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Standing, looking out over my university, I smile to myself. Holding up a glass of scotch in a toast, I tip my head to the side.
“To the underdogs and downtrodden of society, may you always get this lucky.”
Taking a sip, the liquid burns my throat, and I acknowledge I’ve been bested.
“Drinking alone?”
Turning, I see Bernardo Valli. Frowning, I walk purposely toward him and shut the door to my office.
“What are you doing here?”
The man is five foot ten, fit, but dresses like he’s an extra in a mob movie—long leather jacket, red silk shirt with far too many buttons open, and jeans. Even his hair is slicked back.
“I got a package and thought you might be interested in getting it back?”
He’s holding a long tube, opens it, and pulls out a rolled-up canvas.
“There are ways and means of contacting me,Mr. Valli. Coming here isn’t one of those options.”
The man shrugs and unrolls the canvas. It’sWoman III, my favorite. Walking to my desk, I pull out a handkerchief and take the painting from him.
“You shouldn’t handle precious art with your bare hands,” I scold him.
He shrugs and throws a hand in the air. “The man said I was to deliver this to youpersonally.”
Laying her out on my desk, I admire the brushstrokes and how she sits triumphantly in the middle of the canvas.
“Ahh,” says Bernardo, trying to gain my attention.
My eyes flick to him and then back to my painting. “Yes?”
“There’s a letter for you. I didn’t open it.”
Doubting he’s actually not read the letter, I hold out a hand, and he reaches into his leather jacket and pulls out a cream envelope. He passes it to me, and it appears as though he hasn’t opened it.
Using a letter opener, I slice through the top of the envelope.
It was your favorite.
I thought it only fitting that it should be returned to you.
Think of it as a parting gift from me to you.
Goodbye, Jonathan. May we never cross paths again.
W
My nostrils flare, and I glare at Bernardo. “Who gave this to you?”
He shrugs, and his voice lowers. “He was scary as fuck. I came home, and he was sitting at my dining room table. The man knew all there was to know about me. Told me to deliver this to you, and if I was lucky, and I can tell you, I hope I’m fucking lucky, that I never see him again.” Bernardo crosses himself and kisses his thumb, raising to the god he worships.
“What did the man look like?”
Bernardo shrugs again. “Average height and build. Nothing remarkable. It was his voice, it was…” He shakes his head. “Anyway, I’m done. We’re done. Don’t ask me to do anything else for you, Stonewall. I don’t want no wraith after me.”
“Wraith?”
“Yeah, I swear to God, I followed him outside, turned around, and there was nothing there, not even a shadow. He disappeared like a wraith in the night. Gave me the willies.”
