Model Under Cover--Dressed to Kill Page 12

  “So it was unusual for her to have a pair of sneakers with her?”

  “I didn’t even know she owned any.”

  “Maybe she was planning on going to the gym, or running, after work?”

  Marzia laughed out loud. “You didn’t know Elisabetta. She thought exercise was a waste of time. The only thing she lifted regularly was her lipstick! But who knows, Elisabetta was full of surprises. She may have decided to start working out, but she certainly didn’t say anything about it to me.”

  So, she didn’t believe in tarot and yet those cards had probably belonged to her. She didn’t wear sneakers and yet I’d seen a pair in her basket. What did it all mean?

  “She also told me she had something important to do last night. You don’t happen to know what it was she was planning on doing, do you?” I asked.

  “I have no clue.” Marzia sighed. “I was her styling assistant – not her personal assistant. My job was the clothes, not her calendar. She probably could have used a personal assistant though, she was always so busy.”

  Marzia hung the halter-neck dress on the rack next to her and started work on a beautifully tailored Alexander McQueen coat. “It always feels odd to work with these heavy winter clothes when it’s so warm outside,” she said. “But that’s fashion for you – out of sync with the weather!”

  I thanked Marzia and after saying goodbye I turned to leave. I could hear the steamer hissing and spitting behind me as I left the room. My mind was whirling. Who did the tarot cards belong to if not Elisabetta? And who had called Daniela at Megastudio asking about them? And what about the sneakers? I’d definitely seen a pair – I’d even helped Elisabetta pick them up off the floor and put them back in her basket. Why would she take them to work with her if she only ever wore heels?

  A warm smile on heels, that’s how Kristine had described Elisabetta. And Marzia, who had worked with her all day, every day, never, ever saw Elisabetta out of heels. I considered my last question to Marzia…what had Elisabetta been planning on doing last night? And was it something so unusual that the sneakers could have been a part of it?

  I dashed out of the Amare offices and, true to his word, Sebastian was waiting for me. He handed me my helmet and I quickly pulled it on, slid behind him onto the seat of the scooter and locked my arms around his waist. We peeled away from the kerb and five minutes later we were in the Brera neighbourhood and parking on a street close to Thaddeus Greene’s office. With exactly ten minutes to spare, we half-ran, half-walked the rest of the way.

  We found the office quickly. A simple brass plaque on a narrow front door confirmed it. A large window looked in on a small room lined with bookshelves and religious paintings. A few globes of various sizes and brown with age added antique flavour to a room that was packed to the ceiling with papers, books, paintings, sculptures and boxes of who knew what. This was unmistakably the professor’s office, but it didn’t look like anyone was in.

  “Maybe he’s through the back?” Sebastian said.

  “There’s only one way to find out,” I said as I pushed the door open and walked in.

  I could hear someone rustling around in a room at the back. The door to the room was slightly ajar, so I walked up to it and gave it a sharp rap with my knuckles. “Professor Greene?” I called. “Hello?” I waited a few seconds and then called out again.

  “Coming,” said a muffled voice and two seconds later a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair walked into the room. He was carrying a heavy load of boxes piled so high that I couldn’t see his face. Sebastian and I waited as he set the boxes down on the floor and stood back up. He was dressed in old blue jeans, a shirt, untucked, with the sleeves rolled up, and trainers. His arms were tanned and muscular. He also had an apple in his mouth and the most amazing green eyes I’d ever seen. He looked about the same age as Sebastian.

  “Are you Professor Greene?” I asked, surprised.

  Honestly, I’d been expecting some kind of stereotypical professor: stained tweed jacket, steel-rimmed specs perched on the end of a long thin nose, and an absent-minded manner. I certainly hadn’t anticipated the totally hot apparition in front of me. This guy looked as if he’d just stepped out of some big Hollywood action film. A cross between an archaeologist and an adventurer.

  “Actually, Professor Greene is my father,” he said in flawless English (with an American accent) as he took the apple out of his mouth and reached for my hand. “My name’s Lucas and I’m just cleaning up around here while Dad’s away on holiday. Sorry about the dust.” I could feel him watching me in a way that made me nervous, or giddy, or both.

