“Mr. Milland, would you come this way?” The police captain came to greet him personally and led him to his office. After they had been seated, the captain gave him a sympathetic look.
“Mr. Milland, I know this has been hard, but I assure you that we are doing everything we can to find Viola’s killer”
“It’s been weeks and no new leads,” Alex said. “Surely there must be something. Can you trace the crossbow bolt?”
“Unlikely,” the captain said. “Mr. Milland, can you think of anyone or anything, no matter how seemingly inconsequential that might make—”
“Someone fire a crossbow bolt into the abdomen of the woman I loved? No,” Alex was snippy now. “Viola had no enemies. None. And to do that to someone … why?”
The police captain hesitated. “Mr. Milland, our police psychologist has been asking the same questions”
“And?”
“The manner of killing … the way she was tied before being shot … he seems to think it was a sexual motive”
Alex leaned forward. “Aren’t they all? Viola was a beautiful woman, Captain. I assumed it was sexually motivated from the beginning. The question is—who?”
The captain tapped his pen on the desk. “Mr. Milland, how long had you and Viola been in a relationship?”
“Two years, five months, and seven days. Why?”
“Is it possible she had a lover? Or lovers?”
Alex felt the blood drain out of his face, but he sighed. “It’s possible. I spent long days and nights away on business. We sometimes argued about it” He turned hooded, haunted eyes to the captain. “Am I a suspect?”
“We can’t rule out anyone at this point”
Alex nodded. “I understand”
“Do you know of anyone close to you who might have had the opportunity—I’m not saying they did anything untoward—but had the opportunity to be alone with Viola?”
Alex rubbed his head. “Yes. I have a group of friends with whom Viola was friendly, and I know when they were in town and I wasn’t, they would sometimes have dinner or drinks with her. But none of them would do this, Captain. They are my brothers”
“It would be good to talk to them, Mr. Milland”
Alex shook his head. “No, I won’t believe any of them had anything to do with this. You’re looking in the wrong direction”
“Still, Mr. Milland … I’d like to have their names. Just to be thorough” The captain’s voice had taken on a hard edge and Alex, seeing how seriously he was taking this, couldn’t think of a way to dissuade him.
“Please don’t harass them,” he said and, sighing, began to recite their names. “Lisander Duarte, Benoit Vaux, Seth Cantor, Maceo Bartoli …”
After a weekend of sightseeing and screwing—sometimes both at the same time— Ori finally sent Maceo home on Sunday evening. “I don’t want anyone to know we’ve been together,” she said firmly, “I need to make my own first impression. I don’t want to be known as the girl who screwed her way into her job, Maceo”
Maceo had no choice but to honor her wishes, but he insisted on making sure the apartment was intruder-proof before he left. Ori didn’t mind that at all. Seeing Maceo working with his hands, fixing deadbolts to the door, installing an alarm, especially when he could have just paid someone to do it, was a huge turn on. She thanked him profusely in the shower afterward.
Now, as she sat outside on the balcony breathing in the cool night air, she missed him. His crazy, infectious energy was like a balm to every bad thing. Yes, she knew that she was unlikely to ever be able to trust him completely … but when had she trusted anyone,anyway? Even her beloved mother had let her down the one time Ori had gone to her and told her what Tyson had done to her.
“You must never, ever say anything like that ever again, child, never”
And, haunted by the fear on her mother’s face, she hadn’t.
Maceo Bartoli … he had gotten under her skin in a way Ori had never experienced before. She was under no illusions that they were dating—they were merely screwing—no commitment, no relationship, and that was fine with her. But she couldn’t stop thinking about the way his lips felt against hers, or the clean scent of his skin, and the way his gaze fixed on hers as he thrust into her. She could still feel the way his dark brown curls felt as she slid her fingers through them.God, stop thinking about him,she told herself fiercely—even dreaming of him turned her on.
She went to bed early, setting her alarm for seven a.m. She had a water taxi booked for eight; she wanted to be early on her first day. Her work clothes—a simple burgundy dress and heels—hung on the back of her door. Ori got into bed and switched off the lamp, scooching down. She felt optimistic for the first time in a long time. A new job, a new life. A new love? Her cell phone beeped with a text message.
Goodnight, sleeping beauty. I will see you in the morning. Sleep well, M.
Ori smiled to herself and replied.You too … boss. She put a smiley face on the end of the message and shut off her phone. Soon she was asleep, the cool Venice air drifting in through the window.
