Deep Midnight Read online

Page 4

 

  It had all happened so fast. . .

  She had somehow gotten the startled oarsman to understand her desire to get to a police station, despite the fact that in her horror and fear, she had forgotten every single word of Italian she had known. Luckily, police and polizia were close enough for the man to understand, and she had found herself taken to a station of the local carabinieri. There, she had found a kindly officer who spoke English, and he had assured her that the situation would be investigated immediately, even though he seemed doubtful when she told him she had been at the palazzo of the Contessa della Trieste. Babbling and close to hysteria at first?deeply frantic then for Jared and Cindy?she had told him about the story-telling and playacting that had ended in real blood and real death, and that there had been a roomful of costumed people turning into monsters who had attacked the others even as they had stood and watched and laughed. Cafe latte laced strongly with brandy helped calm her. She finally spoke with enough reason and conviction to send the officers off en masse, despite the fact that it was Fat Tuesday and all kinds of charades and masquerades were going on, and she was speaking about the palazzo of a very well-known woman.

  The carabinieri had returned with Jared and Cindy?and the contessa. They had all come in worried, but the contessa had also been amused from the beginning, even though she seemed to be apologizing—she hadn’t expected such gullibility from such a lovely and sophisticated American girl. Actually, she had been damned condescending. At that point, however, Jared had acted like her older brother, showing his deep concern for her panic and fear, holding her, eyes worried as they probed hers, his tone very gentle as he explained she had been caught in a bit of elaborate theater, scary Carnevale fun, and that there had been nothing really violent or gruesome in what she had seen, and certainly, nothing murderous had taken place.

  He hadn’t known about that particular piece of scary fun the contessa had planned, and the contessa hadn’t known about Steven. It was probably even natural that Jordan had been so terrified at what had really been no more than a haunted house display. But now that she knew . . .

  Jordan had persisted then. She tried to convince the contessa that some of her guests had been madmen, and that perhaps she’d had no idea of what had been happening at her own party, but murders had taken place. The contessa shook her beautiful head with sorrow and regret. The kindly English-speaking officer cleared his throat, and told Jordan that they had searched the palazzo. All they had found were costumed guests, a few still wearing their fake blood, all contrite that they had frightened her so badly.

  “But I’m telling you, I saw people die,” she said. “Go back?they’ve cleaned it up. I don’t know much about police procedure, but perhaps if you were to use Luminal?” It was then, Jordan was certain that the contessa got angry, for she began speaking rapidly in Italian to the officers, inhaling deeply for patience, then speaking to Jordan again. “My dear, as you are Jared’s cousin, I will forgive this terrible affront, but you must simply forget all the silly movies you Americans see and accept the fact that we, too, have a sense of fun and the macabre. And,” she added quietly, “what happened to your fiancé. Jared has explained to me, of course, about your past, and so, dear child, I do understand, and my heart goes out to you. My palazzo remains open to you. You are dear to me, as the cousin of Jared, and you must come anytime and see that the festivities and the amusements are over, and that we did nothing but provide a party and a charade. Dear, dear, Jordan, poor dear. I am so sorry, but please! You must be sane and rational about this!”

  “Yes, and we must let the contessa go home,” Jared said firmly, and before she could protest longer, the police were apologizing to the contessa and ushering them out to the street. The contessa had kissed Jordan’s cheek with cold lips, urging her again to come by at any time. Despite their growing impatience, the police had remained kind to her throughout, far kinder than Jared when?after the contessa had departed in her private launch?she had kept trying to explain that she had seen real blood, nearly perished herself, and been rescued by a man in wolf’s clothing.

  “Where is this man?” Jared had demanded.

  “He leaped with me from the balcony, then . . . disappeared into the fog. ” They stared at her as if she had entirely lost her mind. Yes, poor Jordan. God knew, maybe she needed to be committed to the closest facility for the insane.

  Back at the hotel, Cindy had managed to find a concierge who made Jordan tea, and then offered to sleep in her room. Jared’s sigh of impatience had caused her to decline. But alone in her handsome, antiques-laden room in what she truly considered to be one of the most beautiful hotels in the world, she still had not been able to sleep. It had been the words of the contessa that had caused her to dig into her pile of work, and find the book written by the movie producer. She tried to read before realizing that Cindy had slipped a Valium into her tea. She had fallen asleep with the book in her hand, but the Valium hadn’t stopped her dreams. She had witnessed the events time and time again; she dreamed that she awoke, that a huge silver wolf guarded her window. He was framed in the shutters that opened to the pedestrian walk and canal where just hours before, the last sounds of laughter and revelry had faded into the darkness and shadows of the moonlit night Okay, so the party and the Valium had caused her some serious nightmares. That didn’t stop her belief that maybe . . .

