In the resulting silence, they all just stared at her. Even the crickets seemed to quiet. Despite the chill, Diana felt flushed.

  Vidal spoke up. “Oh, gawd. Did you do it?”

  Now everyone stared at her.

  “Of course she didn’t.” Evan put his hand out, touching Diana’s forearm. She stiffened as he said, “Well, don’t worry, love. We’ll stand by you. To the very end.”

  Vidal scowled, for the briefest of moments, then erupted in a shrill laugh. “Wow, Diana, you really are in trouble, aren’t you?”

  Diana sighed. Yes, she assumed she was in trouble. And now if she wanted to escape this dysfunctional family reunion before she self-destructed, it was probably up to her to figure out how to get out of it.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The clown car ride was even more horrific than Diana had expected.

  Really, Diana decided it could’ve only been made worse if Vidal decided to entertain them with her rapping skills again. Vidal did, however, put on some music that sounded like a cow giving birth. Diana and her daughters had squished into the back seat like sardines, and the car seemed to lack any suspension, so every bump on the unpaved road toward the house shot straight up Diana’s spine.

  Luckily, the place wasn’t far out of town. A few miles later, Evan turned onto a long dirt driveway and exclaimed, “Ah! Here we are.”

  Diana craned her neck to see in the dark a large building, awash in the light of what looked like gas lamps. The place was on a riverbank, overlooking the main part of town, a magnificent, three-story sandstone masterpiece with terracotta roof and arched doorways, leading to a wide courtyard with a stone fountain. The windows were covered with sea-blue hurricane shutters, but were wide open, likely giving expansive views of the town.

  Diana let out a little wistful sigh as they approached. It was a place like she’d dreamed. Too bad she had to share it with Vidal. Well, Evan may be a fool, but he did have a certain amount of taste when it came to luxury.

  Stirring her from her dreams, Vidal let out a horrible giggle, grabbing Evan by the arm. “Oooh! It’s so pretty! I’m going to spend all day tomorrow on a lounge chair by the pool with a fruity drink, working on my tan.”

  That was one place Diana was sure not to be.

  It might have been a place like Diana dreamed, but this? This felt like a nightmare. Being so close to the people that, in part, she’d gone halfway around the world to get away from? She couldn’t miss the gentlemanly way Evan pranced over to the passenger side and helped Tilda out of the car, while she herself crawled out of the small opening from the back seat, nearly stumbling on the uneven cobblestone as she tried to gain her balance. Tilda fixed her dress and went inside without even bothering to think about her bags, leaving the rest of them to struggle with their luggage.

  Evan gave Diana a sheepish look. “It will be nice, eh? All of us together?”

  Lily looked at Diana and muttered, “In what alternate universe is he living?” When Diana smiled, she added, “Are you going to be okay with this, Mom?”

  Diana nodded. “Don’t worry, darling. I’m an adult. I can handle myself.”

  She hoped, at least. She really didn’t have much of a choice.

  But as she grabbed her bag and trundled inside, she realized Evan was right in one respect. The place was huge. If she did want to avoid the happy couple, it shouldn’t be too hard. She turned to go up the long, sweeping staircase with the wrought-iron scrollwork railing, when she caught sight of a giant table, set for five. The smell of garlic and onion wafted up to greet her. It smelled lovely, but Diana had other things on her mind.

  Evan came out of the room and clapped his hands. “I spoke with Gaia, our housekeeper. She says dinner will be ready in five minutes. She’s making Pastisada de caval . . . it’s a specialty of Verona, a traditional horse meat stew!”

  Bea groaned. “That’s evil.”

  Diana hadn’t felt sick to her stomach before, but now she was getting there. She looked longingly up the stairs, then shook her head. “I really think I’ll just call it a night.”

  “Mommy!” Bea said, pouting, like only the youngest in the family could. “Why? Don’t you want to have dinner with us?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’ll just . . .” She trailed off as she pointed upstairs.

