Murphy's Law Page 10

  Say no? Over her dead body. Faith drew in an outraged breath, but Grif raised his hand before she could speak.

  “Madeleine, the decision is not ours to make. Traditionally, Leonardo draws up the speakers’ list and the workshop panels, and unless something is very wrong, we go along with it.”

  “Well, there’s something wrong here.” Madeleine’s flat chest rose and fell quickly. “Having chaired last year’s meeting, I just naturally assumed—”

  “You co-chaired a panel on a different, though related, subject. That’s not the same thing at all. Faith is the only one here to have written a paper on tipping behavior. And a very good one, too.” He nodded to Faith and her outrage muscles—the ones running from her nape along her shoulders that had got such a workout under Kane—relaxed slightly.

  She had never been close to Madeleine, but by the same token, Madeleine had never gone out of her way to be nasty to her either. By department standards, they were practically BFFs. Why was Madeleine being so difficult now? Madeleine was already co-chairing another panel on pseudo-quantitation and, over the course of the past few years, had chaired and moderated her share of workshops and seminars. It wasn’t even as if she were an expert on tipping behavior. Faith was.

  Faith had been surprised Leonardo had taken the trouble to read her paper, but she was proud of it. Maybe she was lacking in just about everything a normal human being and a normal woman should have but by God she was a fine mathematician and had written a fine paper.

  At some level, she’d been aware of the fact that part of Kane’s hostility had stemmed from jealousy. Tim, Grif and Madeleine—they were all competent enough. Tim was a decent theoretician and Grif was an excellent teacher. Madeleine—no one really understood what Madeleine was doing in the department, but Kane wanted her there and so she’d been there.

  But none of them were as good as Kane had been. And none were as good as she was.

  The thought shocked her and thrilled her.

  Faith looked around. A sunlit room in Tuscany in a restored monastery was as good a place as any for an epiphany. Something deep within her shifted, something old and rotten like a piece of ancient furniture moving away to make room for something new.

  All her life she’d been put down. By her parents, for being alive. For having that chance at a happy life that had so spectacularly eluded them. At college, for being poor and overly bright. By Roland Kane, for being as good a mathematician as he was.

  Even Nick had dealt her a huge blow. He couldn’t even remember her name after a night of lovemaking.

  But for the first time in her life, she had a glimpse of a life that was more than merely grimly hanging on by her fingertips. She might not be good at much but she was good at mathematics.

  And another talented mathematician, Leonardo Gori, had recognized it. If he had read her paper and been impressed, then maybe others had as well.

  “Ancora caffè?”

  Faith was jerked out of her thoughts by a handsome waiter hovering over her with a steaming silver coffee pot.

  “Si, grazie.”

  He bent over to pour, then stood and winked. “Brava.”

  Faith winked back and was rewarded with a brilliant smile, a thousand watts of teeth.

  “…not fair,” a voice was whining.

  With a sigh, Faith turned from the pleasant, mild flirtation to gaze at Madeleine across the table, still complaining to Grif. Madeleine shook her head, the long, gray strands around her ears making her look like a greyhound. “I’m going to speak to Leonardo about this.”

  “I wouldn’t if I were you.” Grif’s voice was sharp, eyes sharper. “Kane’s dead, and until the administration appoints his successor, I am pro tem department head. I absolutely forbid you to make a fuss about this, Madeleine.”

  Madeleine blinked. Grif rarely raised his voice and was rarely anything but lazily courteous. But now Faith could almost see the glint of steel beneath his indolent southern charm.

  “Well.” Madeleine stood up abruptly, jarring the table, and Faith steadied her cup before it could slosh over. “That was clear. And it’s also very clear whose side you’re on.” Shooting a look at Faith that was surprising in its venom, she turned and left.

  “Wow.” Tim’s eyes blinked behind his thick glasses. Tim rarely noticed anything going on around him, but Madeleine’s temper tantrum had broken through his usual distraction. He turned to Grif. “What was that all about?”

  Grif sighed. “Jealousy.”

  “Of Faith?”

