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Authors: Anisa Claire West
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cascaded out of the bottle. Maybe Massimo was right. Maybe I wouldn’t make such a bad detective after all. Hmmmm…
“It’s still bizarre to me,” Denise insisted, glancing up. “Oh hey, look, there’s Evelyn.”
Cloaked in a black wraparound knit sweater, Evelyn looked somber as she approached us at the bar. “Hi ladies,” she said in a voice scarcely stronger than a whisper.
“Are you okay?” Denise inquired softly.
“Not really. This is so sad. I don’t even want to be here.”
“Then why did you come?” Denise asked.
Evelyn’s frowned deeply. “To pay tribute to Tomaso. Isn’t that why we’re all here?”
“Maybe not all of us…” Denise pointed to Sophia whose yacht was docking at the shore. Laughing and flailing around like an insane ragdoll, she looked as though she had already paid several trips to the bar.
“She’s so inappropriate,” Evelyn shuddered. “I don’t even want her to pick my dress anymore. And if she did pick my dress, I might not even let her wear it. I have integrity.”
I peered at Evelyn quizzically, wondering where her sudden rush of emotion and conscience was coming from. I no longer suspected that Denise had been involved with Tomaso, but it seemed increasingly likely that Evelyn had. Her emotions were raw; this was no pitch-perfect performance like the ones Sophia had been staging.
“Why are you all dressed in black, Evelyn?” Leonard asked coldly. “Are you in mourning?”
Ignoring his question, Evelyn walked away from the bar, heading towards the water with her head bowed. That was strange. Why does Leonard care what Evelyn is wearing? No one else seemed to notice the odd exchange as Sophia clapped her hands together like a seal would slap its flippers as she spotted a bottle of Prosecco, the Italian version of champagne.
“Pour me a big glass, barkeep,” she squealed as I obediently filled a flute with the bubbly liquid.
“Mmmmm, so divine,” she crowed, gulping rather than sipping the effervescent wine.
Abandoning the bar and the guffawing disgrace known as Sophia Pucci, I went in search of Massimo. He needed to hear about the inexplicable incident that had just transpired. Evelyn’s cold shoulder towards Leonard had been so subtle that I doubted anyone else had noticed.
“Massimo!” I called urgently, interrupting his conversation with one of the yacht captains.
“Excuse me, please,” Massimo said to the captain while taking my arm. “What’s going on? Did you hear anything suspicious?” He led me down a long pier where we could talk privately.
“Yes, I heard Leonard ask Evelyn why she’s wearing black. He made some sarcastic comment about her being in mourning. It just seemed really strange for him to care what she’s wearing.”
“You’re right. That is very strange.” Massimo’s brow creased in contemplation. “How did she respond?”
“She didn’t. She just walked away. See, she’s standing over there by herself.” I pointed to the opposite end of the pier where Evelyn hugged herself tightly even though there was no chill in the balmy air.
“We need to have a conversation with her. Come on, let’s go.” Interlacing his fingers with mine, Massimo headed towards Evelyn as I tried not to think about how comfortable his touch was starting to feel.
Lost in her own thoughts, Evelyn didn’t notice when we were standing directly in front of her. “We didn’t want you to be standing here all alone,” Massimo explained as Evelyn’s head popped up in surprise.
“Oh! You guys scared me. I didn’t even hear your footsteps coming over here.” Her voice was trembling.
“Sorry, we didn’t mean to startle you,” Massimo apologized. “Obviously, you’re feeling sad. I’m sure Tomaso’s parents would appreciate a few kind words from someone who actually cares.”
“Oh no, there’s no way I could talk to them!” Evelyn protested, shaking her head
“It’s still bizarre to me,” Denise insisted, glancing up. “Oh hey, look, there’s Evelyn.”
Cloaked in a black wraparound knit sweater, Evelyn looked somber as she approached us at the bar. “Hi ladies,” she said in a voice scarcely stronger than a whisper.
“Are you okay?” Denise inquired softly.
“Not really. This is so sad. I don’t even want to be here.”
“Then why did you come?” Denise asked.
Evelyn’s frowned deeply. “To pay tribute to Tomaso. Isn’t that why we’re all here?”
“Maybe not all of us…” Denise pointed to Sophia whose yacht was docking at the shore. Laughing and flailing around like an insane ragdoll, she looked as though she had already paid several trips to the bar.
“She’s so inappropriate,” Evelyn shuddered. “I don’t even want her to pick my dress anymore. And if she did pick my dress, I might not even let her wear it. I have integrity.”
I peered at Evelyn quizzically, wondering where her sudden rush of emotion and conscience was coming from. I no longer suspected that Denise had been involved with Tomaso, but it seemed increasingly likely that Evelyn had. Her emotions were raw; this was no pitch-perfect performance like the ones Sophia had been staging.
“Why are you all dressed in black, Evelyn?” Leonard asked coldly. “Are you in mourning?”
Ignoring his question, Evelyn walked away from the bar, heading towards the water with her head bowed. That was strange. Why does Leonard care what Evelyn is wearing? No one else seemed to notice the odd exchange as Sophia clapped her hands together like a seal would slap its flippers as she spotted a bottle of Prosecco, the Italian version of champagne.
“Pour me a big glass, barkeep,” she squealed as I obediently filled a flute with the bubbly liquid.
“Mmmmm, so divine,” she crowed, gulping rather than sipping the effervescent wine.
Abandoning the bar and the guffawing disgrace known as Sophia Pucci, I went in search of Massimo. He needed to hear about the inexplicable incident that had just transpired. Evelyn’s cold shoulder towards Leonard had been so subtle that I doubted anyone else had noticed.
“Massimo!” I called urgently, interrupting his conversation with one of the yacht captains.
“Excuse me, please,” Massimo said to the captain while taking my arm. “What’s going on? Did you hear anything suspicious?” He led me down a long pier where we could talk privately.
“Yes, I heard Leonard ask Evelyn why she’s wearing black. He made some sarcastic comment about her being in mourning. It just seemed really strange for him to care what she’s wearing.”
“You’re right. That is very strange.” Massimo’s brow creased in contemplation. “How did she respond?”
“She didn’t. She just walked away. See, she’s standing over there by herself.” I pointed to the opposite end of the pier where Evelyn hugged herself tightly even though there was no chill in the balmy air.
“We need to have a conversation with her. Come on, let’s go.” Interlacing his fingers with mine, Massimo headed towards Evelyn as I tried not to think about how comfortable his touch was starting to feel.
Lost in her own thoughts, Evelyn didn’t notice when we were standing directly in front of her. “We didn’t want you to be standing here all alone,” Massimo explained as Evelyn’s head popped up in surprise.
“Oh! You guys scared me. I didn’t even hear your footsteps coming over here.” Her voice was trembling.
“Sorry, we didn’t mean to startle you,” Massimo apologized. “Obviously, you’re feeling sad. I’m sure Tomaso’s parents would appreciate a few kind words from someone who actually cares.”
“Oh no, there’s no way I could talk to them!” Evelyn protested, shaking her head
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