Part 16 (1/2)

”I believe he means Michelangelo Buonarotti,” Max said.

I was still confused. ”Michelan . . . Oh! That That Buonarotti?” Buonarotti?”

”No, no, really,” said the don modestly. ”No relation, I a.s.sure you.”

”Fine,” I said. ”Whatever. Lucky? We need to talk.”

Lucky was frowning at me. ”What are you wearing? You can't come into church dressed like that!”

”I have a date,” I said tersely. ”Anyhow, there's nothing wrong with the way I'm dressed.” I was wearing a sleeveless black dress with a beaded bodice that showed some cleavage, complimented by a silky, translucent wrap that was currently slung over my arm. It was my s.e.xiest dress, and it had been too long since I'd had occasion to wear it. Okay, it wasn't what I would choose to wear to temple, on the two occasions per year that I go so that my mother won't nag me, but it certainly wasn't indecent.

”Of course there's nothing wrong with it,” said Father Gabriel. ”I think you look lovely, Esther. Your date is a lucky man.”

”Thank you.” I smiled at the handsome priest. Lucky frowned at me and stepped on my foot.

”Nothing wrong at all,” Buonarotti agreed. ”You look cla.s.sy. A real eyeful.”

”Ain't you got nothin' else to do with your time?” Lucky said, glaring at Buonarotti.

”Oh, I guess I can find something to occupy me elsewhere.” Buonarotti rolled his eyes. ”After all, I wouldn't wanna intrude on you and your doctor and your fine cla.s.sical actress, now would I?” He chuckled at his own wry wit. ”No, definitely not. So I guess I'll be leaving.” He turned to the priest. ”Always a pleasure to see you, Father.”

”You're always welcome here, Michael.”

”Now get lost,” said Lucky.

”Someday, Lucky,” Buonarotti said with a cold look, ”you'll go too far.”

”You can count on it.”

Buonarotti's glare grew threatening. Then with a suddenness that I found chilling, he banished the look and turned a cheerful smile on me and Max. ”Miss Diamond. Dr. Zadok. A pleasure to meet you both.”

As we watched Don Michael Buonarotti leave, Max murmured doubtfully, ”That man comes here to pray?”

Lucky snorted. ”He comes here to hit on the widow. Ever since his wife got sick of his skirt chasing and dumped him.”

”The Widow Giacalona doesn't exactly strike me as a 'skirt,' ” I said.

”Of course, she ain't! But Buonarotti wants a new wife,” Lucky said with a dark scowl. ”In addition to his skirts.”

”And he's pursuing her in church?” I said.

”I don't question why people enter the house of G.o.d,” Father Gabriel said. ”I just give thanks that they do do. Especially in this neighborhood, where there has been so much bloodshed over the years. Such as the other night.” He took my hand and gazed at me with concern. ”I can only imagine how distressing the events at Bella Stella must have been for you, Esther.”

Those events were worse for Charlie, obviously, but I nodded and said, ”I was very upset.”

”To see a man killed in cold blood right in front of you . . .” The priest shook his head. ”How dreadful for you.”

I didn't want to keep reviewing Charlie's murder, so I changed the subject. ”Lucky says there's a weeping saint here?”

Taking my cue, the priest smiled and gestured to the stone statue of Saint Monica. ”Yes, we're very proud of it. Of course, only Elena Giacalona has seen the saint's tears so far. She's very devout, you know.”

”Prays to Monica twice a day, every day, I gather,” I said.

”Elena's life has been plagued by tragedy and loss,” the priest said sadly.

I glanced at Lucky. ”Indeed.”

”She's had three husbands,” the hit man muttered. ”I only killed one one.”

”All the same, Lucky, you don't think it's maybe a doomed courts.h.i.+p?” I said. ”And also not in the best possible taste?”

Father Gabriel looked at the ceiling and remained tactfully silent. As did Max, whose two marriages, centuries ago, had left him with a strong preference for bachelorhood. Which was just as well, since, for mystical reasons that weren't entirely clear to me, his vocation encouraged celibacy. Much like Father Gabriel's vocation, I realized.

”Elena will come around,” Lucky said. ”I just need to give her time. But never mind that now.” Glancing from me to Max, he said, ”I got someone you need to talk to.”

”And I should prepare for vespers,” said Father Gabriel. ”If you'll excuse me?”

”Of course,” I said.

After the priest exited through a side door, Lucky took my arm. ”Let's take a walk.”

”Oh, good. We're going to sit in the pews?” My feet hurt. I don't usually wear high heels.

”Not this time, kid. We gotta talk in the crypt.”

”The crypt?” I tried to pull my arm out of his grasp. ”I don't want to go into the crypt crypt. Could you possibly suggest a creepier meeting place?”

”A perfectly understandable reaction,” said Max, nodding. ”An underground vault, with all the inherent fear of suffocation and smothering that such places naturally engender in mankind.”

”You're not helping, Max,” I said.

”And there's no denying that a crypt is a shadowy and mysterious chamber rife with negative mythology,” he added. ”Not to mention the atmospheric hint of dark rituals far older than Christianity itself!”

”Nah, it'll be fine,” said Lucky prosaically. ”They got electricity down there and everything.”

”Why can't we talk up here?” I demanded.

”Because whatever's going on, we gotta be discreet,” said Lucky. ”Or whoever's behind this situation might figure out that we're sniffing him out.”

Since this made a certain amount of sense to me, I sighed and agreed to go into the d.a.m.n crypt.

”Watch your language,” Lucky said. ”You're in church.”

9.