  Faith could have slapped Tim for the tone of utter disbelief.

  “Yes. Of Faith.” Composed, Grif patted his lips with the snowy, blanket-sized napkin and smiled warmly at her. Eerily, his words echoed her thoughts. “Looks like this is your time now, Faith, my dear. I’m happy for you.”

  Tim’s head swiveled. Grif. Faith. Then Grif again. His brow furrowed. “Huh?”

  A tall, good-looking man in a uniform materialized beside her, accompanied by Leonardo Gori.

  The man mouthed wonderful sounds in liquid tones at her. She frowned at Leonardo. It seemed so unfair to have a handsome man asking something and she didn’t know what.

  Leonardo bent forward. “I’m sorry, Faith,” he said unhappily. “But the Commissario wants to talk to you again. He’s willing to wait until the day’s work is over. Agente Nicoletti here will wait for you and then accompany you downtown to the Questura.”

  The good news was she had a handsome young man waiting for her.

  The bad news was maybe he wanted to arrest her.

  At the end of a great day, Faith was standing in a room at police headquarters in the center of Siena. There was an amazing view over the rooftops of Siena. A very handsome young English-speaking police officer was taking down her vital statistics.

  Today had been incredible. She had participated in a number of symposia and had been asked to join a peer review group, to submit a paper to an Indian scientific magazine, and to speak at three conferences. Tomorrow she was chairing an important panel and they’d asked her to co-chair two others.

  Except for the fact that she might be arrested for murder, life was good.

  That was when a dirty and crazed-looking Nick limped in.

  Oh, God. It was Faith’s worst nightmare—Nick, seeing her in a vulnerable position. Being in a foreign police station waiting to be questioned about a murder was about as vulnerable as it got.

  Dante strolled in. “Nick!” He looked taken aback. “What are you doing here? You were supposed to come to the August Palio. You’re a month early.”

  Nick’s jaw muscles bunched. He had a big jaw. It was like watching cats fight under a blanket. “I got your message and I needed to see if Faith was all right.” Nick pushed both hands through his disheveled hair. He looked over at Faith. “I flew straight over. I came to rescue you, honey. Stop glaring at me.”

  He came to rescue her? Faith didn’t need rescuing, certainly not by Nick. She folded her arms under her breasts and looked out the window. “Go away, Nick. Nobody asked you to be here.”

  “No, nobody asked me to be here.” Nick put his hand on her arm and she jerked. “I wanted to be here because you were in trouble. I want to help you. Let me help you.”

  “I don’t need any help, thank you very much.” Faith’s lips tightened as she pulled away. “I can get myself arrested for murder all on my own, without any help from anyone.” Her eyes lifted to Dante. “Isn’t that right, Commissario?”

  The policeman’s eyes were following them with interest, like a tennis match.

  “Damn it, Faith.” Nick rammed his hands through his hair. “Stop that. Being arrested for murder is no joke, and—”

  “Ah, excuse me,” Dante murmured, clearing his throat.

  Nick rounded on his cousin. “What?”

  “What?” Faith asked in alarm.

  “Hey, easy.” Dante held up his hands. “One thing should be made clear here. Faith is not under arrest or even a major suspect. She�
��s just in for questioning, since she found the body.” Dante’s voice was even as he looked back and forth between her and Nick. “I, ah, knew you were a friend of Lou’s, Faith. I didn’t realize you’re a…friend of Nick’s, too.”

  Faith looked out the window, arms still crossed over her chest. “I’m not,” she said, just as Nick said, “Of course she is.”

  “Listen you—” she said, just as he said, “Don’t be stupid—”

  “Children, children.” Dante held up his hands. “Behave yourselves.”

  Faith gritted her teeth. She wasn’t acting like a child. She drew in a deep breath and let it out in a long stream. A stress reliever. She’d spent a semester in college following YouTube yoga lessons because she couldn’t afford the real thing. There’d been a lot of breathing exercises.

  She ignored Nick and glared at Dante. “I was told to present myself, and here I am.”

