepad. ‘Is there anywhere in particular in the piazza you want to meet? Anything special you want me to bring?’

Louisa whispers again to the man at her side: ‘Where exactly do you want her brought?’

He hesitates. ‘The fountain outside the church. That will do for now.’

‘The fountain outside Santa Cecilia. No need to bring anything other than your normal baggage and Anna.’

Valentina understands the ‘baggage’ to be back-up police. ‘Okay. We’ll see you at eleven.’

The line goes dead.

Valentina glances at her watch. She has two hours to get a plan together.