AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Raven stopped. “When?”
“The night you had dinner with Gina and me.”
“Agent Savola,” she whispered.
“That’s right. That was his name.”
Shakily, she leaned against the wardrobe door.
She had no idea that it was Agent Savola who’d popped out of the shadows the night the feral appeared. That he was the man who’d given his life trying to save her.
Her stomach heaved.
“Are you okay?” Patrick peered at her face.
“I think so. Why did the inspector tell you that?”
“I have no idea. I saw him talking to Dottor Vitali a few minutes ago. Neither of them looked happy.”
Patrick jerked his chin at her wrist. “For the love of God, hide that. You don’t want to be conspicuous with the inspector walking around.”
Raven pulled her cardigan over the bracelet, hiding it.
“Thanks, Patrick. I’ll be careful.”
Slowly but surely, she made her way across the room and down the hall to the restoration lab, wondering what Batelli and Vitali had been talking about.
Just as she was about to put her hand on the door, she stopped.
Probably there were witnesses who’d seen her, along with Agent Savola and the feral.
Raven didn’t know what to do with the realization. It was bad enough having captured Batelli’s interest in connection with the theft of the illustrations; she didn’t want his attention in connection with Savola’s murder.
And there was also the matter of Bruno’s attack, which William said he had handled. But had he?
She contemplated telephoning Ambrogio with a message for William, but decided against it. She was going to be late for work and didn’t want to upset Professor Urbano.
William was probably resting somewhere, anyway, out of the sunlight.
Raven spent the morning in Botticelli’s world, painstakingly applying a coat of varnish to the Birth of Venus.
Professor Urbano had decided that Anja, her replacement, had not progressed at an acceptable pace. There was also some question about the quality of her work. Urbano simply replaced her, assigning her to another project.
Raven was sympathetic with Anja’s plight and moderated her joy at being able to return to the lab. But it was with undisguised delight that she sat on a high stool, slowly and carefully restoring one of the greatest works of art in the world.
“Dottoressa Wood.”
Raven heard the voice but dimly. She was working on the figure of Zephyr, marveling at the way his face differed from the Zephyr who appeared in William’s version of Primavera.
She heard footsteps and the slight clearing of a throat.
She turned to her left and saw Professor Urbano standing there. He was smiling.
“Can I look?” He gestured to the patch she’d been working on.
“Of course.” Raven put her supplies in order and obligingly climbed down. She pointed out what she’d accomplished and where she’d left off.
She removed her glasses and waited nervously for him to pass judgment.
He took her place and used a series of magnifying glasses and other instruments to check her progress. When he descended from the stool, he was smiling.
“Very fine work. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
“I think now is a good time for lunch.”
She looked around, noticing that their colleagues had already left.
“Before I go, Professor Urbano, could I ask you a few questions?”
“Certo.” He gestured to a nearby set of chairs and they sat down.
“When you worked on the restoration of Primavera, did you ever notice anything about Mercury’s hair?”
Urbano looked puzzled. “Such as?”
“Such as evidence of changes in color or length.”
Urbano looked off into space for a moment, as if he were regarding the painting in his mind’s eye.
“There was some slight change around the edges of the hair, as I recall, but nothing about the color or the overall length. Why do you ask?”
“I thought I saw something in one of the radiographs that suggested Botticelli changed the hair color.”
Urbano smiled. “Impossible. We went over the radiographs very, very carefully. Everything we found was documented and published.”
“Oh.” Raven nodded. “I have a couple of other questions, if you don’t mind.”
He gestured to her to continue.
“Did you know of any other version of Primavera that was painted by Botticelli, perhaps prior to the one upstairs?”
Urbano stroked his chin. “There were studies for the figures and drawings.”
“But not a painting?”
“No. Why?”
“Uh, when I thought I saw something about Mercury’s hair, I wondered if Botticelli had painted a previous version.” She lifted her new glasses. “It was just a thought.”
“Of course.” Professor Urbano gave her a patient smile and excused himself for lunch.
Raven watched him leave, mulling over their conversation.
She considered William’s account of how he’d acquired his Primavera, wondering if that was why no one had ever heard of it.
What she couldn’t understand was why no one seemed to have noticed the change in Mercury’s hair in the Uffizi’s version. She knew evidence of the change was visible. She knew she hadn’t made a mistake.
Your memory hasn’t been that great lately. You can’t even remember what happened the night of the accident.
It occurred to her that William might be the one behind Urbano’s lack of awareness, as he was behind so many odd events. Since Urbano had worked on the restoration of Primavera, he should have seen the change. Perhaps William had adjusted his memory during the restoration.
But why didn’t he delete the records?
Raven didn’t have an answer to that question, but she was determined to ask him. Her need to speak to him reminded her of what Patrick had said earlier about Agent Savola and Ispettor Batelli.
Raven walked with her cane to her knapsack and picked up her new phone. She called Ambrogio.
“Good afternoon, Signorina Wood.” He greeted her in English. “How may I help you?”
Raven grew flustered. “Um, hello, Ambrogio. Can I speak with William?”
“I’m afraid his lordship cannot be disturbed. How may I assist you?”
“Can you give him a message for me? It’s urgent.”
“Of course.”
She paused, feeling awkward. “Can you tell him that, um, the man I saw being attacked in Santo Spirito was an Interpol agent named Savola, who was working with the Carabinieri to investigate the robbery at the Uffizi?”
Raven’s tone grew urgent. “William needs to know this right away. The police haven’t approached me, but one of the officers is here and he spoke to one of my colleagues. Because the agent was attacked in front of my apartment, I’m worried they’ll put it together and come looking for me.”
“Please don’t worry, signorina. I will see that your message reaches his lordship. Is Luka with you?”
“I think he’s outside the gallery, waiting.”
“If there are any problems, go to Luka. He will bring you here.”
“Yes. Yes, thank you.”
“May I help you in any other way?”
Raven sighed. “No. Thank you, Ambrogio. That’s everything.”
“Then good-bye, signorina.”
“Good-bye.”
She ended the call, staring at her cell phone.
She’d passed along the information, but felt far from comforted. At that moment, however, there was nothing she could do.
She lifted her knapsack and began walking toward the door, leaning heavily on her cane.
That was when she saw Ispettor Batelli striding toward her.
“You saw Agent Savola being attacked?” he asked, in Italian.
“What?” She stalled.
“You just said that you saw him. What did you see?”
Raven frowned. “You misunderstood my English. I didn’t say that.”
Batelli swore. “I heard what you said. And my English is perfect. Savola’s Vespa was found outside your apartment.”
“Really? That’s strange.” She forced a smile. “I’m afraid I’m late for my lunch. If you’ll excuse me . . .”
“Who is William?” he asked, intercepting her.
“I have no idea.”
“Your telephone call. You wanted to speak with William. William who?”
“A family friend.” She smiled again. “Now I really have to go.”
She tried to move past him but he stood in front of her.
“William York?”
Raven attempted to hide her recognition, but she suspected she failed based on Batelli’s triumphant expression.
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She skirted him and limped toward the door.
“Why didn’t you call the police? Why didn’t you report it?”
