from the door and exhaled. These gentlemen were serious.
The door shook with another pounding just as she reached for the handle, causing her to gasp. Slowly, she opened it to the officers. “Good morning,” she managed. “How can I help you?”
“My name is Officer Scarpa. I am with the Cateri police. Is Mr. Robards here?” This from the shorter of the two officers, the one who must’ve called out in English.
“No. I’m Kelly Chase. We booked this villa together.”
The man in the black slacks had stopped pacing to study her when she opened the door, but now he said something in rapid Italian she didn’t understand, though she did catch the words Signor Robards , telefonato , and Euros .
“I’m sorry,” she said to the officers, “but my Italian is very limited. What is the problem, exactly?”
“The manager says that this villa was reserved by a Mr. Robards. But yesterday afternoon, a man claiming to be Mr. Robards called and said that he had been unable to make his flight. He said he would forfeit the deposit and cancel the reservation. The manager, he explained to this man that his wife gave the key to a woman claiming to be Mrs. Robards yesterday morning. Mr. Robards assured him that there is no Mrs. Robards and that he is unmarried. He demanded that the manager accept the deposit and cancel the reservation, because this is what is in the contract.”
She stared at the officer, becoming more dumbfounded with every word he uttered. She muttered, more to herself than to the officer, “You have got to be kidding me.”
“No.” Officer Scarpa’s voice was level. “There is no kidding. This is why we are here.”
“I see.” Anger boiled in her gut. How dare he?
Ted had to have heard that she decided to take the honeymoon alone. Even if he hadn’t, if he’d called to cancel and was told there was a Mrs. Robards who’d checked in to the villa, he should’ve known that it was her.
And what right did he have to cancel and forfeit the deposit, anyway? She’d paid for it. With her own hard-earned money. Money made from selling her business. Her heart and soul. How he had the nerve—
The jaded looks on the officers’ faces as they waited for her to speak suddenly horrified her more than the thought of what Ted had done. Without having heard her side of the story, the two men assumed she was the person at fault in this situation. Not Ted. And they had the villa’s manager wearing a rift in the gravel driveway behind them as if to confirm it.
Mustering her most businesslike, placid tone, she explained, “As I said, my name is Kelly Chase. Mr. Robards and I booked this villa together for our honeymoon. However—”
The taller officer interrupted in Italian. Officer Scarpa grunted in response without taking his eyes off Kelly. The grunt sounded ominous.
Before Kelly could continue her explanation, Officer Scarpa said, “Please, do you have your passport? And papers proving that you have paid for this? The manager, he says that only Mr. Robards was named on the reservation, though it was made for two persons.”
Not true , she wanted to argue. She’d made the reservation herself and had given the manager’s wife both names when she booked. As tightly as Sarcaccia clung to its old world traditions, the woman must have only written down Ted’s name. But she could show them proof. She angled a thumb behind her. “I have my passport inside. I don’t have the confirmation, but if I can access a computer, I can pull up the reservation info and my e-mail communications with the manager’s wife. The final payment was set to come automatically from my bank yesterday after I checked in, so I should be able to pull up a record of that, too.”
Officer Scarpa gestured past the villa’s manager, who was now grumbling at the taller police officer but was
The door shook with another pounding just as she reached for the handle, causing her to gasp. Slowly, she opened it to the officers. “Good morning,” she managed. “How can I help you?”
“My name is Officer Scarpa. I am with the Cateri police. Is Mr. Robards here?” This from the shorter of the two officers, the one who must’ve called out in English.
“No. I’m Kelly Chase. We booked this villa together.”
The man in the black slacks had stopped pacing to study her when she opened the door, but now he said something in rapid Italian she didn’t understand, though she did catch the words Signor Robards , telefonato , and Euros .
“I’m sorry,” she said to the officers, “but my Italian is very limited. What is the problem, exactly?”
“The manager says that this villa was reserved by a Mr. Robards. But yesterday afternoon, a man claiming to be Mr. Robards called and said that he had been unable to make his flight. He said he would forfeit the deposit and cancel the reservation. The manager, he explained to this man that his wife gave the key to a woman claiming to be Mrs. Robards yesterday morning. Mr. Robards assured him that there is no Mrs. Robards and that he is unmarried. He demanded that the manager accept the deposit and cancel the reservation, because this is what is in the contract.”
She stared at the officer, becoming more dumbfounded with every word he uttered. She muttered, more to herself than to the officer, “You have got to be kidding me.”
“No.” Officer Scarpa’s voice was level. “There is no kidding. This is why we are here.”
“I see.” Anger boiled in her gut. How dare he?
Ted had to have heard that she decided to take the honeymoon alone. Even if he hadn’t, if he’d called to cancel and was told there was a Mrs. Robards who’d checked in to the villa, he should’ve known that it was her.
And what right did he have to cancel and forfeit the deposit, anyway? She’d paid for it. With her own hard-earned money. Money made from selling her business. Her heart and soul. How he had the nerve—
The jaded looks on the officers’ faces as they waited for her to speak suddenly horrified her more than the thought of what Ted had done. Without having heard her side of the story, the two men assumed she was the person at fault in this situation. Not Ted. And they had the villa’s manager wearing a rift in the gravel driveway behind them as if to confirm it.
Mustering her most businesslike, placid tone, she explained, “As I said, my name is Kelly Chase. Mr. Robards and I booked this villa together for our honeymoon. However—”
The taller officer interrupted in Italian. Officer Scarpa grunted in response without taking his eyes off Kelly. The grunt sounded ominous.
Before Kelly could continue her explanation, Officer Scarpa said, “Please, do you have your passport? And papers proving that you have paid for this? The manager, he says that only Mr. Robards was named on the reservation, though it was made for two persons.”
Not true , she wanted to argue. She’d made the reservation herself and had given the manager’s wife both names when she booked. As tightly as Sarcaccia clung to its old world traditions, the woman must have only written down Ted’s name. But she could show them proof. She angled a thumb behind her. “I have my passport inside. I don’t have the confirmation, but if I can access a computer, I can pull up the reservation info and my e-mail communications with the manager’s wife. The final payment was set to come automatically from my bank yesterday after I checked in, so I should be able to pull up a record of that, too.”
Officer Scarpa gestured past the villa’s manager, who was now grumbling at the taller police officer but was
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