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Remi peered more closely at the image. Fifty feet behind her blurred figure she could see the hood of a cream-colored car jutting from the mouth of a shadowed alley. Behind the wheel a man stared at them through a pair of binoculars.
CHAPTER 24
Playing the carefree tourist, Remi smiled and pressed her face against Sam’s as they looked at the LCD screen. “Our friendly tailgaters,” she whispered through her smile. “A coincidence?”
“I’d like to think so, but the binoculars make me nervous. Unless he’s an urban bird-watcher—”
“Or he’s stalking an ex-girlfriend—”
“I think we’d better assume the worst.”
“Do you see the other one around, the one with the mustache?”
“No. Come on, let’s go in. Act casual. Don’t look around.”
They entered the museum, stopped at the welcome desk, and asked for Cipriani. The receptionist picked up the phone and spoke a few words in Italian, and a few moments later a portly man with thinning salt-and-pepper hair appeared in the doorway to their right.
“Buon giorno,” the man said. “Posso aiutarla?”
“You’re up, Remi,” Sam said. While they both spoke several languages, Italian had for some reason always flummoxed him; Remi was the same way with German, which came naturally to Sam.
“Buon giorno,” she said. “Signor Cipriani?”
“Sì.”
“Parla inglese?”
Cipriani smiled broadly. “I speak English, yes. But your Italian is very good. How can I help you?”
“My name is Remi Fargo. This is my husband, Sam.” They all shook hands.
“I’ve been expecting you,” Cipriani said.
“Is there somewhere we might speak in private?”
“Certainly. My office is this way.”
He led them down a short hallway to an office with a window overlooking the piazza. They all sat down and Sam pulled Yvette’s letter from his pocket and handed it across to Cipriani, who scanned it carefully, then handed it back.
“Forgive me . . . may I see some identification, please?”
Sam and Remi handed over their passports, then took them back when Cipriani was done. He asked, “And how is Yvette? Well, I hope.”
“She is,” Sam replied. “She sends her regards.”
“And her cat, Moira, it is well?”
“It’s a dog, actually, and its name is Henri.”
Cirpriani spread his hands and smiled sheepishly. “I’m a cautious man, perhaps overly so. Yvette has entrusted me with this matter. I want to be sure I’m worthy of it.”
“We understand,” Remi said. “How long have you known her?”
“Oh, twenty years or more. She has a villa here, outside the cas tello. There were some legal issues in connection to the land. I was able to help her.”
“You’re an attorney?”
“Oh, no. I simply know people who know people.”