  This time, no one stopped her, but they did all watch her as she climbed the steps. As she reached the top of the landing, Evan called, “Tillie took the master bedroom. But feel free to take any other one!”

  The hallway stretched in front of her, full of rooms. As she trudged along it, she yawned, the exertion of the day catching up with her. Hopefully, she’d be so tired that despite all the worries on her head, she’d sleep like a rock.

  She peeked in the first few rooms. Small bedrooms, some with twin beds, some with full, all covered in plain blankets. Then she noticed a massive room with a high, wood-beamed ceiling and king bed. A gaudy pink suitcase, something Barbie would tote around, had been set on the bed. She didn’t need three guesses to know who that belonged to. She went across the hall, finding the room at the end of it, and pushed the door open. Even if there was a den of spiders in there, even if it was haunted by the former owners, she was prepared to claim it as her own.

  But as she turned on the light, she smiled. It was a lovely, large room with an en suite bath. She went to the open windows and peered out at the stone courtyard, bordered by olive trees. The fountain made a calming gurgling noise as she leaned out over the railing, taking in the night air. She could do this. Be here, with them, while navigating the Marcello situation, and not lose her mind.

  She had to do this.

  “Mommy?”

  She turned around to see Bea standing in the doorway. “Yes, dear?”

  Bea came in and sat on the bed, hugging herself. “Are you okay? You seem so . . . far away. And I don’t think it’s just because of the horsemeat stew.”

  She managed a smile. “I’m fine. Really. Just tired. You should go down and enjoy dinner. Don’t worry about me.”

  The worry lines didn’t disappear from her youngest’s freckled brow. “I don’t know if you should be alone after what happened. It must’ve been terrible to see that man die.”

  “Yes, it was. But—”

  “And I know Dad probably isn’t the person you want to be with, right now. But still . . . we’re here. Don’t forget us.”

  Diana sat on the other side of the bed and touched her youngest’s hand. “I know. I’m sorry. You’re right. I probably shouldn’t be alone. But—”

  “I get it. Not with them.” Bea motioned downstairs.

  Diana nodded. “I promise we’ll do something tomorrow. I’ve missed you so much, darling.”

  Bea sniffled. “I did, too.”

  It was surprising for Bea to reveal such a thing. Lily may have been older, but she was the needier one, always looking for Mom’s opinion on things. Bea was the adventurer, the fearless one. She often barreled into things, trailblazed, did things on her own. She wasn’t ever one to admit she was lonely. “Honey. What’s wrong?”

  Her daughter’s smile was bright, but obviously fake. “Nothing. What do you mean?”

  “There’s something else. Besides me. Come now, you can tell me.”

  She smiled sadly. “I don’t know. I guess you could say that Hai was being a little distant before I left. He didn’t even seem to care that I was going on this trip. I get the feeling he wants to break up with me.”

  “Oh, come here,” Diana said, pulling her into a hug. “Maybe he’s just preoccupied. Have you spoken to him since you left?”

  “I’ve tried calling him, but he’s been too busy. I just—” She stopped and pulled away. “I’m sorry, Mom. You are probably right. I’m just overreacting. Besides, you have enough on your plate. You don’t need my problems, too.”

  “No, that’s not—”

  “Seriously. It’s okay.” She wiped her cheek. “I’m fine. What are you going to do about the police? I can’t believe they would think you have something to do with it.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “You really think he was murdered? Who could’ve—”

  “I have no idea. They’re running tests. But I suppose they think it could be murder. And I have no idea who else could’ve done it. Probably someone in the play. They don’t let just anyone back there.”

  She hugged herself. “How horrible. You can’t leave here until they clear your name? Really?”

  Diana shrugged. “It’s standard procedure, Bea. And I’ll be fine. It’s nothing for you to worry about. So just go downstairs and enjoy your time in Verona. All right? Catch up with your sister and dad, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” She pointed to the bathroom. “I’m going to take a nice bath. It’s calling to me.”

  Bea nodded. “All right, Mom. We can catch up tomorrow? Maybe do some sightseeing?”

