would be good,” she agreed, still not looking directly at him. Guilt was written all over her.
Either she was up to no good or his presence made her uncomfortable. She sure as hell had that effect on him.
“I’m expecting a cab,” she told him.
He smiled cordially. “We’ll wait for it then.” His own car was less than thirty feet away, but she didn’t know what he drove and he wanted to keep it that way, at least for tonight.
It was no chore to keep up a running patter about the local sights she should see while she was in Montebello. She didn’t seem to be paying much attention anyway, preoccupied as she was.
“Ah, here we go,” he announced as the white Audi pulled up to the entrance to the building. He took her arm and led her out to the vehicle where the driver was already opening the door for them. “Hey, Luigi. How’s the wife?” he asked the man.
“She is good, sir. We have another son since last I saw you.”
“Congratulations, Mano! That makes five, right?” Ryan asked as he got in.
“Four, sir. Our second was a daughter,” the driver said, beaming.
Ryan noted Nina’s consternation. He smiled again. “Our world is small here. Tourists and visiting businesspeople are the only strangers.”
She made no comment on that, but he could see that it upset her. Another mistake on his part, giving her that information. Now she would be leery of hiring another cab for fear he’d find out where she was going. If she planned on going anywhere she didn’t want him to know about, of course.
Ryan felt a little better about his lack of objectivity now. He was back on the job as he should be. Everyone was a suspect, even the woman who had temporarily thrown him for a loop.
“You like Thai cuisine?” he asked hopefully. Ryan hadn’t been crazy about the time he’d spent bumming around in that country, but the food had been good. He had regained a few of the pounds he’d lost and begun his recovery there.
“No, nothing oriental,” she said, looking rather glum.
“Please tell me you eat something besides hot cereal or we’re out of luck.”
To her credit, she managed a grin. “I love Italian food.”
“Well, you’re in luck.” He nodded and instructed Luigi, “Take us to Pirandello’s.”
“They have a new chef there,” he informed Ryan. “You must try his tortellini.”
“Will do.” He turned again to Nina. “I hope you have a good appetite. Picky eaters annoy me.”
She pursed her lips for a second. “Well, I surely wouldn’t want to annoy you.”
Ryan laughed full out, thinking about how annoyed he’d been for most of the day because of her. Right now he was feeling pretty damned confident again, since he was on top of the whole situation.
So she was beautiful, he thought as he looked at her without even trying to conceal his interest. So she rang his chimes a little. Okay, a lot. He had faced the worst nightmare included in this job with that trip to the morgue today and had managed to handle it much better than usual. Maybe his heart had hardened enough now that nothing could affect him to the point where he couldn’t function.
Even if he discovered Nina Caruso had paid someone to cap Desmond, Ryan could do what had to be done. He’d feel disappointed, sure, but he would be able to carry through and process her as he would anyone else.
Feelings did pass, he knew now, if you shoved them aside enough times and replaced them with a purpose. Giving in to them could wreck your life in nothing flat. He’d found that out the hard way.
“What is it? What’s the matter?” she asked. Demanded.
Ryan forced a smile. “Nothing. Just hungry.” And he was. “I skipped lunch,” he said.
And he would skip feeding this hunger for her, too, he thought as he tried not to devour her with his eyes. “Sometimes I get busy and forget,” he admitted.
But he wouldn’t forget what he was supposed to do with respect to Nina Caruso, he promised himself. Or what he was not supposed to do.
Nina had hardly been able to do justice to the meal. McDonough’s arrival had thrown her plans off-kilter. Now she wouldn’t arrive at the palace in time to interview anyone about Desmond. But she could still go to the guesthouse, if the guards would let her onto the grounds. There had been no problem that morning when she had identified herself, so she didn’t anticipate any tonight.
As soon as McDonough said good-night and left, she hurried to the phone and called a different cab company. Thankfully, there were three to choose from. Hopefully, this driver wouldn’t be one of the detective’s friends.
Perhaps she had lucked out, Nina thought, as she entered the taxi a quarter hour later. This guy was obviously Middle Eastern and both his English and Italian were nearly nonexistent. He did understand where she wanted to go, however, and took her straight to the palace.
Nina paid the cabbie at the gates and then identified herself to the smartly uniformed guard who stood there holding a wicked-looking machine gun. He examined the pass she’d been given that morning when she had first arrived, compared it to her passport, gave both back to her. He required her to open her purse, which he gave a cursory examination. “Shall I phone for a cart to transport you to the palace?” he asked politely. “It is some distance.”
She smiled up at him. “No, thank you. It is such a beautiful night, I prefer to stroll. That is allowed, isn’t it?”
“If you wish. May I ask the purpose of your visit this evening, the better to give you direction?”
Nina knew he was not asking out of politeness, but that he was required to know. “My half brother was the king’s nephew. The one who was recently killed. A couple of the maids who knew him invited me by to talk.”
“Ah yes, such a tragedy that was. Please approach through the main entrance. I will ring up and have someone meet you at the door. Have a pleasant visit, signorina.”
“Thank you very much,” she said, smiling, amazed that he was actually going to let her roam around unaccompanied. She took the well-lighted path to the left of the fountain and flower beds that graced the center of the enormous courtyard, though it led to the opposite side of the palace from the guesthouse where Desmond had lived. Periodically, she glanced over her shoulder until she saw that the guard had turned to mind his station at the gate. Then she quickly cut across to the other side.
Once surrounded by the verdant gardens, Nina felt even more vulnerable, rather than safe as she’d expected. So many times she had read about people experiencing the feeling of being followed and she felt that now. It must be guilt that prompted it, she realized, since she was not supposed to be here doing what she was doing.
So large were the palace grounds, it took her a good half hour, squeezing around hedges and ducking low-hanging limbs of trees to reach the back entrance to the guesthouse. She stopped to listen often to see whether anyone was behind her, but never saw or heard any indication that there was.
She had been on the lookout for guards patrolling, but had only noticed two marching slowly around the outer wings of the palace itself. They looked as if they were there for show more than anything else since they stared straight ahead, didn’t alter the precision of their steps and never even scanned the grounds. Those offering real protection would probably be outside the walls to prevent the entry of anyone unauthorized. Nina shivered to think how easily she had gotten in. Had Desmond’s killer gained entry this way? Surely the police had interviewed the guards on duty to find that out. She’d remind Ryan to get the names and do just that.
The lights were off in the guesthouse, and no one stood guard out back. There might be someone in front, she figured, so she would have to be careful, at least until she had completed