  Dante nodded. “Yes. I’m afraid we’re going to have to go over the terrain once again. I realize how annoying this must be for you, but it’s a pure formality.”

  Nick took her elbow and Faith shot him a venomous glance. She looked down pointedly at his hand on her arm, as he tried to steer her chivalrously to the chair.

  Ha! Chivalry. The rat didn’t have a chivalrous bone in his body. Then she looked again at his hand, large, long-fingered, and scarred. Pure male. Hot to the touch. She had a sudden vision of his strong, deeply-tanned hands moving over her pale skin, touching her breasts, breaching her body, and she went hot then cold at the memory.

  She looked up and saw Nick was thinking the same thing. His deep blue eyes were focused intensely on her and she could feel a blush rising.

  Hard on the heels of that was the memory of her humiliation. She had thrown herself at him, thinking she was special, when he’d been so drunk a female goat would have done.

  Nick hadn’t even been aware he had been making love to her, Faith Murphy, as opposed to any other female fan. He had them falling into his bed in droves and the fact that she’d been just as easy as any of the other over-endowed bimbettes who followed the Hunters players around burned her pride.

  She pulled away again from Nick’s hand with a hiss and sat down, turning her head away from him. She folded her hands in her lap and tried to compose herself. She drew a deep breath. “I’m ready when you are, Dante.”

  “Yes.” Dante was trying not to smile. He was a rat, too.

  Nick pulled up a chair next to her and she picked up her own chair and turned it so her back was to Nick.

  His cousin watched this with avid curiosity, like watching TV. Apparently he suddenly realized he should be policing as opposed to viewing, because he shook himself. “As I was saying, I realize this is ground we’ve already covered—”

  “That’s okay.” Faith tried very hard not to think of Nick sitting next to her. Not to notice that he seemed to take up an inordinate amount of space in the interrogation room and that she could feel his body heat against her back. “I read murder mysteries. You’re going to interrogate us all, over and over again, until you catch one of us up in a lie and that person confesses and you’ve solved your case. Fire away.”

  “Don’t I wish it were always that easy,” Dante murmured. “So—let’s run through this once more. You arrived at the Certosa around 9 pm last night? With your group?” Dante couched everything as a question as he frowned down at the notes he had on the table in front of him as if he could barely decipher the rudimentary markings. “Would you like to go over that with me again?”

  Neatly done, Faith thought. He could probably account for every second of the day for all of them. “All right,” she said on a sigh, rubbing her neck. It had been a long day. Very satisfying—until now—but long. She’d slept a little last night but not enough to make up for the two sleepless nights before, one of them the night in bed with…her irresponsible thighs clenched at the memory. Faith didn’t look behind her. She could feel Nick’s presence without having to see him.

  All in all, it was no wonder she was stressed out.

  “Okay.” She looked down in her lap and watched her fingers intertwine then separate.

  Dante nodded and picked up a printed program. “All right. Here it says that the conference, the Seventh International Quantitative Methods Seminar,” he read slowly from the program, “wasn’t scheduled to start until today. So why did your group come early?”

  Well, that was easy. “Because, traditionally, the University of Siena and UM Southbury run the seminar. It takes a lot of planning. The University of Siena takes care of most of the physical details like hospitality and catering, and both the universities are responsible for the running of the program. That’s why we come over a day early. Or so I was told.”

  “Mmm-hm.” Dante pursed his lips as he looked at the program as if he’d just noticed something. He frowned as he flipped through his notes. “I don’t see your name on the program, Faith. And your name wasn’t on the list of guests up at the Certosa.”

  Faith’s heart started to pound. She could almost feel Nick’s intense gaze behind her. She cleared her throat. “That’s true. Ordinarily, I’m not part of the QM seminar.” Though I should’ve been, she thought resentfully. “The seminar has been run for seven years now by Professor Kane with the help of Madeleine Kobbel, Griffin Ball and Tim Gresham. But Tim Gresham came down with a bad case of flu and I—” Faith shrugged casually. “—I was at loose ends. So they asked me if I could come to replace Tim. And I said sure.”

  “They?” Dante frowned.