  “Of course. It’s a date. In the afternoon? I have a couple things to take care of in the morning.”

  “Ha, Mom. You know I don’t like to wake up until noon, anyway, on my vacations.”

  Diana smiled, got up, hugged her daughter again, and closed the door behind her. Then she went to the bathroom and flipped on the light to find a giant clawfoot tub, big enough for two. She ran the warm water, found a vial of bubble bath under the sink, and poured the pink liquid in until it started to froth and fill the air a with a sweet-smelling lavender fragrance. Just what she needed.

  Though she doubted anything could wash away the worries on her mind.

  *

  The night air had been crisp and cool, but not cold. Pleasant. The sheets had been new, but soft to the touch and smelled of detergent. The pillows and mattress were plush and luxurious, like a cloud. The song of crickets melding with the bubbling of the fountain was a comforting lullaby. The other rooms of the house were so far away that not a peep could be heard in the outside hallway, not even Tilda’s horrible laugh. There had been nothing at all to disturb her; even when the sun began to filter in at dawn, it came up on the other side of the house, so its rays hadn’t bothered her.

  So everything should’ve been in order for a good night’s sleep.

  And yet Diana hadn’t slept at all. Not for one minute.

  All she’d done, all night long, until she’d nearly gone mad, was compile question after question about the murder of Marcello. If it was even a murder.

  Now, it was time to get some answers.

  She rolled out of bed as the sun was dawning on the green hills in the distance, and changed into her clothes from the day before. Gathering her things into her bag, she stepped outside and went down the darkened hallway. At the bottom of the stairs, she ran into the housekeeper, Gaia, a plump, grandmotherly lady with a wide smile. She said, too loudly for Diana’s liking, “Ah! You must be Signora Diana? I am sorry I did not meet you last night. Breakfast for you?”

  “Ah, no,” she whispered, pointing to the door. “I have to—”

  “I have made fresh bread. It is still warm. And I have my homemade jam. Cappuccino?”

  Diana paused. That sounded good. Not only that, the smell coming out of the kitchen was heavenly. After eating nothing last night, her stomach was begging to be put out of its misery. “Can you make that to-go for me?”

  She nodded and motioned her into the kitchen. “You have someplace to be? May I call you a taxi?”

  “Oh, no, that’s not necessary. I think I’d rather walk to town and enjoy the weather.”

  “Ah, yes. Beautiful day! But please, be careful. We are on a hill. The walk can be dangerous and steep.”

  Diana grabbed a slice of crusty bread and slathered it with peach preserves while Gaia poured her a commuter cup of coffee. When she was ready, Gaia accompanied her to the door and opened it for her.

  “Be careful, Signora St. James. Have a lovely day exploring our city!”

  I hope so. “Thank you . . . uh. Could you tell me the direction for the theater, so I can get my bearings?”

  The woman pointed down the street. Diana squinted. None of it looked familiar. Her fingers itched for her iPhone, but she squared her shoulders and said, “Perfect. I hope you have a great day as well.”

  Diana meandered downhill, toward the rapidly rushing green-tinged river. Yes, the pathway was steep, and it was dirt, so her feet slipped on the loose gravel several times, and she almost fell twice. Once she got to the edge of the river, she found a small stone bridge and a walking path, winding along the banks. She stopped at a picnic table on St. Peter’s Hill, overlooking the town, took a bracing sip of the hot cappuccino, and gazed past the wide Adige River, at the many orange roofs, majestic red-brick towers, and church spires of the hillside town. The winding streets were mostly empty, the sign of a sleepy, relaxed place that had yet to wake. She took a deep breath, trying to enjoy the calm of the beautiful day.

  But her mind dragged her back to those tense moments inside the dressing room, when she’d gazed upon Marcello’s dead body. His eyes, wide with fear and confusion. She shuddered.

  If it was murder, then it was poisoning. If it was poisoning, then the wine was the method. That seemed obvious.

  But why? What had he done to make someone want to murder him? And who had given him the wine?

