The Forty Column Castle (20 page)

She led the way at a brisk anticipatory trot to our garden setting for dinner. Salvatore
was waiting, glass of wine in hand, which he set on the table to greet my aunt with
a generous smile and a kiss on the cheek. He wore a white, open neck shirt and dark
blue European cut pants with tan Italian loafers.

The outdoor dining area featured an oval white wrought iron table with matching chairs
and glass top. The table sat twelve. I wondered where the rest of the party was. A
silver candelabrum with electric white candles glowed at the end of the table set
with three places. The army of glasses, plates, silverware and napkins was daunting
to someone who never had more than one course for dinner. I decided I would follow
my host’s lead to navigate my way through the courses.

My aunt blushed prettily when her betrothed whispered in her ear, and she giggled
in return.

They turned to me.

“I am so very happy you could join us for dinner,” Salvatore Bellomo said, extending
his hand to me. “I trust you are feeling better.” His handshake was firm but tolerant
of a woman’s hand.

On studying him closer, I could understand my aunt’s attraction to him. He was elegant
like an Italian aristocrat of the Renaissance, a self-contained man with an easy smile
that made one comfortable. I could see why he had become a successful businessman,
if his easy manner with people were any indication.

“Can I offer you something to drink? A glass of wine perhaps? We have some excellent
Cypriot wines this evening.”

I accepted the offer of wine. My aunt requested a Cyprus brandy sour. She was fairly
tittering, and I had to admit they looked cute together. He was only an inch or two
taller than she was, and I could imagine them on the dance floor whirling around the
room to a rumba or chachacha.

“Please sit down. Over here, shall we?” He indicated a wicker arrangement overlooking
the pool. We settled onto bright yellow flowered cushions. Maybe his decorator was
someone out of Architectural Digest.

Rodolfo arrived with our drinks and placed them on a glass top wicker table along
with a small tray of meze, a mixture of dishes, a favorite way of eating on Cyprus.
I anticipated one of those meals that would go on forever. I loved the round flat
Cypriot bread that was great for dipping hummus and eating talatoura, a light cucumber
and yogurt concoction. I sighed happily when I saw the variety and started out with
fried calamari.

It didn’t seem to bother Salvatore that I was there, that I had found my aunt. I didn’t
know if she had mentioned I came in through the balcony. He didn’t bring up Zach in
the conversation which seemed odd since we had come together. I had heard somewhere
that Mafia types never discussed business around their women. They were family men.
They discussed family things, as did we.

He directed his questions to me about my life in Boston and demonstrated a keen interest
in the mutual fund. This was the man who had gotten my aunt out of jail, held her
hostage in his house, and was reputed to be in the smuggling business. Here we sat
discussing family and fine art. But I needed some answers, and I was American and
straight forward, so I launched my barrage.

My first question was “Mr. Bellomo, how did you get my aunt released from jail?”

He set down his glass of wine, dabbed at his lips with a white linen napkin and helped
himself to a stuffed grape leaf. He munched a bite and seemed to savor the taste.

“I know you must have been surprised that I secured her release, but I have done business
and lived on this island for many years. I know many people. I have done favors for
some, they do favors for me. I called in one of those favors, I believe you say. That
is how I got her out.” He stopped, only answering the question asked, not volunteering
any more information.

That was that. Very simple. The favor system.

“Then why did you bring her here?”

He smiled and looked at my aunt. “Because I care for your aunt very deeply, and I
wanted her to be safe. I did not trust what was going on. You can see this is an ideal
place for her to be.” He waved his hand in a circle to encompass the house and our
surroundings.

“I have to admit this house is lovely and more than adequate, but I was worried about
her and was trying to find her.”

“Yes, I tried to get word to you, but it seems you disappeared.” He smiled that warm,
friendly smile, without accusation or judgment and took another sip of wine.

He sat forward in his chair. “Marie-Claude, if I may call you by your formal name.
It is so lovely this name. I can transport both you and your aunt from the island.
It is not a problem to get you out of Cyprus. But,” and he paused to emphasize the
word, “but that will not clear up the accusations against you. This is what we must
do. This is what I would discuss with you, you see, because your aunt and I wish to
marry.”

