Chapter 8 #3
“Then you know who killed you; you can tell me. We can research everything about the person, and once we know, there will be a way to find forensic evidence, to come up with proof so that—”
“No, no, no, I’m sorry! I never meant to mislead you, mi dispiace,” he murmured, shaking his head, distressed. “But it wasn’t Antonio Martinelli.”
“Did you know Antonio?” she asked, frowning.
“I hadn’t seen him in years and years. We went to school together when we were young. But even then, Antonio Martinelli was a giant of a man. He stood at about six foot five. And the man—if it was a man—who shot me was less than six feet.”
“You saw his height, but nothing else about him?” Shelly asked.
“He was wearing a low-brimmed baseball cap and a mask, a black mask, like we wore during the pandemic. I was heading into the house; I had just parked my car. He came out of nowhere, started stabbing me, slit my throat, and disappeared in a flash. I went down; I don’t know if he got into a car or if he ran into the neighborhood, or …
but as I said, I can tell you that it definitely wasn’t Antonio Martinelli. ”
Shelly nodded and said, “Signore, I am so sorry.”
“But I haven’t helped you.”
“You have, because you have verified what we believe. And now that we know that there is someone else out there, we will not stop until we find that person.”
“Bless you, child, for I fear so greatly for my family!”
“Signore Mero!”
Grant left his place at the doorway and walked over to them, bowing his head respectfully to the spirit of the man who had appeared.
“Another who sees!” Vincenzo Mero said, deep pleasure in his voice. “And you are with the polizia?”
“American agents, sir, and we’re pursuing what we fear may become a rash of murders worldwide,” Grant explained. “There is no way to tell you how grateful we are for your help.”
“I have not really helped—” Vincenzo began.
“I’ve explained that he has,” Shelly said.
Grant nodded and said apologetically, “We must go back. They’ll begin to worry about what’s going on if we don’t get back down soon.”
“Wait! One minute,” Vincenzo begged.
“Sir?” Grant asked.
“There is an alarm on this house, but I fear for my daughter and my nephew. I know they don’t believe that my killer was caught either, but …
please! Convince the local polizia that they need protection.
I beg of you. They are not stupid; they are careful.
But we’ve never dealt with guns or knives, and the killer who took me simply watched me get out of a car and killed me.
Please, make someone watch over them, I beg of you! ”
“We will do everything in our power,” Grant vowed, meeting the eyes of the spirit of the man.
Vincenzo smiled.
“I believe you will. I had heard that there were mortal beings such as yourself who could see those of us who remain on this plane, for whatever reason. I cannot tell you how grateful I am that you are here,” he said.
“We’re grateful, sir, to have met you.”
“And forgive me, but I will follow you often. I will be where you can reach me easily when you need me. Tonight, I will watch over my daughter. But when I know that she is safe, I will be with you,” he told them solemnly.
“We’re going to see Antonio Martinelli’s family and hopefully learn something from them. One thing is obvious,” Grant said. “The man was threatened. He gave up his own life because he was in terror that his children or grandchildren might suffer in his stead. And maybe, just maybe …”
“I will look about, ask my friends at the cemetery, if they have seen Antonio. But … it was very strange. I was here all along, you know, desperate to determine if I was capable of anything at all if danger came to this house. But I was in the back, and I heard, deep in the essence of my soul, I heard when you called to me,” he told Shelly.
“And perhaps we will reach Antonio. I’m Shelly Mahoney, sir, and this is Grant Markham. Signore Mero, we are grateful, and we will do everything that we can not to fail you,” Shelly promised.
The spirit smiled.
“I believe you. Now, of course, go. It would not do for my daughter to think you were ransacking the house!” Vincenzo said.
They smiled and headed out. Just as they did so, Valeria appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Tutti bene!” Grant told her.
“La casa è bella!” Shelly said, hoping that her tiny bit of the language was being used correctly.
Grant looked at her, arching a brow and smiling.
“I know a tiny bit!” she told him.
Apparently, