Chapter 7
“I am a wood magician, like my father,” Signore Scala explained.
“Wood magic has been in our family for generations, but it was my father who turned a small artisan workshop making staircases into a thriving business. Instead of making the stairs all by hand, the machines made the basic structure. He then finished them to the customer’s liking with carved details that had been perfected over the centuries by our family.
For this, he used a spell, but no one knew.
Not then. Magic was forbidden. It is this spell that was stolen from me. I need it back.”
“Have you not memorized it?” Oscar asked.
“I have not. I do not use the spell. I find it does not increase the value of the stairs enough to make it worth my while spending time at the factory. I prefer it here on the lake, not in a hot factory closer to Milano.” He shrugged again, the motion not as languid as before.
“The man who stole it from me wants the spell for himself.”
“You know who took it?” Oscar asked.
“I do. It was the boat builder from Pecco.”
“Are there witnesses who saw him take it?”
“No, but he wants to grow his business with the help of a wood magician. He planned to give the spell to the magician he hired to make his boats sturdy, unbreakable. Everybody knows this because he boasted to all who would listen. I want you to steal the spell back from him. Then I will give you the name of the antique dealer I sold the books to. A fair exchange, yes?”
I was about to disagree when Oscar gave an enthusiastic, “Yes. We’ll do it.”
I put up my hand to slow him down. “Why not just ask the boat builder to return the spell?”
Signore Scala looked at me as though I were a na?ve fool. “He will not give it back. He has sympathies for the anarchists, and I am a factory owner. He would like to see me fail.”
“Will your business fail if you don’t get the spell back? You say you’re not using it anyway.”
“That spell is my family heirloom. Besides, I may need it again one day.”
“Then notify the Carabinieri of the theft.”
Any earlier warmth in his gaze suddenly disappeared, replaced with a glare.
For a moment, I felt like one of the workers in his factory being told to increase production without being given directions on how to do so.
“Do you want the books, Professor?” His price was our compliance.
It was up to us to accept or try to negotiate.
Oscar accepted. “Of course we do. We’ll get your spell.”
Signore Scala smiled. “Bene. Good.” He got to his feet and clapped his hands together. “You will have no trouble finding Giovanni Colombo’s boatyard in Pecco. It is the only one. The spell was in an envelope with Famiglia Scala written on it. Bring me the envelope and its contents.”
I tried and failed to catch Oscar’s attention. The speed with which he accepted the task was unsettling. We knew nothing about Giovanni Colombo. What if he was dangerous? “Why us, Signore Scala? Why not hire some local lads?”
“Because I do not want this to come back to me, Professor. I want you to steal back the spell then leave Monteoro. And you, Mr. Barratt, you look capable.” He suddenly grasped Oscar’s shoulders. “You are strong. Is that not so, Professor?”
“I, er, yes I suppose he is strong. He’s certainly capable in a sticky situation.”
Signore Scala laughed. “A sticky situation. I like that. It makes me think of jelly and I like jelly very much. A sticky situation,” he said again.
Oscar blinked at him, looking somewhat bemused by the attention. He looked even more bemused when Signore Scala didn’t release him.
The Italian smiled. “We will seal the arrangement in the tradition of Lombardy.”
Before Oscar had a chance to put out a hand for the other man to shake, Signore Scala pecked him on one cheek then the other. Eyes wide, Oscar laughed lightly.
Signore Scala released him and grabbed my shoulders next.
He leaned down to my height and repeated the kisses.
My cheeks flushed with heat. As he stepped back, I didn’t know where to look.
I ought to meet his gaze and laugh, like Oscar did, but I couldn’t bear to see how my embarrassment amused him.
It didn’t matter where I looked, however. Amusement was evident in his voice. “You English, so afraid of touching.”
“Not afraid,” Oscar said. “Just not used to it in certain situations.”
As I walked ahead of them into the entrance hall, movement out of the corner of my eye had me turning sharply toward the staircase.
Even though I’d been quick, whoever had been standing at the top was quicker.
I caught sight of a man’s bare foot and a flash of yellow-gold fabric before he disappeared into a room off the landing.
Signore Scala saw me watching. “A friend is staying with me. He is shy.” He plucked our hats off the stand then ushered us to the door with a hasty, “Arrivederci.”
On the path back to the gate, I had the sudden desire to divert course and wander through the gardens. They were so pretty, and there was something soothing about being in nature. My jangling nerves were in need of soothing. But I did not divert course.
“You’re upset,” Oscar said, falling into step beside me. “Is it the kissing?”
“No.”
“It’s just their way,” he went on, as if my answer had been different. “Haven’t you noticed how the Italians greet one another with kisses?”
“They greet their friends and family with kisses. Not strangers.”
“I suppose we’re now Scala’s acquaintances, so he thought it was appropriate.”
We passed two gentlemen on their way to the villa. We touched the brim of our hats in greeting but didn’t exchange words.
“They must be the art dealers Signore Scala is expecting,” Oscar said.
I kept walking, lengthening my strides.
Oscar easily matched them. “I know you prefer English formality, Gavin, but we’re in Italy now. Why not try to experience it like a local?”
“Because I am not a local.” I waited until we’d passed through the gate and were out of earshot of the guard. “Nor am I a thief. You should not have volunteered us to steal back that spell.”
“You’re right. I shouldn’t have spoken for you. Stay in the hotel if you prefer. I’ll go alone tonight.”
“I’m coming with you, Oscar. You need someone to keep watch while you look through the boatshed. But next time, think before you answer. I’m not Willie. I won’t go along with your mad schemes without thought for the consequences.”
“Thank God you’re not Willie. If she were here, she’d have offended the abbot, Signore Scala, and probably half of the hotel guests.”
“More than half,” I said. “Actually, I don’t think she would have made it out of Milan. She would have been arrested for being drunk in a public place, and then for offending the Carabinieri.”
Oscar grinned. “Italy doesn’t know how lucky it is that we refused to let her come along.”
I laughed, not because my mood had lifted, but because I didn’t want Oscar to know how worried I was.
Ever since he’d promised Signore Scala that we’d steal back the spell, the familiar, gut-churning anxiety settled in.
Not only would we be breaking the law, we were also foreigners in a country that was on edge with the unrest caused by the anarchists.
I didn’t want to think about what would happen if we were caught.
“Something amusing, Gentlemen?” I heard the silky voice of Miss Wheeler before I saw her. “Care to share the joke with me?” She emerged from behind a thick tree trunk and regarded us both levelly, although her gaze softened a little as it met Oscar’s.
He touched the brim of his hat in greeting. “I wondered if you’d reveal yourself or whether we’d have to confront you.”
“So you did follow us from the hotel,” I said. “Why?”
“Don’t look at me with such disappointment, Professor,” she said.
“I was simply doing as my employer bade. He went on to the abbey to see what he could learn there, while he ordered me to follow you both.” She indicated the villa gate behind us.
“Signore Scala lives at Villa Corzoni. Does he have the book now? Did he refuse to sell it to you? Is that why you’ve come away empty handed? ”
“We’re not telling you anything.” I sounded like a petulant child, but I didn’t like being duped. I suppose I ought to be cross with Defoe, not Miss Wheeler, since she was merely following his orders, but I couldn’t hold back my emotions. It had been a trying morning.
Oscar wasn’t in the least cross. Indeed, he seemed pleased to see Miss Wheeler. “I’m glad you chose to reveal yourself. I didn’t want to have to confront you.” He indicated she should walk with us back to the village.
Miss Wheeler stepped between us, her ambling pace matching ours. “Don’t pretend you saw me, Mr. Barratt. I was well back the entire time.”
“And yet I knew you were there. I must be attuned to you the way a bee senses a flower.”
She made a face. “Good lord, that was tortured. I hope you don’t have plans to abandon your factual writing and attempt poetry instead.” She hooked her arm through mine. “Now, do save us all a lot of time and tell me if Signore Scala had the book with the tattoo spell.”
“We’re not telling you anything, Miss Wheeler,” I said.
“We all know I’ll find out eventually.”
“We know no such thing.” I extricated myself from her grasp. “For your own safety, do not try to follow us again.”
“My own safety?” She frowned. “Professor, are you expecting to encounter danger?”
I quickened my pace, only to stop when I realized they weren’t following. I glanced back to see them facing each other.
“What have you got yourself into, Mr. Barratt?” Miss Wheeler asked. “Perhaps I can help.”
“You can’t,” Oscar said.
“You know I can be of assistance. Please don’t walk into a dangerous situation alone.”
“I won’t be alone. Gavin will be with me.” Oscar placed his hand over hers as it rested on his sleeve. His thumb caressed her knuckles before he unceremoniously plucked off her hand.
“You can trust me,” she went on. “If you’re putting yourself in danger to get the book, then I’ll not try to take it from you if you’ll just allow me to help. You know I’m a woman of my word. I gave the Mackenzie book back to you in Edinburgh, didn’t I?”
“After you’d read the relevant passage,” I reminded her.
I might as well not have spoken. Her attention was focused entirely on Oscar, and his on her.
He gave her a sad smile. “As nice as it feels to know you’re worrying about me, it’s not necessary. We’ll be all right, Adele.”
Her jaw firmed. “It’s Miss Wheeler to you.” She opened her parasol too close to his face, forcing him to sway back or be smacked. She settled it above her head and strode off.
Oscar and I watched her leave. “A third person could have been helpful,” I told him.
He agreed with a sigh. “Particularly one as capable as her. But I will not place her in danger.” He set off, his pace slower than hers.
“Nor do I want to put you in danger, Gavin. I think you should stay at the hotel. You can keep an eye on Miss Wheeler to make sure she doesn’t try to follow me tonight. ”
“I’m coming with you and that’s final.” After a moment, I added, “Do you think she’ll try to follow us?”
His lips quirked with his wry grin. “Undoubtedly.”
“Because she wants the book?”
He didn’t answer for a long moment. When he finally did, his voice was full of admiration. “I don’t think she cares a whit about the book. I think she wants to join us for one of two reasons. Either she simply enjoys adventure and doesn’t want to be left out.”
“You make her sound like Willie,” I said.
“Only much prettier and far less annoying.”
“And the second reason you think she wants to join us?” I prompted.
“Because she can’t stay away from us.”
Despite the unease churning in my gut, I laughed.
Then I realized he wasn’t joking. I spent the rest of the walk back to the hotel wondering if he knew women at all, because I’d not seen a single sign in Miss Wheeler’s actions that spoke of her enjoying our company.
Oscar usually understood women, but in this instance, he was wide of the mark.