So it was true. This was right from the source. I sat back to think that one over.

My aunt sipped her brandy sour, a particular weakness of hers, and sampled mezes while
she listened to our conversation. She had an uncanny sense of when to speak and when
not to. She had never been a confrontative type which made her easy to get along with
and a pleasant companion. I realized that this quality was probably one that Salvatore
found attractive, as well as her ability to laugh at life and its absurdities and
enjoy a good joke.

What I wanted to say to Salvatore was -- sir, are your intentions honorable and. is
that huge diamond on my aunt’s finger real? But I didn’t. How gauche would that be?

He continued on when I wasn’t forthcoming with more questions. “Maybe you think it
odd this match between us, your aunt and me.” He picked up her hand and gave it a
squeeze and looked at her with a little smile. My heart began to melt. It was obvious
that he indeed did care about her. I felt like the father of the bride.

“After all,” he went on, “we are not young, and we are from different cultures. But
we spent much time together while she was here, and I found myself enchanted. Myself,
I lost my wife to cancer several years ago. I did not think ever to re-marry. My wife
was a good Sicilian woman and gave me four beautiful children. But they have their
own lives now. They have all married and have children. I still have some life left
in me. I feel the need for companionship, and Elizabeth is a wonderful companion.
I feel like I am a young man again with her. It is good for me.”

I glanced at my aunt while he said this and noticed her eyes glistened. I almost choked
up myself. I knew how she felt about him. Why not? What a life of comfort she would
have with a man that adored her. She deserved it.

“I understand,” I said. “When do you think to set a date for the wedding?” I thought
I should press him for a date to see if he was going to carry through on his proposal.

“First,” Salvatore said, “we will clear up this unfortunate matter of the antiquities,
and then we will decide.”

Then, I thought, you will break my aunt’s heart by dumping her after you get the jewels.
Over my dead body.

“What do you say, my precious Elizabeth?” Salvatore was again gazing upon his intended.

“Whatever you say, Sal.” She blushed. “I would like a little time to plan, don’t you
think, darling? I mean, we talked about a little family wedding. We’d want you there,
Claudie, of course.”

I smiled. It was wonderful for her. I prayed she wouldn’t be disappointed. ”I’d like
to be there. I’d be thrilled, and I wish you both no end of happiness.”

This was bowling me over. My aunt was getting married. She looked so happy. I decided
then and there that I would cut this guy off at the knees, if he didn’t carry through.

“Mr. Bellomo, how are we going to get this little matter of antiquities theft cleared
up?”

“Let us talk about that later. Now we will have a nice meal, some wine, and good conversation.
Do you like opera by any chance, Marie-Claude?”

I sighed. My aunt adored opera, and Verdi was her favorite. I rather liked it myself.
We’d gone to hear James Levine conduct
Rigoletto
at the Met in New York as a special treat one Christmas.

He led us to the beautifully set table. I saw that besides being an easy man to be
around, he was excellent at evasion. He pushed in both our chairs, and Rodolfo began
serving. The soft strains of Verdi’s
La Traviata
floated out over the garden. A little wine, fine food, a little candlelight, and
Verdi. What a seduction. The guy was smooth.

I wished Zach could be there with us. Mr. Bellomo didn’t seem in the least phased
that Zach was not there. He had the ability to create an atmosphere that said only
you, only me and tonight.

I enjoyed the evening, ate well, swooned over the seafood paella, had one too many
glasses of wine, and found Mr. Bellomo and my aunt could talk endlessly of their travels,
of the art world, of Cyprus and how much they loved the island. I excused myself after
chocolate baklava and coffee to allow the lovebirds time to themselves and walked
back to my room alone.

Zach was sitting up on the couch with the icepack on his head.

“How do you feel?” I asked.

He looked like hell. His face was puffy and swollen on one side. He was unshaved and
his shirt disheveled but he was alive, and I was glad for that.

He patted the seat beside him. “I’m recovering. Come sit by me.”

