Eduard Alberti was waiting in the fog at the foot of his driveway. Alessandro pulled in and, leaving the lights on, turned off the car and got out. Leaning against the car door, he crossed his arms over his chest in a “ready to listen” posture.
“I came down here in case you arrest me,” Eduard said shakily. “I didn’t want the children to see. It’s been bad enough having that cop car parked outside the door.”
“And why would I arrest you?” Alessandro asked.
Eduard looked as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. In the headlights, his eyes had a crazed look, his hair was dirty, and his nails were gnawed down to the quick. “I didn’t tell you everything the other day.”
“I assumed that. What do you know? If you help me, maybe I can help you.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore. I just want this over. I’ve been living with this for too long. My children deserve a better father.”
“We’ll see about that. Children are forgiving.”
“I didn’t know until I saw the newspaper this morning who you were. The Billionaire of Venice. They say your wife is alive . . .”
“Go on,” Alessandro said.
“They’re wrong. I think the same thing happened to her as Vanessa,” Eduard said evenly.
In the silence that followed this statement, Alessandro weighed Eduard’s words.
“Vanessa knew about the drugs,” Eduard elaborated. “But she knew about it longer ago than I admitted, and she didn’t tell anyone, because Benito—”
“She knew Benito?”
“Yes, though his name isn’t really Benito. He’s an admirer of the Fascist dictator, Benito Mussolini.”
“Nice,” Alessandro said sarcastically. “Did she mention a Dino?”
“Yes. She overheard Benito talking on the phone to a Dino. She assumed he was a partner, but she never met him. Benito told her to keep quiet, and if she did he would make it worth her while. If she went to the police, he would bury her under the Fort of Maximilian on Sant’Erasmo, next to a glassblower who tried to call the police.”
Katarina was dead.
Again.
The cold that gripped Alessandro had nothing to do with the icy wind. “Did he say anything else about this glassblower?”
“No. But when I read in the paper about her husband who became a cop and had been searching for her ever since, I knew it was the same person.” Eduard started to cry. “We should have gone to the police, but to tell you the truth, we were in so much financial trouble. I made some bad investments. My debts are higher than these hills, and I have this place mortgaged to the hilt.” He was sobbing uncontrollably now. “It was my grandfather’s. It means everything to me . . . or it did . . . Now I just want my wife back.”
And Katarina would do anything to save her family’s glassblowing business, Alessandro thought. Even deal drugs. He knew everything now.
“Go back to your family,” Alessandro said, not unkindly. Eduard would be charged with obstruction of justice, but not today.
Alessandro drove away, only to stop at the first crossroad. He pulled the car over to the shoulder but didn’t turn off the engine. He needed to think.
In the headlights, he could just make out the rows of bare grapevines. With their branches trained along horizontal wires, they looked like a legion of ghosts emerging from the fog, bearing down on him with outstretched arms.
He turned off the headlights. He had enough ghosts to deal with right now. He didn’t need to imagine any more.
He knew the truth now.
Katarina was not alive. He tried to think about how that made him feel, but he couldn’t. It was almost like she’d become two people—the one he knew, and the one he didn’t.
But why did Dino tell him Katarina was still alive? What did he have to gain? And who was this Katarina Zucaro in New Jersey?
His cell rang. It was Columbo.
“I don’t know how to say this, Alessandro.” It had to be bad. Columbo always addressed him as Rossi.
“Go ahead,” Alessandro said. “I don’t think the day can get any worse.” Unless, he thought, something has happened to Olivia. “It’s not Olivia, is it?”
“No. She’s still with Orlando. It’s the address we had for Katarina. The American tabloids and paparazzi got there first. It isn’t Katarina.”
“I know. I just spoke to Alberti.” He filled Columbo in on the conversation.
“We’ll take Benito out to Sant’Erasmo tomorrow morning,” Columbo said. “I don’t care if we have to dig up the whole island. We’re going to find her.”
“Thank you,” said Alessandro, “but who’s this woman in New Jersey with Katarina’s name?”
“Identity theft. She’s wanted here in Italy for a murder in Palermo. Looks like Dino set her up with Katarina’s passport. Dino’s got his fingers in a lot of pies. Would you like me to text you her photo?”
“Hold the picture. I have bigger issues. Why would Dino say Katarina is alive if she isn’t?”
“I don’t know yet. Maybe just to buy time.”
“I can’t help but think it’s more than that. See what you can get out of him.”
“Yes, boss,” Columbo said without sarcasm.
“No word from Pamela yet?” After hearing that Katarina dealt drugs, it didn’t seem so hard to believe Pamela was jealous. We’re more than partners, you know that, she’d said.
“No word. Her husband hasn’t heard anything either. He said that wasn’t unusual lately, but I can tell he’s worried sick. When this is over, I’m retiring. I’m getting too old for this.”
“You’ve said that every single day since we met,” Alessandro said, forcing some levity into his voice.
“Well, this time I mean it. You may as well stay at your father’s place tonight. There’s no getting over the causeway, and every boat we have is being used to get people off the bridge. It’s a complete disaster.”
“Okay, but call me if Pamela calls.”
“And vice versa.”
Alessandro ended the call but didn’t start the car. Instead, he gazed unseeingly into the darkness and fog. Katarina was dead. Not just assumed to be, but really dead. He knew they’d find her body the next day. His heart was filled with sadness and pity. He’d never really known her, but he was as close to understanding as he ever would be.
But why would Dino tell him the woman in New Jersey was Katarina when surely he knew Alessandro would figure that out the moment he saw her? Was he just messing with him?
He felt the chill of a terrible knowledge come over him. Yes, he would know the woman in New Jersey wasn’t Katarina once he saw her, but he would have to go all the way there to find out—away from Olivia!