familiarity hovered at the edge of her thoughts like an annoying gnat. She concentrated on each name, testing it, turning it over in her mind, but couldn’t pin down the thought. She sat back. “I may have just read about one of these people in the papers in London—something like that.”
A tap sounded on the door, and a young man hurried inside after Alessi called out for him to enter. As the younger man put some paper in front of Alessi and spoke hurriedly in Italian, he caught sight of Gemma and delivered the last of his information, his gaze fastened on her. He spoke so rapidly she couldn’t understand a word. Alessi snapped out a few orders and shooed the man out of his office. He left, rubbernecking and smiling at Gemma. He nearly ran into the doorframe on his way out.
Alessi picked up a cell phone and made for the door.
Gemma jumped up. “Wait. Where are you going?” She grabbed her purse and followed him.
Alessi hurried down the hall. “Signor Throckmorton rented an apartment near the Pantheon,” he said over his shoulder. He was moving so quickly that she only caught up with him outside the building as he reached for the handle of a dark blue sedan labeled with the word “Carabinieri” in white.
Gemma moved to the passenger side. “I’m coming with you.” She had expected a bit of pushback—most investigators were territorial—and she was in Italy, where machismo wasn’t exactly unheard of, after all. But she hadn’t expected him to simply walk—no run—away from her.
She tensed for an argument, but he tipped his head to the side and waved her into the car. “Certainly.”
He put on the lights and siren, gunned the engine, and slipped into a tiny opening between a delivery truck and a motor scooter. Gemma cringed, automatically swinging her feet to the side, as the motor scooter surged up to her door then braked hard, seconds before the impact.
“They always stop.” Alessi raised his voice over the noise of the siren. “Romans are good drivers.”
They would have to be, Gemma decided as she watched Alessi and several other Carabinieri cars, which had followed them, sweep in and out of traffic with casual abandon.
Alessi said, “You are surprised,”
“At the traffic?” Gemma asked.
“No, that I didn’t leave you.” Alessi shifted gears and powered around a slow moving hatchback.
“I thought you might not want me,” she said candidly.
“Nigel sent you,” he said, as if it settled everything. “I trust him, so I trust you.” Gemma nodded. Of course, the two department heads would have met, probably at conferences over the years. “And,” he raised his finger to emphasize his point, “you saw the stack of files on my desk, no? There is no end to the crime. I will take all the help I can get. I apologize for hurrying away from you. When there is a good lead, it is all I see.” He cupped one hand around his eyes like a blinder on a horse. “It is all that matters.”
So not machismo, but pursuit of the case that had him leaving her in the dust, she thought and put it down to the passionate Italian nature. She couldn’t imagine Nigel sprinting down the hall after a hot lead. He was about as likely to do that as he was to jump up in the middle of a meeting and dance a jig.
“But I will not forget you again,” Alessi said.
“Good. Because I won’t let you.”
Alessi slowed down for a red light, checked the traffic, and then crossed the intersection.
“How much farther?” Gemma asked.
“Ten minutes more if we are lucky with the traffic.”
Chapter Eight
“So, I say before we leave, we take the place apart.” Zoe looked around the room, assessing it for possible hiding places.
“You think he hid the Flawless Set here?”
“Why not?” She looked pointedly at the files. “He obviously didn’t think anyone would be looking around, or he would never have left those files out.”
“True. Okay, I’ll look at the rest of the desk.”
“Then I’ve
A tap sounded on the door, and a young man hurried inside after Alessi called out for him to enter. As the younger man put some paper in front of Alessi and spoke hurriedly in Italian, he caught sight of Gemma and delivered the last of his information, his gaze fastened on her. He spoke so rapidly she couldn’t understand a word. Alessi snapped out a few orders and shooed the man out of his office. He left, rubbernecking and smiling at Gemma. He nearly ran into the doorframe on his way out.
Alessi picked up a cell phone and made for the door.
Gemma jumped up. “Wait. Where are you going?” She grabbed her purse and followed him.
Alessi hurried down the hall. “Signor Throckmorton rented an apartment near the Pantheon,” he said over his shoulder. He was moving so quickly that she only caught up with him outside the building as he reached for the handle of a dark blue sedan labeled with the word “Carabinieri” in white.
Gemma moved to the passenger side. “I’m coming with you.” She had expected a bit of pushback—most investigators were territorial—and she was in Italy, where machismo wasn’t exactly unheard of, after all. But she hadn’t expected him to simply walk—no run—away from her.
She tensed for an argument, but he tipped his head to the side and waved her into the car. “Certainly.”
He put on the lights and siren, gunned the engine, and slipped into a tiny opening between a delivery truck and a motor scooter. Gemma cringed, automatically swinging her feet to the side, as the motor scooter surged up to her door then braked hard, seconds before the impact.
“They always stop.” Alessi raised his voice over the noise of the siren. “Romans are good drivers.”
They would have to be, Gemma decided as she watched Alessi and several other Carabinieri cars, which had followed them, sweep in and out of traffic with casual abandon.
Alessi said, “You are surprised,”
“At the traffic?” Gemma asked.
“No, that I didn’t leave you.” Alessi shifted gears and powered around a slow moving hatchback.
“I thought you might not want me,” she said candidly.
“Nigel sent you,” he said, as if it settled everything. “I trust him, so I trust you.” Gemma nodded. Of course, the two department heads would have met, probably at conferences over the years. “And,” he raised his finger to emphasize his point, “you saw the stack of files on my desk, no? There is no end to the crime. I will take all the help I can get. I apologize for hurrying away from you. When there is a good lead, it is all I see.” He cupped one hand around his eyes like a blinder on a horse. “It is all that matters.”
So not machismo, but pursuit of the case that had him leaving her in the dust, she thought and put it down to the passionate Italian nature. She couldn’t imagine Nigel sprinting down the hall after a hot lead. He was about as likely to do that as he was to jump up in the middle of a meeting and dance a jig.
“But I will not forget you again,” Alessi said.
“Good. Because I won’t let you.”
Alessi slowed down for a red light, checked the traffic, and then crossed the intersection.
“How much farther?” Gemma asked.
“Ten minutes more if we are lucky with the traffic.”
Chapter Eight
“So, I say before we leave, we take the place apart.” Zoe looked around the room, assessing it for possible hiding places.
“You think he hid the Flawless Set here?”
“Why not?” She looked pointedly at the files. “He obviously didn’t think anyone would be looking around, or he would never have left those files out.”
“True. Okay, I’ll look at the rest of the desk.”
“Then I’ve
Similar Books