  “He.” Faith sighed. “Professor Kane. And he wasn’t gracious about it either. He let me know in no uncertain terms that I was a peon, not fit to tie the shoelaces of the others.”

  She thought, briefly, about saying that she had been invited in her own right but Kane had blocked the invitation. But in scientific circles that would definitely have been a whackable offense, and would just make Dante look more closely at her as the murderer. And that might interfere with the next three days which were shaping up to be her big opportunity to make a splash.

  “I see.” Dante pursed his lips. “So—you were allowed to tag along.”

  “That’s about the size of it.” Faith grimaced. “But in academia, you grab your chances where you find them.”

  “Indeed. So, the four of you—Professor Kane, Madeleine Kobbel, Griffin Ball and yourself—leave for Siena via—” He looked up at her.

  “Boston, Rome, Florence.”

  “Boston, Rome, Florence. From Logan Airport. All right. Did anything unusual happen on the flight?”

  “Well…” Faith frowned. “Depends on what you mean by unusual. Professor Kane got drunk and made a heavy pass at a pretty flight attendant. That’s fairly unusual by my book, but apparently not for him. Madeleine—Professor Kobbel—said that he often made scenes like that.”

  Dante was writing in his notebook. “So he insulted a flight attendant. Did you happen to get her name?”

  “Yes. I talked to her later. I thought I would calm her down. But she was calm enough. She said there was one every flight.”

  “One what?”

  “Jerk. Her name was Karen Lewis and she couldn’t have killed Professor Kane. She said she was due to fly back out of Rome two hours after we landed. You could check that.”

  “I could.” Dante’s mouth lifted in a half smile and he made a brief notation. “Did anything else happen on the flight?”

  “No, that was about it on the flight itself, except that Professor Kane drank six of those small bottles of wine and four mini bottles of brandy. He had some trouble with customs at Fiumicino Airport. He’d brought four bottles of whiskey, and apparently that was over the allowance. Professor Kane threw a real fuss about paying extra duty. Showed his letter of invitation from the University of Siena. Told the customs official he knew the President of the Italian Republic. Told him he was a close friend of Obama’s. He really pulled out all the stops.” Faith winced. “And all for a savings of a grand total o
f twenty-seven dollars and fifty cents in excise tax.”

  “Hmm. Roland Kane seems to have had a knack for making enemies,” Dante said. “Any other problems en route?”

  “No. Alcohol and jet lag seemed to catch up with Professor Kane after that. He slept on the flight to Florence and dozed in the minivan. It was dark when we reached the Certosa. We were all assigned cells and we were given fifteen minutes to unpack because supper was being served in the refectory. All the meals at the Certosa have been delicious.” Faith shook her head in amazement. “If monks eat like that, I hardly dare think what ordinary civilians get to eat.”

  “Doubtless you’ll find out soon enough.” Dante looked behind her. “When Faith has finished here, you might want to take her to Tullio’s for a bite,” he said to Nick. “She’s had a hard day.”

  “Right.”

  Faith whirled around at the sound of Nick’s deep voice and Nick raised his hands in self-defense at the heat he saw in her eyes.

  Faith turned back, gripping the arms of her hardback chair. “I’m quite capable of feeding myself, Commissario. There’s no need whatsoever—”

  He sighed. “Dante.”

  “What?”

  “Dante.”

  She stared. “I can’t call you Dante. And as I said before, I certainly don’t need anyone to feed me. I’ve been feeding myself for--”

  “Nonsense.” Without raising his voice, Dante managed to stop her in mid-tirade. “I’m taking off my policeman’s hat here for just a moment. You’re a friend of my cousin, Lou, and I see you’re a friend of Nick’s as well.” He politely ignored her unladylike snort. “You’re a foreigner in my country and you’ve been subjected to the utmost stress. It would be unthinkable of me to allow you to be left to your own devices.”

  He smiled suddenly and Faith was bowled over by the charm of that smile. It disappeared as quickly as it had come. “Now,” he said, his voice all business again, “let’s go back to the night before last. You had dinner at the Certosa. Who was there?”