The Florentine Cypher: Kate Benedict Paranormal Mystery #3 (The Kate Benedict Series) by Carrie Bedford

inside a paperback version of the
Della Pittura
? They had to be a clue, but I couldn’t see it.
    The kitchen went quiet suddenly. I looked up. Claire had stopped whatever she’d been doing and stood in the doorway with a book in her hand. “This was in the knife drawer. It’s a notebook. I think it was Dad’s.”
    She was very pale and tears dripped down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I miss him so much.”
    I went to her and put my arms around her, letting go of the bad feelings I’d had about her for the last thirteen years. We’d been immature teenagers. It was silly to hold a grudge for so long.
    After she’d stopped crying, I led her back into the kitchen and told her to sit down. “You need to take a break for a while,” I said. “I’ll finish dinner.”
    I continued where she’d left off, making two plates of penne with pesto and placing them on the kitchen table.
    She put the notebook on the kitchen counter. “I’ll look at it after dinner,” she said. “Just seeing his handwriting makes me cry, but maybe I’ll feel better with some food inside me.” She stood up and took a bottle of Pinot Grigio from the refrigerator. I wondered if she should have any, considering she was on painkillers for her head injury, but I didn’t say anything and let her pour a glass for me, too.
    While we ate we speculated about what the two old documents could mean. I was impatient to look at her dad’s notebook, but I could see she was on the verge of tears. She needed time to prepare herself to look at it. When we finished eating, I told her to stay seated while I cleaned up. Just as I started rinsing the dishes, her mobile rang. I hoped it would be Ethan, but she shook her head and, talking softly, disappeared into the living room. A few minutes later, after I’d finished washing and drying the plates, she came back, looking a little flushed. “I forgot I was supposed to meet someone for dinner tonight.”
    “A boyfriend?” I asked as I put the kettle on. We hadn’t talked about anything much on the drive up to Venice. In fact, apart from discussing directions from time to time, we’d driven in silence. I’d been preoccupied with trying to unravel the mystery of Ethan’s disappearance, and I assumed Claire had been too.
    “Yes,” she said. “His name is Dante and he owns an art gallery in Florence. We’ve been seeing each other for about four months.”
    “Sounds nice. What did you tell him?”
    She rolled her eyes. “Nothing. I told him that something important had come up and I’d call him in the next couple of days. He offered to come to help with whatever problem I had. And before you say anything, I didn’t tell him where we are.”
    “You did the right thing. The fewer people who know our location the better. Until we find out where Ethan is.”
    Talking of people not knowing where we were, I thought about how I wasn’t going to be at the office tomorrow morning. It wasn’t good. In spite of my recent hard work, Alan had it in his head that I was a flake. And once Alan had an opinion on something, getting him to change his mind was like bending cold metal. Achievable but arduous, with a high risk of cut fingers. Even though he was out of the country, he’d call in first thing on Monday to check that everyone was present and correct. And I wouldn’t be there. But I had no choice. I couldn’t leave until I knew where Ethan was.
    Still, I could only give this another twenty-four hours without risking serious damage to my career. My best plan was to get a flight out of Venice tomorrow evening and be back in the office on Tuesday. Leaving Claire to make tea, I picked up my mobile and called my project manager to tell her that I’d miss work tomorrow. “But I’ll be in first thing on the next day, I promise.”
    “It’s okay.” Laura’s tone was reassuring. “We’re all caught up for now. And if Alan calls tomorrow, I’ll tell him you’re in the loo. See you bright and