  “Professor Greene is away?” I asked. I should have been disappointed, worried that it would set my investigation back, but none of that was registering yet. I was too surprised. By Lucas.

  “Yup, ’fraid so. He’ll be back in a couple of weeks, but if there’s anything I can help you with…?” He left the question hanging in the air for a moment as our eyes met and we held each other’s gaze. Apart from a quick nod hello he’d hardly even registered Sebastian. As Lucas smiled, I noticed that his eyelashes were very long and nearly black, like his hair.

  I smiled back, trying not to stare.

  Get it together, Axelle, I thought to myself. He’s not that gorgeous… Actually, yes he is.

  Before I could say anything, Sebastian cleared his throat loudly and stepped forward. “We have a question concerning some tarot cards.” Lucas turned away from me and looked at Sebastian and it was as if some kind of spell had been broken. Or was I imagining things?

  “No problem,” Lucas said to Sebastian before shifting his focus back to me. “I’m really interested in tarot myself. What’s your question?”

  “We’d like to—” Sebastian and I spoke at exactly the same moment. I suddenly felt the way I had yesterday at Ugo’s when Sebastian had let Francesca think I was his assistant – and it was a feeling I didn’t like.

  I cleared my throat as I stepped in front of Sebastian and rested my rucksack on the table. I pulled the cards out. “I just inherited these from my godmother,” I said. “She died suddenly and didn’t leave any information about them. I was hoping your father could tell me a little bit—”

  Again Sebastian interrupted. “Like how old they are and maybe where they were made?” he said loudly.

  Was Sebastian trying to hijack this appointment from me? Dream on. This was my case, after all. I gave Sebastian an icy smile and simultaneously kicked him in the shin. I was wearing Converse so it couldn’t have hurt, but if his look of surprise was anything to go by it seemed he got the message.

  “These are pretty incredible,” Lucas said. He was bending over the table, peering closely at the cards; a second later, he disappeared into the back room without a word.

  “What was that kick for?” Sebastian hissed as soon as Lucas had left.

  “What do you think, Watson? This is my case and I found those cards so I’d appreciate it if you’d let me do the talking!”

  “But Lucas is totally hitting on you!”

  “No, he’s not,” I hissed back. “And even if he is, so what? Who cares? I’m here to find out about the cards. Unlike some people I know, when I’m on a case I’m on it.”

  “Well you could have fooled me with the way you’re looking at him all moony-eyed.”

  “You mean like the way you had your eyes all over Francesca yesterday?”

  “Francesca, in case I need to remind you, is an important part of this case.”

  “Yeah, well, so is Lucas.”

  “Fine.”

  “Good.”

  Lucas returned just as suddenly as he’d left, holding two pairs of white cotton gloves. “These tarot cards are so old, I think it’s better if we handle them with gloves,” he said as he passed me the second pair.

  Carefully he lifted one card after
the other. “Yes, definitely Milanese. And here,” he said as he pointed to the bottom edge of the card with the lady on horseback, “there’s a pair of initials worked into the scrolling along the border. Can you see them?”

  “PV?”

  Lucas nodded. “For Pietro Vasari. And this is typical of the way he included his initials in his work.”

  “Didn’t Pietro Vasari work on the Arcimboldo-Crivelli tarot cards?” I asked. I was trying to remember if I’d noticed the same initials on the cards I’d just seen at the Palazzo Reale. I kicked myself for not having noticed them before.

  Lucas nodded. “I’m not sure you needed to come here – it seems you already know quite a bit yourself.” I could feel the colour rise to my cheeks as his eyes caught mine. I quickly reached for my notebook, pencil and glasses, studiously avoiding Lucas’s hypnotic eyes.

  As I put my glasses on and opened my notebook I steadied myself and, then, turning once more to Lucas I said, “So can you tell us anything more about them?” He was holding the card with the grinning skeleton up to the light and peering at it through a magnifying glass.

