Read Online The Florentine Cypher: Kate Benedict Paranormal Mystery #3 (The Kate Benedict Series) by Carrie Bedford - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Carrie Bedford
Tags: cozy mystery, female sleuths, Crime thriller, British Detectives, Paranormal Suspense, supernatural mystery, traditional detective mysteries, psychic suspense
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again
. I blinked a few times until the sign faded.
“I’ll go for a walk,” I said. “It’s been a while since I played tourist.”
“Good idea. I’ll call you if I hear anything from Ethan.” She gave me the key. “Take care of this until he comes. I don’t want it.”
I didn’t either, but I put it back in my bag.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Before heading out, I rang the airline to see if I could fly back to London first thing in the morning. They offered a flight into City airport that would get me into the office by ten, thanks to the one-hour time difference. I booked it, trying not to worry about the triple-digit charge to my credit card for change fees. When I’d finished the call, I began to dial Dad’s number to let him know I planned to stay for another day. Then I decided it would raise too many questions. I’d call him once I was back in England tomorrow.
Enjoying the early spring sunshine, I took a circuitous route towards the Piazza Signoria, mulling the events of Friday night, focusing on the details, trying to think of anything that would cast light on what had happened to Ethan. After twenty minutes of tortured and unproductive thinking, I glanced up to find that I’d walked nearly as far as the Duomo, Florence’s cathedral. On a whim, I joined the queue for the climb up to the dome. It’d been years since I last did it. The exercise would do me good, maybe help me shake off some of the stress I was feeling. The line was long, and from what I could hear, represented a diverse group of visitors from many countries.
Just ahead of me a dozen English tourists talked loudly to each other until their tour guide began reciting the history of the Duomo and the building of the great cupola. “And don’t be confused,” she reminded them, “by the words
duomo
and
dome
.
Duomo
is the word for cathedral, coming from the Latin
domus,
which means house, as in house of God. The construction of the cathedral started more than one hundred years before Brunelleschi designed the dome, one of the greatest architectural achievements in the world.”
The Brits gazed upwards and I wondered if they were silent because they were in awe, or because they had no clue what the guide had been talking about. I suspected the latter when one of them began, “But not as impressive as Bill’s greatest drinking achievement last night—” The other members of the group burst out laughing.
As bells across the city tolled midday, we moved into the cathedral, ready to begin the ascent. I looped the strap of my shoulder bag across my chest so it wouldn’t slip off. The first half of the climb took us up an enclosed spiral stairway, which reminded me of my tendency to claustrophobia, but narrow openings in the walls gave enticing hints of the view to come.
About halfway up, we emerged on to a long, narrow balcony that ran around the inside of the cupola. From this vantage point, the frescoed ceiling was spectacular, the colorful scenes of the Judgment Day looming huge around us. Perched on fluffy white clouds in a perfect blue sky, saints and angels gazed down with smiling faces on scenes of sinners being tossed into raging fires or impaled on pitchforks by leering devils. The contrast between heaven and hell was extreme, no subtlety there. To sin was to be cast into the inferno to suffer for all of eternity.
A guard hurried us along and we obediently advanced, beginning the second part of the climb, up more stairways and along narrow corridors, where I admired the distinctive herringbone brick pattern that added strength to the overall structure. I’d studied Brunelleschi’s astonishing dome as part of my degree. In fact, his dome was made of two concentric shells, one inside the other, and bound with iron rings to prevent the whole thing from collapsing outward. His design was both ingenious and audacious— so much could have gone wrong. But he’d succeeded in creating one of the world’s most stunning architectural
. I blinked a few times until the sign faded.
“I’ll go for a walk,” I said. “It’s been a while since I played tourist.”
“Good idea. I’ll call you if I hear anything from Ethan.” She gave me the key. “Take care of this until he comes. I don’t want it.”
I didn’t either, but I put it back in my bag.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Before heading out, I rang the airline to see if I could fly back to London first thing in the morning. They offered a flight into City airport that would get me into the office by ten, thanks to the one-hour time difference. I booked it, trying not to worry about the triple-digit charge to my credit card for change fees. When I’d finished the call, I began to dial Dad’s number to let him know I planned to stay for another day. Then I decided it would raise too many questions. I’d call him once I was back in England tomorrow.
Enjoying the early spring sunshine, I took a circuitous route towards the Piazza Signoria, mulling the events of Friday night, focusing on the details, trying to think of anything that would cast light on what had happened to Ethan. After twenty minutes of tortured and unproductive thinking, I glanced up to find that I’d walked nearly as far as the Duomo, Florence’s cathedral. On a whim, I joined the queue for the climb up to the dome. It’d been years since I last did it. The exercise would do me good, maybe help me shake off some of the stress I was feeling. The line was long, and from what I could hear, represented a diverse group of visitors from many countries.
Just ahead of me a dozen English tourists talked loudly to each other until their tour guide began reciting the history of the Duomo and the building of the great cupola. “And don’t be confused,” she reminded them, “by the words
duomo
and
dome
.
Duomo
is the word for cathedral, coming from the Latin
domus,
which means house, as in house of God. The construction of the cathedral started more than one hundred years before Brunelleschi designed the dome, one of the greatest architectural achievements in the world.”
The Brits gazed upwards and I wondered if they were silent because they were in awe, or because they had no clue what the guide had been talking about. I suspected the latter when one of them began, “But not as impressive as Bill’s greatest drinking achievement last night—” The other members of the group burst out laughing.
As bells across the city tolled midday, we moved into the cathedral, ready to begin the ascent. I looped the strap of my shoulder bag across my chest so it wouldn’t slip off. The first half of the climb took us up an enclosed spiral stairway, which reminded me of my tendency to claustrophobia, but narrow openings in the walls gave enticing hints of the view to come.
About halfway up, we emerged on to a long, narrow balcony that ran around the inside of the cupola. From this vantage point, the frescoed ceiling was spectacular, the colorful scenes of the Judgment Day looming huge around us. Perched on fluffy white clouds in a perfect blue sky, saints and angels gazed down with smiling faces on scenes of sinners being tossed into raging fires or impaled on pitchforks by leering devils. The contrast between heaven and hell was extreme, no subtlety there. To sin was to be cast into the inferno to suffer for all of eternity.
A guard hurried us along and we obediently advanced, beginning the second part of the climb, up more stairways and along narrow corridors, where I admired the distinctive herringbone brick pattern that added strength to the overall structure. I’d studied Brunelleschi’s astonishing dome as part of my degree. In fact, his dome was made of two concentric shells, one inside the other, and bound with iron rings to prevent the whole thing from collapsing outward. His design was both ingenious and audacious— so much could have gone wrong. But he’d succeeded in creating one of the world’s most stunning architectural
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