My heart was racing. I didn’t know if it was from the bottle of wine we’d shared or from the knowledge that this woman was going to give me the answers I sought.
I closed my eyes for only a second and then opened them, nodding vigorously. “I need to know.”
“You will find what you need in Sicily.”
I waited. But she turned on her heel and left saying, “I’ve said too much. The maid will see you out.”
“Wait,” I tried to follow her, but she disappeared into a small doorway off the deck. The door was locked from the other side. I pounded on it. “Mrs. Gutmann. Please. Please tell me more. Was that all you were going to tell me? I need your help. I need more than that.”
The maid appeared at the door. “It’s time for you to go.”
By this time, it was dark. But I didn’t want to put off visiting the remains of my parent’s house.
When I got to the end of the long driveway, my headlights shone on a hulking mass that had once been my parents’ love nest. Only half the house had burned. I guess that is how they were able to find my parents’ bodies. I’d been told they had burned to death in their beds and that the fire had taken place in the dead of night. But now, with the car’s lights shining on the house, I realized that the portion of the house that was still standing included their bedroom.
I walked around to the back of the house and let myself in through an unlocked door. All the windows had been smashed. I could see clearly thanks to a nearly full moon that seemed to dangle right above the house.
Inside, the floors were littered with jagged glass. Squatters and thieves had looted the house long ago. Nothing was left except piles of empty food containers and other trash. Not a painting was left on the wall. Not a bit of furniture. I made my way up the stairs to my parents’ bedroom, heart racing, wishing I had been able to bring my gun to Geneva.
I stood in the doorway to my parents’ room. The glass walls that overlooked Lake Geneva had been shattered. Pieces of broken furniture lay on the ground two stories below. Trash and cigarette butts littered the floor. I walked in circles around where their bed had been, squinting and looking for some clue. The once beautiful mahogany floor was stained. But one stain looked darker than the other. Was it blood? If so, it was just to the side of where my parents’ bed had been. My stomach flip flopped.
That’s when I noticed the blood spatter. It was on the wall where their headboard would have been on their bed. Right at that spot, two large stains sprinkled the wall in starbursts. I leaned in and saw something; some substance stuck to the wall. I jerked away and threw up all over the wood floor, splattering white wine and clams and scallops and broth everywhere. I leaned over, my hands on my knees, until I was retching in dry heaves. Then, when I was finished, I wiped my mouth on my sleeve, stood up straight, and, with my legs shaking uncontrollably, headed for the door.
I’d seen enough.