Part 24 (2/2)
She stumbled; he caught her arm. They headed through narrow streets to catch a vaporetto to Anna Maria's ball.
Ragnor watched them go.
He waited until he was certain they had rounded the corner. Then he tested the lock again. The doors were firmly bolted. He looked around the square.
Darkness, shadows. No amblers pa.s.sing through.
Then he entered the palazzo.
The foyer was empty. There was no sign of a struggle. Marble floors gleamed. ”Tiff!”
he said, calling the woman's name.
He walked up the stairs, to the balcony, through the rooms. He came to the master suite. Nothing appeared to be amiss. The great bed was neatly made in its silken splendor.
He turned and started to leave, but then, the faintest hint of an odor teased his senses.
Blood.
He came to the bed, stared at the silk.
There, the tiniest drop.
Perhaps Nari hadn't meant to, but she had left her calling card.
”Marisa, come on!”
Marisa Kosolovich turned her head to see that her friends, Josef, Ari and Lizabet, were waiting for her.
She tossed back the rich wealth of her auburn hair, impatiently. They'd been standing at the bar at the trattoria, and while her friends had spent some of their precious money on their own espressos, she had managed to get hers bought for her by the tall Italian man in the handsome suit. He wasn't young, but he wasn't old, somewhere between thirty and forty. He was very appealing, a businessman with bright hazel eyes and a quick smile.
She'd chatted about her arrival with her friends-making it sound as if they had come by plane and were young people seeing the world, rather than a group from a war-torn nation on a bus that was now parked near the train station. They were nearly broke, sleeping on the bus that had brought them here. They were willing to come with no accommodations and food from home, just so that they might see the sights and sounds of Venice at Carnevale.
She sighed. The others seemed fine with their situation. She was not. She'd actually planned on finding some Americans-they usually had the most money to spend and were easily influenced by any foreign accent. She liked Americans, and she really wanted to get to America. When the soldiers had come to her village to dole out food, they had all been taken with her. She'd developed the plan then to marry and get away, but the troops hadn't stayed long enough for her to get to know any of the men. They had told her, though, that she was beautiful. They had said it with their eyes as well as their words.
And more than anything, she wanted to get away.
Carnevale was always full of foreigners-lots of them American. She had been certain that in the two nights the bus stayed in Venice she could find the right person.
She had chosen the trattoria for their splurge, and there hadn't been a single American in it. But the Italian had been cute and kind, buying her an espresso and offering her something to eat. She'd accepted the espres...o...b..t demurred on the food, though G.o.d knew why, she was hungry enough. She didn't want to look hungry, that must be it. And she didn't want to look like a woman who would balloon into someone as round as a tomato in a few years.
Lizabet was at the door, looking stern. Ari just looked impatient. Josef was concerned.
They weren't together as couples, just friends. They came from the same village. Or what was left of it.
She lifted a finger, ready to swing back into conversation with the tall Italian businessman. But, to her disappointment, he had turned to his friends. Some sporting event had come on the television over the bar, and his back was actually to her.
”Marisa! The music starts in the square any minute! ”Josef announced. Tall, skinny and awkward, Josef had gone the last few years without enough to eat.
She left the bar and came to the door. ”Marisa, you mustn't just attach yourself to people like that. They will get the wrong idea.”
Ari and Lizabet were already walking ahead. ”And what would the wrong idea be, Josef?” she asked.
”That you are easy, that we are easy-that we are left with no pride, no sense of self- worth.”
”That would be a wrong idea?” she queried.
”Our home has been through a great deal. We should have a stronger character,” he admonished.
”Our home is a h.e.l.lhole, and soldiers will come again and again. Bombs will fall.”
Josef shook his head. ”No, there is peace now. And we will rebuild.”
”You will rebuild. I'm not going home.”
Josef looked at her with surprise. ”What do you mean?”
”I'm staying in Venice.”
”You cannot stay in Venice. You don't have papers. You don't speak Italian!”
”I'll learn.”
”And what will you do?”
”Get by.” ”How?”
”I'll make friends.”
”You'll be a prost.i.tute.”
”I'll make friends,” she hissed to him. ”Look, Josef, you tell me all the time that I am beautiful. I will manage on that.”
”To me you are beautiful. There are scores of beautiful young women. To me, you are special. To others .. .”
”To others-what?”
”You are ... too loose.”
”I'll be what I need to be!” she said angrily. ”I am attractive only to you, eh?”
She walked on ahead, angrily. She pa.s.sed Lizabet and Ari. ”Hey!” Ari called, ”now you're in such a hurry?”
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