Part 38 (1/2)
”No! I didn't take any trips to Oz!”
Raphael stared at her blankly.
”I'm telling you, I didn't imagine anything.”
Raphael flashed his mini-light around the corners of the church. There was nothing to be seen anywhere. Not even a rat scurried across the floor.
”You saw Ragnor.”
”Yes.”
”In front of you?”
”At the door.”
”And he walked up to you and hit you on the head?”
”I-no!” she murmured, confused herself for a moment She had seen Ragnor, yes. He had been shouting at her, hadn't he? Telling her to come to him. And she had thrown something at him ... a hymnal.
”I don't know.”
The church was very dark, and more deeply shadowed than ever with Raphael's little mini-light flas.h.i.+ng around. He s.h.i.+vered.
”Let's get out of here.”
”Wait, one second!” she whispered. She walked back to the altar, running her fingers over it. ”Raphael, she was here! There's not a speck of dust on this altar. Look at this place-if something hadn't been there, there would be dust!”
”We'll get the police,” Raphael said. Maybe Roberto Capo would be back in the station at last Whether they mocked her or not, she had to tell them what she had seen.
”All right. But we're not leaving this area. Things- change around here, far too quickly.”
He nodded, ”We'll call from the public phone down the calle. But Jordan, please, let's get out of here.”
They started down the aisle-two rational human beings, walking at a steady gait She sped up a little to catch up with him. He hurried more; she sped up again. They were running by the time they reached the door and burst out upon the steps.
Jordan nearly tripped. She would have done so, and sprawled right down on to the fountain if Raphael hadn't been there to catch her.
He kept her arm as they came down the steps and studied her gravely.
”I didn't come running out and trip and wind up knocked out by the fountain,” she told him firmly.
”Let me see your head,” he told her, touching her temple.
”Not there! On the back of my head. How could I have stumbled forward and hit myself on the back of my head?” she demanded.
He shrugged. ”We'll call the police.”
”Make sure you get the right station, and ask for Roberto Capo.”
They walked to the edge of the campo where there was an enclosed public phone.
Raphael called the operator, then frowned.
”Which is the station you want?”
”Near the Danieli! I'm a tourist, I don't know the address. You should know!”
”I'm a law-abiding citizen. I never call the police.”
”Roberto is your friend! You should know.”
He swore softly in Italian. ”Si, si, I have the number.” He rattled off something to the operator; she put him through. He spoke for a minute, then covered the mouthpiece. ”Capo won't be in today; he has a fever.”
She could hear someone speaking into the phone. Raphael winced. ”Alfredo Manetti is on the line.”
Jordan threw up her hands. Convincing him of anything was impossible. She'd have to deliver her own head on a silver platter for him to believe that something was really wrong.
Raphael started speaking. He talked a long time.
He gave Jordan a number of sideways glances, and talked some more.
He hung up. ”They are coming,” he told her. ”Come on, we'll get you a drink-”
”I don't want a drink; no alcohol.”
”You may have a concussion, yet? Big b.u.mp, bruise on the bone. No alcohol; you're right. But a cafe or te-we'll probably have a few minutes to wait. I told him that no, it wasn't exactly an emergency. No one is in danger at the moment.”
Jordan wondered if that was true. Looking around the campo, she s.h.i.+vered. She heard no hisses, whispers or wings. The shadows stretched long in the night, but they weren't moving.
Still, she felt as if they were being watched. As if evil eyes looked out at them from the darkness.
”Coffee will be fine,” she murmured.
They walked back to the trattoria. The same kind host met them. Before Jordan knew it, Raphael explained that she'd had an accident. The host's mother was there, and brought ice cubes and cold water and hot tea. She wanted Jordan's feet propped up. She was so kind and considerate that Jordan felt guilty.
It occurred to her to ask Raphael how he had come to be there. He seemed baffled.
”You called.”
”I called?”
”You called the shop and left me a message.”
She shook her head. ”I never called the shop.”
”Well, someone did. I didn't take the call. Lynn answered and wrote down the message.
I think she was jealous that you asked me to come, maybe, and not her.”
”But I didn't call!”