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“You will want William O'Toole then.” Mrs. Munari gave Biscotti the last bite of her sandwich. “Alicia asked me about finding someone who knew about Ireland and sold Irish stuff here in Venice. I told her to see William O'Toole. He has a shop over by Piazza San Marco. He dabbles in all kinds of things but specializes in Irish knick-knacks.” Mrs. Munari stopped. “She was killed right after that. She’d gone out to see him and never made it.” The older woman reached across the table and briefly squeezed Riss’s hand before grabbing her plate and heading to the sink.
“Thanks.” She finished up her sandwich as the couple buzzed around the kitchen cleaning and prepping for the next meal they’d serve. How was she going to get to O'Toole’s shop? Was it even open today? Today was Monday. Had it really only been Friday night that she stood on that bridge? Everything had changed since then. Almost drowning in the canal had kicked it all off and then meeting Cash in the square, then Umberti, and being shot at, Vanessa breaking into her room. It had been an action packed few days. No wonder she was completely out of sorts.
Now how was she going to get to see O'Toole? If Mrs. Munari was to be believed, Alicia had been killed going to see the man. How could she manage it? She could tell Cash and ask for his help. Yeah, no. No way. She’d rather risk it on her own.
First things first, she had to get out of the house. All the entrances and exits had cameras. She started as Mrs. Munari put tea and a plate of cookies in front of her.
“I thought you might enjoy a cup, cara,” Mrs. Munari said with a wink.
Riss picked up a cookie and took a bite. It was a biscotti. She glanced down and the dog was sitting next to her leg. She broke off a morsel and handed it to the animal as she mused about her escape. There was one door that wasn’t monitored. She watched the dog chew his cookie. Could she fit through it? She was damn sure going to try.
“Thanks for lunch. I’m going to go up and grab a jacket. Do you think you could show me where Mr. O'Toole’s shop is on a map?”
“Of course.” Mrs. Munari looked skeptical. “But are you sure you want to go? After what happened?”
“I need to do this,” Riss replied and then took off for her room. Five minutes later, Riss returned with a black puffy jacket and her purse slung across her body. She’d left her phone upstairs in her room. She didn’t want Cash to track her, and after making plans to sneak in and out of the house undetected, she wasn’t going to risk his ability to locate her if she brought her phone.
“Going out?” Poppy asked from where she stood at the counter. “Dominick is just making me some hot chocolate. Looks like rain and I thought it would be nice to have a cup.”
“Have to get some souvenirs to take home for my friends. You know how it is.”
“Don’t I just,” Poppy said with a laugh. Dominick handed her the mug of hot chocolate. “Well, good luck. Hope you stay dry.”
“Thanks, Poppy.” Riss drew in a breath. She needed all the luck she could get.”
Mrs. Munari said, “Now let me see,” and pulled out her phone. She showed Riss where O’Toole’s shop was and how to get there.
“If Cash asks where I’ve gone, can you tell him you don’t know? He’s been a bit…overprotective.”
Mrs. Munari frowned. “I really don’t like to lie to Cash. How about I give you a head start and if he asks, I can be quite vague? Does that work?”
She grinned. “Perfect.” A small wave of guilt hit her. She wouldn’t want to cause the elderly couple any trouble, but she needed to go do this on her own. Umberti didn’t know about this so he couldn’t warn anyone where she’d be. That took a lot of risk out of the equation. And if she left by the dog door, no one would see her go. Chances were excellent she wouldn’t be followed.
If she stuck to the main thoroughfares where all the tourists were there was less chance someone would try to shoot her. Or at least that’s what she was telling herself. Of course, she could also argue that her plan was beyond foolish. What she wanted to do was dangerous. But she had come to Venice for answers, and dammit, she was about to get some.
“I’ll take Biscotti out with me in the yard,” she said as she opened the back door.
“Thank you, miss,” Dominick said as he looked up from his baking.
Biscotti happily trotted at her side as she stepped into the garden. She went over to the wall and then bent down to examine the dog door. Even though Biscotti was a large dog, the door looked tiny. It would be a tight squeeze, but she figured she could do it.
She’d been worried about the cameras, but she’d asked Dominick and he’d told her they were pointed toward the door to the alley and the back of the garden. The walls were so high, they weren’t worried about people scaling them and even if they did, there was a camera pointed at the door to the house so they would see if someone tried to enter.
Biscotti stood beside her and she told him to sit. He sat and she pushed the door. It clicked open and she pushed her purse through and then crawled through after it. It was damn hard since it opened into a very narrow space. Alley wasn’t the word. It was more like a skinny gap between two buildings. No sunlight peeked between the tall structures, making the path dark and a little ominous. She finally managed to get her legs through and stand up. Her shoulders touched the stone wall on each side.
She cocked her head and listened for signs anyone had seen her escape. Nothing. She put her purse over her head, slung it across her body, and then pulled the zipper on her coat higher. Riss started making her way through the tight space and into the light. She was on her way to find out more about her family. She hoped it wouldn’t kill her before she found out the truth.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Feeling a little proud of herself for making it this far, she hurried to the end and peeked her head out. No one was in the back lane area. Again, it was just a narrow pass-through, but she turned right and walked behind the house next door and then turned left and found a street out to the main thoroughfare. She was super glad getting to O'Toole’s shop did not involve getting into a boat. That might have been too much for her to manage. She had no idea how one called a water taxi.
She made her way toward the shop without needing to consult the directions Mrs. Munari had provided. A short while later she located the small shop not far from St. Mark’s Square. The sign above the door was ornately carved with O'Toole’s. The window showed all kinds of Venetian masks, mixed with Celtic crosses and some pretty rocks.
Riss took a deep breath and went in. The shop was about the same size as Umberti’s but it was brighter inside. The walls were decorated with prints of rolling green hills and farm animals. Celtic crosses of all kinds were hung in various spots along with different jewelry featuring Celtic knots and the like. She touched her pendant for good luck.
“Can I help you?” a voice said.
Riss turned to find a young woman at the counter. Disappointment rocked through her. It hadn’t occurred to her that William O'Toole wouldn’t be there. Stupid. She’d never even considered it. “I was hoping to speak to William O'Toole?”
