Chapter Four

Roma, Italy

Rule Number Three: When You’re Investigating Stolen Art, the Tendency to Blow Things Out of Proportion Is Classic. Don’t Let This Happen to You.

~Massimo Domingo’s Pocket Guide to Stolen Art Theft Recovery—Volume 3.

Hadley arrived at the Termini train station in Rome and took a ten-minute cab ride to the Rome Marriott Grand Flora. If there were time, she would have loved to make a quick visit to the Galleria Borghese, her favorite museum in the city. It was literally steps away from where she was staying. But the lady on the phone was going to meet her at the hotel, and she only had time to grab a quick lunch before the meeting. The hotel had an amazing breakfast on the rooftop terrace with panoramic views of the city, but she’d missed that. There was a small, formal restaurant off the lobby, but Hadley was looking for something casual, so she checked in and left her luggage at the front desk.

She opted to eat at a sidewalk café under an awning next to the hotel. The menu didn’t offer a big selection, but she wasn’t particular as long as they had pasta. She chose Spaghetti Aglio e Olio with a small salad and a cannoli for dessert. They had her favorite pasta, Spaghetti alla Carbonara, but that was too heavy a dish for lunch. And, of course, she ordered her favorite drink, a fizzy lemon soda. Eating while people-watching was a leisurely pastime. And the historic Via Veneto, with its embassies, luxury hotels, upscale shops, and mouth-watering restaurants, offered a slower pace of life than the Centro Storico di Roma, the historic Centre City.

After lunch, Hadley walked into the lobby and took a seat to watch for the mystery caller. She didn’t have long to wait. A seductive, glamorous, younger Sophia Loren lookalike walked through the revolving door and strode up to her. Why did all Italian women have to be so beautiful and curvy? Was it something in the water, or the pasta? Hadley was glad Luca wasn’t with her. The woman was fashionably attired in a form-fitting gray dress and a matching crossbody bag. A small crossbody bag. Too small to carry a painting, especially a Fragonard. Where was the Fragonard? She could hardly wait to see it.

“Hadley Evans?”

Hadley rose from the comfortable lobby chair and shook the woman’s hand. It was really Hadley Evans Ferrari, but she didn’t bother to correct the woman because she had trouble remembering her own new name. She’d probably given her maiden name over the phone this morning.

“How did you know it was me?”

“I looked you up on the Internet.”

“I’m on the Internet?”

“When you found those stolen paintings at the villa in Venice. That’s why I called you.”

Hadley smiled. She’d seen plenty of publicity about Signore Domingo recovering the stolen artwork, but she hadn’t received much coverage. It must have been because of her role curating the “Lost Masterpieces” exhibit featuring those paintings at the Uffizi Gallery.

“Please, have a seat. May I ask your name?”

“Alessandra Montenegro,” the woman replied, slipping her card into Hadley’s hand. Hadley reviewed the card that read “Classic Italian Interiors.”

“So you’re an interior designer?”

“Yes, it’s a family business.”

Hadley’s eyes fell again on Alessandra’s purse.

“You’re wondering where the Fragonard is and, of course, it wouldn’t fit in my handbag. It’s a large panel painting.”

“When can I see it?” Hadley asked, trying to tamp down her excitement. She didn’t want to appear too eager.

“We’ll take a taxi to the estate now. Palazzo Allegretti is on the outskirts of the city. The new owners have hired me to redecorate the entire villa. It’s quite a large project.”

Hadley could hardly wait to see the Fragonard. But she didn’t know this woman. Would she be safe getting into a taxi with a stranger without notifying anyone—Gerda, Luca, at least the front desk, regarding her whereabouts? She knew her actions were imprudent, but she chose to go with her gut. The woman seemed on the level, and Hadley was in a hurry to see the panel painting.

Hadley rose and the women walked outside and asked one of the doormen to hail a taxi. There was already a taxi waiting, and as they got into the car, Alessandra gave the driver the address. Hadley looked up at the beautiful, sunny sky and inhaled sounds and smells of the city. Some people thought Rome was too crowded. But Hadley loved everything about Rome, especially the warmth of the people.

When they arrived at the Renaissance palace, Hadley blinked. The structure was impressive from the outside. Situated on a small hill and wrapped around a huge private garden with a sixteenth-century fountain, orange and cypress trees, the property was more like a castle than a villa.

Alessandra smiled. “You have the same reaction I had when I first came here. Wait until you see the interior. It’s magnificent. It’s decorated with frescoes and antique terra-cotta tiles. It has a library, staterooms, a ballroom, and two dining rooms, a main salon, three ensuite bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a kitchen, all opening to the central garden and onto a beautiful terrace. And that’s just the master apartment. And then of course, there are the wine cellars and the swimming pool.”

Hadley could hardly wait. She loved this part of her job, traveling to exciting cities and getting a peek at how the rich and famous lived, and of course, the art they owned.