  “To be honest, three things occur to me about your cards,” he said as he set the death card down and picked up the one with the magician.

  “Yes?”

  “First of all, these tarocchi are very, very old. I think they must date from at least the 1450s, maybe earlier. Secondly, they are quite valuable. Of course, any tarot cards of that age will be worth a lot, but what singles these out in particular is that, thirdly, I actually think there is a very strong chance that your cards are from the Arcimboldo-Crivelli deck. I’ve never seen anything like these tarot cards outside of my dad’s books or the Pinacoteca’s collection.”

  “We’ve just seen the ones from the Pinacoteca’s collection in the exhibition at the Palazzo Reale. And they do seem identical in style…”

  Lucas nodded excitedly. I heard Sebastian tut under his breath. “Interestingly,” Lucas said, “the majority of the cards still in existence from the Arcimboldo-Crivelli deck belong to two famous collections. One you saw, at the Pinacoteca, and the other is at Yale University in America. But neither of these collections has the magician’s card or the death card. Experts believed – if they were ever painted – that these cards must be in private hands. You might just have them. I’m amazed your godmother never told you anything about them. Did she have more?”

  “Um…no. Not that I know of… Why? Are you looking for more?”

  “Sort of…the thing is, funnily enough, you are the third person since yesterday evening who’s asked about old tarocchi cards… The other two people were looking to buy, though. They gave me their numbers and asked me to let them know urgently if I heard about three antique tarocchi, belonging to the same deck, going on sale. I told them that we’d definitely help them if we could, but that it was highly unusual for any antique tarocchi cards to come up for sale, let alone three from the same deck.”

  A shiver ran up my spine and the room suddenly felt cold. I tried to keep my voice steady and indifferent as I said, “What did they say specifically?”

  “Both said a ‘friend’ was missing three cards from their collection and wondered if I’d come across them. It sounded to me as if the cards had been stolen and put up for sale. Actually, they both also mentioned wanting the card of death. That’s why I asked you where you got them.” Lucas was suddenly quiet as his eyes searched mine. Did he think I’d stolen them?

  I laughed lightly. “Well, now you know. My godmother was very generous.”

  “I guess so,” he said, in a way that made me doubt he believed me. “I thought that perhaps, if you are the mysterious friend with the supposedly missing cards, then you’re playing a very good trick on them. Or…” Lucas trailed off and turned to busy himself with some papers.

  “Or?” I said as I leaned across his desk, my eyes boring into his back.

  He turned round and his eyes searched mine again slowly as he ignored my question. “Anyway,” he said finally, “what a coincidence, right? Old tarot cards, three of them, and the death card, suddenly appear after two enquiries yesterday…”

  There was that word again. Coincidence. Somehow I didn’t think it was a coincidence at all. “I don’t suppose you can tell me who these people were?”

  “My dad’s really strict about client privacy. I couldn’t tell you even if I’d seen them.”

  “Even if you’d seen them?”

  Lucas nodded. “Yeah – they both phoned up. And to be honest, I couldn’t even tell if they were male or female, old or young. They were just a couple of people calling up with about an hour or so between them. Weird, right?”

  It certainly was. Sebastian and I looked at each other, any sore feelings forgotten for the moment. I knew we were both thinking about the call Daniela had received at Megastudio yesterday. The hairs on my arms stood up; someone was definitely after these cards.

  In fact, two people were after these cards.

  “I’m sorry I can’t tell you more, but if they call back I’ll let you know. Which reminds me, maybe you should give me your number?” Lucas asked.

  I saw Sebastian roll his eyes. “Sure,” I said as I wrote it down for him.

  “And, by the way,” Lucas said as he dug around in a filing cabinet just behind him, “take care of your tarot cards. Here,” he said as he turned and passed me a fresh envelope, “this is acid-free. Those cards are valuable. You should try to slip the envelope into some sort of case for protection. The colour and metallic pigments on the tarocchi are very sensitive.”

  “Thank you.” I packed the cards into the new envelope and after loosening the drawstring on my rucksack I slipped them in between the pages of my modelling portfolio. That, I thought, should protect them nicely.

