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I tap my fingers on the desk. “Show her in.”
Tourists provide rich pickings for organized crime in this city. A problem which has been escalating in recent months.
Fucking Mafia…
Koffler returns.
My eyes widen.
He’s followed by what I can only describe as one of the most beautiful women I’ve seen in my life… and I’ve seen quite a few.
She steps forward, her blue irises sparking with barely concealed annoyance.
“I’ve been conned and then treated like a crook,” she spits out the words.
“Please, take a seat.” I indicate toward the chair opposite. “Do you have any ID on you?”
She retrieves her passport from her purse and gives it to me.
Serafina Martinez.
The name rings a bell and I cock my head to one side.
Marco’s angel…
I smirk to myself.
He’s picked a beauty, but her loveliness might only be skin deep.
“Can you talk me through what happened?” I ask.
She speaks confidently and I listen to her sorry tale. Her tone is spirited. I like that about her. Will I like anything else? I’ll wait a minute before revealing who I am.
She folds her arms. “I never expected anything like this…”
“You’re not the first and you won’t be the last. Not until we catch the perpetrators. They’re slippery as eels and the ticket sellers are too scared to inform on them.”
“Maybe you should put them under surveillance?”
I laugh. “Are you telling me how to do my job?”
She has the grace to blush. “No. Of course not…”
“Good.” I pause for a beat. “I believe you are having dinner with Marcantonio Lorrer and me tonight…”
Her eyes widen. “Marcantonio?” She touches a finger to her pouty lips. “Oh, you mean Marco.” A smile tugs at her mouth. “You must be Alessio?!”
I laugh. “It’s a small world. But first things first. What time did you get on the vaporetto? I will get my men to check with the water bus company that there was actually one of their inspectors on the boat. Also interview the ticket seller.”
I make notes and take her statement before handing it to her to sign.
She checks her watch. “Marco’s sending Giorgio to pick me up at Zattere at seven thirty. That’s in half an hour,” she groans. “I won’t have time to go home and change out of my work clothes…”
“I’ll call him and tell him you’re with me. We can walk from here…”
I do as I suggested, and Marco accuses me of joking when I tell him I’ve met Sefi before he could introduce us. I assure him that I’m being serious, and he voices his concern that she might have been put off having dinner with us after her bad experience on the vaporetto. I hand my cell phone over to her, listening to the warmth in her tone as she speaks to my other half and confirms that she’d still like to hang out with us.
Marco has that effect on everyone he meets. They fall for his charm.
“I bought some fish in the market on my way in this morning,” I say after she has disconnected the call. “I’ll go get it from the fridge and then we can set off.”* * *Half an hour later we’re riding the elevator up to the apartment. Sefi has already expressed amazement at the beauty of the old palazzo. “Marco went out of his way to take me to Zattere yesterday,” she said after we’d turned left at the Accademia Bridge. “You live right on the Grand Canal…”
Marco is waiting for us at the front door. “Welcome, Sefi,” he says, taking her hand and planting a kiss on her wrist. “I’m so sorry for what happened.”
She shrugs. “It was a shock, but I’ve gotten over it now. I’m just pissed at having to pay a sixty Euro fine for something that wasn’t my fault…”
“There’s a problem with tourists travelling on the vaporetti and not buying a ticket beforehand. That’s why they have on-the-spot fines,” I inform her. “But I do understand your anger. Rest assured I will do everything I can to bring the culprits to justice.”
We step into the open-plan living area, and Marco opens a bottle of Prosecco while I head off to the kitchen. I roll up my sleeves and start to prepare our meal. Through the open doorway I watch them. They seem at ease in each other’s company, but Sefi keeps giving me surreptitious looks.
How much has Marco told her about us?
Watching them together, it’s clear from her body language, from the way she leans into him and flicks her hair back from her face, that she’s attracted to him.
She has no clue we are bi-sexual. Is she some kind of fag hag? I dislike the term used to describe women who are sexually attracted to gay men, and I hope she isn’t one of them. Marco and I aren’t gay. We’ve never fucked other men, just each other. First, we were friends, then our affection deepened to love and with that came intimacy. Sometimes I wish we didn’t miss the soft curves of a woman so much, but it goes with the territory of being who we are…
