CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Wandering the streets of Venice was like wandering through a Renaissance painting. The frescos, colorful tiled walkways and walls, and ancient homes were awe-inspiring and breathtaking. And yet, it was all being swallowed by the water surrounding it.
“Venice is not just one island,” said Enzo. “She is built on a group of 127 islands that are separated by open water and by canals. Parts of the city are linked by our famous bridges. More than four hundred and seventy-two.”
“How many permanent residents live here?” asked Gaspar.
“A little over two hundred thousand on all the Venetian islands, but that is dwindling every year. Together with the cities of Padua and Treviso , Venice is included in the Padua-Treviso-Venice Metropolitan Area .
“It gets its name from the ancient Veneti people who lived here around the tenth century BC. It has always been a major financial and maritime region and once was very powerful during the Middle Ages and Renaissance periods. Art and, of course, Carnivale later became synonymous with Venice.
“Now, Venice remains a very popular tourist destination, as you know. It is usually ranked as one of the most beautiful cities, and of course,” he smirked, “one of the most romantic cities.”
“We live in an area that floods and has challenges with rising waters,” said Luc, “but this is way beyond challenging. It feels as if the city is literally just floating and will sink any time now.”
“This is true,” said Enzo with a sad expression. “The city faces many challenges, including too many tourists that it cannot support, pollution, tides, cruise ships that sail too close to the city and buildings, and much more. The city is under constant threat.”
“It’s terrible,” said Alexandra. “I wonder if there is anything that Finley could do to help the city?”
“Maybe,” said Wilson. “We could always have her connect to someone here and talk about what she’s doing in the bayous. Carefully.”
“Come. I have arranged enough boats for everyone to have their own,” smiled Enzo. He waited until they were all on board, waving as they maneuvered through the narrow canals beneath the bridges. Seeing Wilson and some of the others sitting up straight, he called out to them. “Duck your heads!”
The men waved, laughing at him. As Enzo turned, the four boys stood staring at him. He tried to remain calm so as not to scare them away.
“Hello,” he said in Italian. The boys’ eyes grew wide, staring up at him. He started to walk, and the boys walked with him. “I can see you, and if you speak, I can hear you. So can the pretty ladies in the boats.”
The boys still said nothing but followed him as he walked toward a small coffee shop where he would wait for everyone to return. He got his coffee and a pastry, took his seat in the warmth of mid-day sun, and allowed the boys to simply watch him.
“This would be much easier if you would speak to me,” he said, looking at one of the boys.
That’s when one of the boys raised his hands and began to sign. He was using sign language.
They were deaf.
That wasn’t mentioned in the police reports. No one ever said that all four boys were deaf. The school they’d once attended was no longer in existence, so he had no way of knowing that it was a school for the deaf.
It all made sense now. That’s how the killer was able to throw all four boys from the Colosseum. He turned so the boys could look at his face.
“Do you read lips?” he asked in Italian. They all nodded, staring at him with admiration. “Good. The ladies do not speak Italian, and I do not know if they read sign language, but we will try to help you. We want to give you peace and allow you to find your families.”
The boys all stood excitedly, hugging one another and thanking Enzo. He could only smile, but inside, his heart was breaking. Someone had taken the lives of four innocent boys. Not just innocent boys but boys who couldn’t hear their attacker coming for them.
He spotted the first of the boats coming towards them, and the beautiful Mary stepped off, her handsome husband behind her. One by one, the boats returned, and they all stepped off, meeting him where he was seated.
“You know, I think I’m going to go inside that lace shop,” said Mary.
“Me, too!” said Lauren. The women followed one another, and Enzo stood.
“I will go with them if you gentlemen would like to get a drink over there. We will meet you and have a late lunch before we return.”
“Sounds great,” said Gaspar. Enzo watched the men go into the restaurant and then followed the women to the lace shop.
“Did you connect with them, Enzo?” asked Lauren.
“Yes, but the boys are deaf. I do not know sign language. That’s how the killer was able to get to them all.”
“We all know sign language,” said Lissa. “My son is deaf. But we know English sign language. I’m not sure how different it will be.”
“Let’s try,” said Enzo, turning to the boys. “Please sign your name to the ladies.”
The first boy made several hand gestures, and all the women just stared at him. He tried again, then one of the other boys tried.
“Oh, dear,” said Sophia. “I don’t think it’s the same at all. What are we going to do? We can’t just ask someone to help. They won’t be able to see the boys.”
“We’re going to need to call home again,” said Erin. “This is too important to not get the help we need. Let me text Keith and see if he can help.”
The boys kept trying to communicate with the women, but they only picked up on every fourth or fifth sign. It was slow and agonizing, and completely frustrating for everyone.
“Keith said it’s vastly different. He wouldn’t be able to understand the boys either,” said Erin. Her phone dinged, and she smiled. “I love him! Torro’s father, Father Nicholas, is fluent in Italian sign language. He’s contacting him to see if he will connect with us.”
“But how will he see the boys?” asked Enzo.
“We are going to need to repeat the signs to him. Enzo, I need you to keep the men busy for a while longer. This is going to take some time.”
Slow didn’t even begin to describe the agonizing amount of time it took just to get the boys’ names. Luca, Nico, Giuseppe, and Aurelio were best friends. They’d decided to leave school through a window to play gladiator at the Colosseum.
The four boys described two very stern-looking men walking along the top of the structure, speaking to one another. They appeared angry, and one kept saying, ‘there would be war,’ and the other said, ‘he would support him.’ They only caught glimpses of their lips, so they didn’t understand it all.
Before the men left, the one with the funny mustache knelt down and placed something behind a loose stone in the stairwell. Nico saw him but turned and ran toward his friends. He didn’t get far when someone picked him up and threw him over the edge. That was all he remembered.
“They murdered those boys,” said Faith. “But how will we ever tell their story?”
“I’m not sure,” said Grace, “but we have to try. Whatever is at that Colosseum could be important. Enzo? Do you know someone who might be able to search for whatever was hidden there?”
“Of course,” he nodded. “I will ask Uncle Aldo if he can send someone. Perhaps something was found while they were doing preservation work. It might already be out there.”
“Father Nicholas, you’ve been very helpful,” said Rose. “I know that took a while, but at least we all know a bit of sign language in Italian now.”
“It’s been my very strange and bewildered honor,” he grinned. “If what these boys say is true, it sounds like Hitler and Mussolini were planning something long before Europe was thrust into war. No telling what those men had planned for the world. I hope you find what they left behind and those precious children get home.”
Ending the call, the women all looked at one another. Erin, as their leader, smiled at the boys. They were giving them hope for the first time in almost one hundred years.
“I hope we can do that, too. God knows these children deserve to find peace.”