  She broke off her own thought painfully, then continued with it.

  Yes, maybe some cultists or some wretched coldblooded murderers had been at work.

  Jared leaned toward her, at the rooftop restaurant of the Danieli, all attempts at patience suddenly lost.

  “Jordan, please, I am begging you?you’ve got to stop. These are people I work with. The contessa is incredibly important to my job, my position here in Italy, to my career, my life! If you keep up with this, you will destroy me. Can’t you understand? A party, masks, costumes, a haunted house, special effects, elaborate, yes! The contessa likes to have the best ball, the most talked-about. Leave it?leave it alone.

  All of Venice will be talking as it is. You will destroy me, don’t you understand?”

  “Jared, I’m telling you?”

  “And the police have told you. And the contessa left her party to come to you, because you were so frightened. Everyone has bent over backward to explain what went on to you, and you refuse to accept it!”

  “Jared, you weren’t there?”

  He got up, throwing his napkin on the table. “I have to go. Jordan, get a fucking grip before you ruin my life!”

  “Jared!” Cindy protested, speaking out again at last “Jordan is your cousin, your flesh and blood?”

  “Which she seems to have forgotten. You sit here and listen to her make up wild stories and convince herself that monsters exist. ” He stared hard at Jordan, placing his hands on the table to look into her eyes. “I’m sorry, so sorry about what happened to Steve. We’ve tried to be with you. To support you.

  And you’ve been good, Jordan. Sane. But Carnevale has apparently touched off something inside you.

  Again, I’m sorry, but I’ve had it. I’m tired?and guess what? I have a lot of bridges to mend today. I have to see a lot of people and apologize for my cousin behaving so insanely. ” He turned and left, striding angrily from the terrace. Cindy, standing awkwardly, stared down at Jordan where she was sitting. “I know he doesn’t mean to be so . . . ”

  “Cindy, you don’t need to apologize to me for Jared,” Jordan murmured.

  Wrong thing to say. Cindy instantly became defensive. She sat again and stared at Jordan.

  “Jordan, you’ve got to realize that you are risking his job, that he’s friends with these people, that the contessa is very important to his work. ” Cindy sighed. “Honestly, Jordan, I know that you were really scared, and we should be there for you, but it’s true, it was all explained to you. With concern, care, and a great deal of empathy. And you have this foolish b
ook with you, making it all the worse. ”

  “Signorina, more coffee?”

  Jordan looked up. Even their kindly waiter was staring at her sympathetically. Had he heard all about the crazy American who had gone bananas last night at the contessa’s macabre party, inviting the police to a bit of sport? Maybe she was being an idiot and she should see it all Jared’s way. Entertainment. Damned bloody entertainment, but then, the contessa had been right about one thing?the gore had been no worse than what she should be accustomed to from American movies. Although, she might have countered, Italian filmmakers, such as Mario Brava, were surely just as gruesome.

  She resolved not to try to convince Cindy anymore that there were monsters loose in Venice. Maybe she was overreacting. Perhaps she had been reading too much, too long. The sun was shining. It was a beautiful morning, especially for a winter’s day.

  She smiled for the waiter. There was no sense in trying to convince any of them?they hadn’t been there, they hadn’t seen. Who had? A group of masked strangers she would never recognize again. Enough coffee. She needed to move.

  To be alone.

  “No, basta, grazie, signore,” she murmured. She stood, ready to walk away. Cindy looked at her with sudden panic.

  “Jordan?”

  “Signora?” the waiter said, questioning Cindy. Surely, someone wanted more coffee.

  “No, grazie, basta. It conto, per favore,” Cindy said quickly. She started to rise as well. “Jordan, wait, where are you going?”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not off to the police again. I’m just going for a walk around the Square. ” The waiter had gone to get the check as Cindy had asked. Jordan had tried to sign most of the bills to her room as a thank-you for all that Cindy and Jared had done for her here. This morning, Cindy could sign. Jared had been a horse’s ass.

  “I don’t think you should go out alone?” Cindy said, frowning in protest.

  “Why? You just told me there are no monsters out there. It’s all in my mind. Entertainment. ”