wild ideas, Angie. The police never act that fast.”
“How do you know?” Angie jumped onto a down escalator. Cat hesitated, and got knocked from behind. She hurried to the same step as Angie. “Do you want to take the chance that, instead of a four-star hotel, you end up in an Italian prison? I’ve heard scary things about Americans getting locked away in foreign prisons. Everybody fights about jurisdiction and what laws were and weren’t broken. Then the American embassy comes in and starts throwing their weight around, which pisses off the other country’s government, which then digs in its heels, and the poor American pays the price!”
“You know that isn’t the sort of thing we’re facing. This is Italy! The police don’t act that way.”
“Which police? Between the carabinieri , the polizia di stato , the finance police, the antimafia police, and the antiterrorist police, we could get caught up in an internal fight that would be worse than an international one!”
They were off the escalator now and walking down a long underground corridor.
“Stop, already! Let’s just get out of this horrible subway.” Cat looked for a way up, back to street level, but didn’t see anything.
Angie hurried her along. “We simply need to make sure nobody stops us. We need to find Marcello, let the police know, spend some time checking out a few things in Rome, and then go home. I miss Paavo already!”
“That, I can agree to,” Cat said.
“Good. Now, we used our ATM cards at the airport, but that was okay. If the police were alerted about us, they knew we landed there anyway. We can’t make that mistake again, however.”
Cat sucked in her breath. “What are you suggesting?”
Angie stopped at a wall map of the metro system. “You have a lot of cash on you, don’t you?”
They huddled together as Cat opened her wallet. “Seventy dollars and a couple dollars in coins. Plus, I always carry emergency money.” She slid some folded cash halfway out from under her driver’s license. “Two hundred dollars in case ATMs break down.”
“Very smart,” Angie said as she went through her own wallet. She had a $153. “Four hundred twenty-three dollars, plus the two hundred euros we got from the ATM, minus the cost of the train tickets. That’s a fortune. We’ll be just fine.” She looked at the metro map and pointed to the Ottaviano station. “I think it’s time for dinner, don’t you?”
“Dinner?” Cat looked with dismay from the map to the turnstiles that led to grimy, graffiti-filled boarding areas.
The doorbell rang. Paavo tightened the sash on his bathrobe and went to answer it. After Serefina’s call, he put on coffee, then showered and shaved to get ready to go to Homicide.
Nobody ever came to his house except Angie. Unless—a great possibility entered his mind—Angie had come to her senses and taken a plane home. He flung open the door.
Angie’s eldest sister, Bianca, stood on the porch. “Good morning,” she said cheerfully. “I brought you some fresh muffins for breakfast.” She held up a pastry bag.
Chubby, in her forties, with straight chin-length brown hair cut in the same practical bob that she’d probably worn for the past twenty years, Bianca was the most perennially good-natured person Paavo had ever met. Sometimes, he had to admit, it was really hard to take. Warm, kind, and motherly, she was completely uninterested in politics, religion, world health, or even fashion—her clothes were as plain and practical as her hairdo. The only thing she seemed to genuinely care about her was family.
At least with the Amalfis she was never bored.
“What a surprise,” Paavo said, finding his voice. “Come in. I guess you’re here to ask about your sisters.”
“I can’t begin to understand what’s going on!” She gave him the muffins, and immediately began fluffing the pillows on his sofa. Paavo’s yellow tabby, Hercules, awoke with a start from his favorite corner.
“How do you know?” Angie jumped onto a down escalator. Cat hesitated, and got knocked from behind. She hurried to the same step as Angie. “Do you want to take the chance that, instead of a four-star hotel, you end up in an Italian prison? I’ve heard scary things about Americans getting locked away in foreign prisons. Everybody fights about jurisdiction and what laws were and weren’t broken. Then the American embassy comes in and starts throwing their weight around, which pisses off the other country’s government, which then digs in its heels, and the poor American pays the price!”
“You know that isn’t the sort of thing we’re facing. This is Italy! The police don’t act that way.”
“Which police? Between the carabinieri , the polizia di stato , the finance police, the antimafia police, and the antiterrorist police, we could get caught up in an internal fight that would be worse than an international one!”
They were off the escalator now and walking down a long underground corridor.
“Stop, already! Let’s just get out of this horrible subway.” Cat looked for a way up, back to street level, but didn’t see anything.
Angie hurried her along. “We simply need to make sure nobody stops us. We need to find Marcello, let the police know, spend some time checking out a few things in Rome, and then go home. I miss Paavo already!”
“That, I can agree to,” Cat said.
“Good. Now, we used our ATM cards at the airport, but that was okay. If the police were alerted about us, they knew we landed there anyway. We can’t make that mistake again, however.”
Cat sucked in her breath. “What are you suggesting?”
Angie stopped at a wall map of the metro system. “You have a lot of cash on you, don’t you?”
They huddled together as Cat opened her wallet. “Seventy dollars and a couple dollars in coins. Plus, I always carry emergency money.” She slid some folded cash halfway out from under her driver’s license. “Two hundred dollars in case ATMs break down.”
“Very smart,” Angie said as she went through her own wallet. She had a $153. “Four hundred twenty-three dollars, plus the two hundred euros we got from the ATM, minus the cost of the train tickets. That’s a fortune. We’ll be just fine.” She looked at the metro map and pointed to the Ottaviano station. “I think it’s time for dinner, don’t you?”
“Dinner?” Cat looked with dismay from the map to the turnstiles that led to grimy, graffiti-filled boarding areas.
The doorbell rang. Paavo tightened the sash on his bathrobe and went to answer it. After Serefina’s call, he put on coffee, then showered and shaved to get ready to go to Homicide.
Nobody ever came to his house except Angie. Unless—a great possibility entered his mind—Angie had come to her senses and taken a plane home. He flung open the door.
Angie’s eldest sister, Bianca, stood on the porch. “Good morning,” she said cheerfully. “I brought you some fresh muffins for breakfast.” She held up a pastry bag.
Chubby, in her forties, with straight chin-length brown hair cut in the same practical bob that she’d probably worn for the past twenty years, Bianca was the most perennially good-natured person Paavo had ever met. Sometimes, he had to admit, it was really hard to take. Warm, kind, and motherly, she was completely uninterested in politics, religion, world health, or even fashion—her clothes were as plain and practical as her hairdo. The only thing she seemed to genuinely care about her was family.
At least with the Amalfis she was never bored.
“What a surprise,” Paavo said, finding his voice. “Come in. I guess you’re here to ask about your sisters.”
“I can’t begin to understand what’s going on!” She gave him the muffins, and immediately began fluffing the pillows on his sofa. Paavo’s yellow tabby, Hercules, awoke with a start from his favorite corner.
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