  Lucas quickly looked at the clock on the wall behind him. “I have to get going now, but I’m free at around three this afternoon, if you’d like to talk some more about the cards?”

  “Actually—” Sebastian started but I cut him off.

  “Actually, Sebastian, aren’t you busy at three?” I asked.

  “Um, yes, but—”

  Before Sebastian could finish I said, “Lucas, three o’clock would be perfect.”

  “Great. Then why don’t you meet me here and I can show you some other cards and then we’ll take it from there.”

  “That sounds great.” I slipped my rucksack over my shoulder, shook Lucas’s hand and turned to leave.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Sebastian asked as soon as we were out in the street.

  “Nothing more than you are.”

  “Oh, so this is about Francesca, is it?” Sebastian said as he turned to me. “You know, every time her name comes up you get frosty. You’re turning her into a much bigger deal than she actually is.”

  I carried on walking and looked straight ahead. “I’m not turning her into anything. You have an appointment with her at three and now I have one with Lucas. Where’s the problem?”

  Sebastian was about to answer me back when I suddenly put my arm out and yanked him into a darkened passage just next to us.

  “Hey!”

  “Shhh!” I said as I put a finger to my lips and motioned to Sebastian to flatten himself into the shadows. Light from the open courtyard behind us filtered into the passageway, but didn’t reach us. I held as still as possible and slowed my breathing as best I could. I wasn’t sure I could believe my eyes. Had I just seen who I thought I’d seen? Or was my mind playing tricks on me? What was he doing here? He couldn’t be on this narrow street purely by coincidence?

  That word again!

  Coincidence?

  Or part of a plan?

  I heard footsteps coming up to us now. They slowed down as they came alongside the alley, then carried on past.

  As the foo
tsteps echoed down the street I stepped away from the shadows and peered out of the alleyway just in time to catch a glimpse of Ugo at Professor Greene’s door. Lucas was just leaving the office. And although I couldn’t hear their conversation, I did see Lucas shake his head. Then he and Ugo headed off in opposite directions. Again, Sebastian and I flattened ourselves into the shadows of the passageway as Ugo walked past.

  I motioned to Sebastian that we should follow him. Back on the street, we stayed on the shady side, as flush to the walls as possible. We traced his steps to the crowded and busy square of the Duomo.

  I wanted to know what Ugo was up to and where he was going next. It could not be a coincidence that he’d stopped by Professor Greene’s. “Didn’t we have some sightseeing we wanted to do today?” I said.

  Sebastian nodded. “And the Duomo was on our plan for right about now.”

  “In which case, this is perfect timing, Watson. Let’s go.”

  It was just past one and the sun was high. The square in front of the Duomo was dazzlingly bright. No tree or building cast a shadow over its vast open space, filled with a mix of tourists, bustling business people, noisy, aggressive street vendors and even a group of nuns. As my eyes adjusted to the sounds and smells I searched for Ugo but couldn’t find him. Where was he? We’d seen him approach the square, but he’d vanished amongst the thronging crowds.

  “There,” said Sebastian excitedly as he pointed up ahead. Both of us ran towards Ugo, but he was walking quickly. We separated slightly, moving parallel to each other, keeping Ugo in sight. But he moved easily through the crowds and I wasn’t able to get closer. A large group of art school students suddenly came between Sebastian and me. We were just pushing through them when they all pulled out their large sketchbooks, found a space to sit down and started drawing. By the time we climbed our way around them, Ugo was long gone.

  Argh! “I can’t believe we’ve lost him,” I said as I stood there, exasperated with myself for letting him get away. Yesterday I’d had the feeling that he’d been holding something back from me… Did he know something about those cards? Something that had to do with Elisabetta? Despite the sweat I could feel trickling down the back of my neck a chill ran through me as a new thought formed in my mind… How much did Ugo really know about Elisabetta’s death – and how much did he have to do with it? I’d have to find him at his home or office and confront him as soon as I could. In the meantime, I took a deep breath.