"It's easy," Mr. Scarface said as he rolled the dough. Then he put it through the pasta machine. "We'll be making fettuccine."
"Great," said Charlie, pretending to be enthusiastic.
"Wouldn't it be easier to buy it at the shop?" I asked.
Charlie elbowed me. "Don't be stupid, Max. We're in Italy. Pasta has to be fresh."
"Si," said Mr. Scarface.
I folded my arms. Charlie could make it then. Not that I couldn't make it. It didn't look any different to mucking around with Play-Doh.
"Good, good," he said as Charlie took over. "I need to check our patients in the basement. I'll be back soon to see how you're going."
As soon as he'd left the kitchen, we took off our aprons to make our escape. We tiptoed to the door and peered through the glass panes.
"Looks clear," said Charlie.
"I reckon we get out of here, go straight to the police station and find Santo. Then he can work out what's going on here."
Charlie thought about that for a few moments. "What about Mom and Dad?"
"Let's ditch them for now. They might be sick already."
"Yeah, he agreed, "I want to get home alive, not in a coffin."
He went out first. I tiptoed right behind him. I couldn't hear a sound. Not once had I heard the phone ring. And, except for Mr. Scarface, I hadn't heard any other person. This had to be the strangest hotel on earth. I couldn't wait to escape.
"This looks like the dining room," whispered Charlie. "Let's see if we can get through here."
Once we were in the dining room, scary music began to play. We both froze and my heart started to thump.
When I turned, I saw Mr. Scarface standing next to Mom and Dad. The three of them were laughing.
I launched myself toward Mom. "Are you okay?"
She hugged me. "Never better. Santo wanted to make sure you had a good story for when you go back to school."
"He's Santo!" I shrieked as I pointed to Mr. Scarface. "Was that all a joke?" I said, looking over at Charlie.
"I can't believe we fell for it." Charlie seemed devastated.
I stared at Santo and the scar on his cheek. He rubbed at it and the scar smeared; it was makeup. Then he ripped off his mustache. Now he looked pretty normal.
He gave us a big smile. "Max, Charlie, I must thank you. That was so much fun." Even his voice was different now.
Finally, it really hit me that Santo, Mom and Dad had played a practical joke on us. I stomped my foot. "I can't believe you did that to us!" I glared at Santo, then added, "Not that I was scared."
They laughed at us again as though we were the dumbest kids on the planet.
Santo shrugged. "Your mother said you needed a good story for school," he said. "Something unbelievable. So I did my best."
He was trying to help me out, I realized. How could I tell him I didn't want a crazy hotel manager? I wanted real bad guys, serious crime and action.
Just then a woman appeared through a doorway.
Mom said, "Boys, I'd like you to meet Santo's wife and my cousin, Caterina. She owns and runs the hotel."
Caterina looked pretty cool. Charlie reacted first; he held out his hand so she could shake it. She ignored his hand and gave him a hug. He looked embarrassed, but he hugged her. Then she hugged me so hard it felt like all the air squeezed out of me.
Santo waved his hand for all of us to sit down on some comfy sofas. "Caterina," he said, "Charlie and Max handled themselves very well in that difficult situation. I am most impressed."
She shook her head. "I can't believe he put you through that."
"It'll be funny when we get over the shock," said Charlie.
"So were you suspicious of me and my story?" Santo asked Charlie and me.
I nodded. "Yeah, you gave me a bad feeling."
He pointed his finger at me. "The question is, why did you have a bad feeling? What did you notice that didn't make sense?"
Charlie said, "Well, I didn't hear a phone ring once. That was odd."
"We diverted calls to the hotel to my cell," said Caterina.
"Smart," Charlie and me said together.
I said, "And we didn't even check in or hand in our passports."
Santo slapped his knee. "Oh, I forgot to ask for your passports."
"And I bet there's a law against putting contagious people with a rare illness in a hotel basement," I added.
Everyone laughed.
"I expect there would be." Santo rubbed his hands together. "So, Max and Charlie. You both know to look out for the detail that doesn't make sense. That is excellent. That is what policemen must do. And you can do that tomorrow when you accompany me."
"Good." I slid to the edge of my seat. "So tomorrow we'll get to see some action?"
Charlie interrupted. "Max only wants a billionaire to be kidnapped. He's not interested in lost tourists or sinking boats."
I shot Charlie a dirty look and then I noticed the worried look on Santo's face. I said to Santo, "You are a policeman. You do solve crimes, don't you?"
He shrugged. "Yes; however, it is very unlikely a billionaire will be kidnapped."
I sank back into my chair. "Why then did we see a boatload of Carabinieri on the canal? Surely they'd only be here if something suspicious was going on?"
He shrugged. "Who knows what the Carabinieri do? To this day, I am yet to work that out."
"Why aren't you a Carabiniere?" I asked. "They have smart uniforms."
"I wear I smart uniform!"
I asked, "So you don't think tomorrow there'll be any bad guys or any action at all?"
Santo stared straight into my eyes. "Keep a look out for the detail that does not make sense and you might get to see some action. Anything is possible in Venice."