“I found my aunt. She’s in the room down the hall. I had dinner with her and Mr. Bellomo.
They’re going to get married.”

“He’s quite a catch.”

The way he said it gave me pause.

“You don’t approve? What do you know about him?”

Zach looked at me, searched my eyes. “He’s a powerful man. He doesn’t look like it,
but he controls a lot of the trade between Italy and Cyprus. I hope your aunt can
handle him.”

That was like an ice water bath.

I lay my palm along his puffy cheek. It was still hot and angry. “Would you like something
to drink, some water or something stronger?”

“Wild Turkey with a splash would be perfect.”

I fetched the Wild Turkey, fixed a glass and settled beside him with a bottle of water.

“What next?” I thought I’d keep the conversation moving.

Zach yawned then took a long swallow of his drink. “Delicious.”

“You’re stalling,” I said.

“I’m leaving.”

“Leaving?”

“Yes, I need to find the jewels. You found your aunt, so you should be happy. You
and your aunt will be safe here. Mr. Bellomo will pull some strings to get you both
off the antiquities charge, but he can’t help me. He and I have already talked about
that. So I’m leaving.”

“You can’t. You mean leave just like that?” I snapped my fingers.

“Yes, Claudie Princess, just like that.” He mimicked my finger snap.

“I’m going with you.”

Zach stopped in the act of taking another swallow of Wild Turkey.

“You can’t. I’m officially releasing you to your own custody. This isn’t a caper for
girls.”

I had to laugh. “It has been so far. What will change?”

“The stakes are getting higher.”

“How do you know?”

“I found out this morning. That’s why I got beat up. Mr. Bellomo is harboring me,
and I can’t let him do that. The exposure is dangerous to him. Besides, he’s quite
besotted with your aunt and wants to clear her name as quickly as possible.”

“Is he one of the good guys?”

Zach nodded. “As good as good can get in the world of trade. Like I said, there is
no black and white in business, only shades of gray.” He finished his drink and set
the glass on the coffee table. He turned to look at me with those wonderful deep brown
eyes. “I am going to miss you, Claudie Princess.”

He leaned over and kissed me chastely on the lips. His were still puffy.

“How are you going to leave?”

He held up a set of keys. “Mr. Bellomo is loaning me the use of his yacht. Now I think
I shall make use of the shower in this palatial establishment. Care to join me?”

“I’ll wash your back.”

He grabbed my hand and lead me into the bath room.

“Wait a minute,” he said. “Look at that bathing pool. Let’s have a go.”

He turned on the gold faucets full blast, and the tub began to fill. I selected bath
oil called Aphrodite’s Secrets from the array of glistening bottles in an alcove by
the tub and dumped in half the bottle. He pulled me into the shower while the tub
filled, and we washed each other with a huge bar of exquisite lavender soap. His bruises
were discolored, and I tried to be careful washing the tender flesh. While the water
poured over us, our bodies did the talking. By the time we had finished and shut off
the shower, the bath pool was filled. We slid into its comforting warmth. I could
get used to luxury.

“A Ben Franklin for your thoughts, Claudie Princess.”

We were lying in the pool, steam rising around us, my back to his chest, his arm under
my breasts.

“Be careful, Princess,” he said, as I tried to turn over and caught him in the bruised
ribs.

“I want to see your face,” I said.

“How do I look?”

“Not so puffy. But purple and yellow aren’t your colors.” I hesitated. “Zach?”

“Yes?” he said, resting his head on the rounded lip of the tub, his eyes closed.

“I was thinking. Maybe there’s someplace you and I could go no one would ever find
us. We could disappear and find an island and live in a grass shack and fish for our
food.”

Zach laughed. “Great fantasy. You would want to spend the rest of your life with me
on an island? I’m flattered Claudie Princess. What about your mutual fund?”

“I can manage that from anywhere. What about your smuggling business?”

He smirked. “I can manage that from anywhere.” He searched my eyes. “You really want
to go with me, don’t you?”

I nodded.

“I’m flattered. But it will be too dangerous for you. Look what happened to me this
morning. I couldn’t have that happen to you. You would leave me vulnerable, and I
can’t have that.”