Page 33 of Bloodlines and Birthright

The bell in the tower rang out, signaling time for prayer. Brother Eduardo closed the stable door on the donkey. As he crossed the forecourt with another monk, he bowed his head and attempted a subtle glance in our direction.

The abbot caught him looking. Brother Eduardo hurried onward.

“It is time for prayer, and for you to leave,” the abbot said to us.

Oscar wasn’t giving up, however. “Did you call Scala those names because he’s a magician? Or is there a more personal reason?”

The abbot’s nostrils flared, then he turned and walked off toward the chapel.

“I don’t blame him for ignoring you,” I told Oscar as we left the abbey. “You insulted him by suggesting personal knowledge of a man whose proclivities are known to be against the teachings of the church.”

“I think I must side with Mr. Barratt on this, Professor,” Miss Wheeler said. “Time was of the essence. Directness will always get a reaction, if not an answer. The abbot’s reaction of stiff silence tells us Mr. Barratt’s question hit a nerve.”

Oscar seemed to puff up a little with her praise. “Thank you, Miss Wheeler. I’m glad we now know why he argued with Colombo, but I wish we’d gotten an answer out of him about Scala.”

“Do we need one?” I asked. “It’s quite obvious that his opinion is negative because he knows Scala likes men.”

“And is a magician,” Miss Wheeler added.

“Yes to both,” Oscar said. “But why call Scala greedy?”

He made a good point. One that I was ashamed I hadn’t considered. I’d blamed Oscar for being fixated on Signore Scala’s proclivities—and Brother Eduardo’s, too—but perhaps I was the one with the fixation. Oscar had moved on and focused on something else entirely.

I wasn’t the only one who’d overlooked the abbot calling Signore Scala greedy. Miss Wheeler also seemed impressed by Oscar’s observation if the admiration in her gaze was an indication. “It could just mean that he knows Signore Scala’s reputation as a ruthless businessman,” she pointed out.

“It could,” Oscar said. “But if so, why not just tell us? I think it means something else. I think he knows Signore Scala better than he lets on.”

Chapter 11

Dark clouds gathered ominously above the distant mountains on the other side of the lake. On the Monteoro side, dark forces of the human kind also gathered ominously. It was Miss Wheeler who alerted us to the man from the boatshed talking to a third man down one of the narrow alleys. We hurried on before they spotted us but stopped once we knew we couldn’t be seen.

“We should follow De Angelis,” Oscar said. “We need to find out where he’s staying.”

There was only one reason he’d want to know where De Angelis was staying. “We are not breaking into his house to search for the spell, Oscar. That’s too dangerous.”

“I agree,” Miss Wheeler said before he could protest. “He might be the murderer.”

“We don’t know that,” Oscar said. “In fact, we don’t know if he’s a danger at all. We’ve not seen him raise so much as a finger to harm anyone. Condemning someone because they look like a thug isn’t fair.”

He had a point, but I wasn’t convinced of De Angelis’s full and complete innocence. We may not have seen him commit the murder, but there was no denying he was at the scene. It was highly suspicious.

“I want to know where he lives and who he associates with.” Oscar put his back to the wall painted in mustard yellow and inched his way to the corner. He peered around then signaled for us to join him. “There’s a fourth man wearing a leather apron, making shooing motions at the other three.”

“He’s telling them to leave,” Miss Wheeler translated. “He says he’s a humble, hardworking shoemaker and he wants nothing to do with troublemakers from the city. He wants them to leave Monteoro before they scare away the tourists.”

Someone responded with a few growling words then there was a thud that had Oscar pushing away from the wall. The only thing stopping him from entering the alley was Miss Wheeler, gripping his arm hard.

From my position behind the other two, I couldn’t see down the alley. “What happened?”

“The Angel punched the shoemaker in the stomach,” Miss Wheeler whispered. “He fell back against the door. A woman has come out now.”

The woman shrieked at the top of her lungs, her words running together. Miss Wheeler shook her head, unable to translate.

“The men are leaving,” Oscar reported. “They’re heading in the opposite direction from us. I’m going to follow.”

Miss Wheeler released him, but I grabbed him again. “Are you mad?” I snapped.

“Return to the hotel if you prefer, Gavin.” He wrenched free of my grip and headed into the alley.