  Titania. Or Mariana Massari, as Detective Lucci had called her. She seemed like the most likely suspect, since she’d been in the room right before Diana. But that didn’t mean she’d brought him the wine. Really, anyone backstage could have given it as a gift to him.

  Actually, anyone could have, whether they’d been backstage or not. Marcello had had all those cards and gifts from admirers scattered around his dressing room. A bottle of wine could’ve been left at the stage door for him. Isn’t that what admirers usually did when they had gifts for actors they wanted to pay respects to? Maybe it was just some crazed fan.

  Diana squinted as the bright sun came up, cresting a copse of cypresses behind her, with their delicate green-yellow leaves blowing in the breeze. The day was growing ever warmer, so she shed her light sweater and tied it around her waist. Too many possible suspects. This was not going to be easy for the police to figure out.

  That means . . . Diana, you might as well get comfortable here.

  She winced at the thought of being imprisoned in the villa with her ex and Vidal for months on end. Surely, she’d go mad by then.

  Closing her eyes, she forced herself to think. A lot of people may have had the opportunity to give him the wine, yes. But who had the motive?

  She really didn’t know Marcello well enough to know that. The only person who came to mind was the actor who played Nick Bottom. He’d been almost too eager to volunteer to take on his role. Any role. And something about him had rubbed Diana the wrong way. He’d seemed a little full of himself. Maybe he’d wanted Marcello’s role for himself. But resorting to murder to get it? That sounded a little extreme.

  As for other people with motive, well, jealousy and drama ran deep in the theater. Plus, she couldn’t put it past a crazed fan.

  So, in terms of narrowing it down, that . . . really didn’t help at all.

  What she needed was to get back to the theater. To ask around at the scene of the crime. Maybe she could find the person at the stage door and see if he remembered the wine bottle being delivered to Marcello. Yes. And stagehands and crew members usually knew all the gossip that went on behind the scenes. They’d be a wealth of information.

  She checked her phone. It was just about nine o’clock. The theater was probably already buzzing, getting ready for their afternoon performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, if the police hadn’t put the kibosh on it. Even if it was cancelled, the director Pietro had seemed pretty adamant about conducting more rehearsals. The theater would likely be full of people she could question.

  Standing up, she hurried down the path toward the Arena di Verona. If she got there early enough, maybe she could get these answers and clear some things up.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Though the drive to the villa the previous night hadn’t taken very long, it turned out that the walk back to the theater wasn’t an easy one, even though mostly downhill. The path was unpaved, and Diana got a rock in her shoe that she couldn’t find, though she kept stopping every so often to shake it out. Even though Gaia’s directions had seemed pretty straightforward, she got a little lost on all the narrow streets, since so many of the buildings looked the same, with their stone-washed exteriors and orange roofs. By the time she got to the Arena di Verona, she had a blister on her heel.

  She finished her cup of cappuccino and tossed it in the trash as she approached the front doors. Unfortunately, when she tugged on the front door, it was locked. There was a sign on the front door in Italian that she couldn’t understand, but she imagined it said something about the performance being delayed.

  Frowning, she cupped her hands around her eyes and peered through the glass. The place was dark.

  So much for them being up, bright and early, preparing and rehearsing for the next performance.

  She looked around, wondering what she should do next, and then turned back to the arena. If she didn’t find a way in there, she was at a dead end. She might as well go back to the villa and spend time with Evan and Vidal.

  And she really didn’t want to do that.

  She wandered to the side of the theater, where the massive, crumbling stone ruins arced around, nearly coming in contact with a row of small houses, bisecting it. There was only a narrow alley between them, with a set of stairs heading downward on the hillside. It didn’t look like a very heavily traveled route, but as she neared it, she wondered if it would lead to a back entrance.

  Before she could think better of it, Diana stole across to it and slipped between the buildings, descending the stairs as fast as her blistered foot would allow.

  When she got to the bottom of the steps, she noticed a set of rusting double metal doors in the façade of the building. One appeared to be wedged open an inch or two.

 

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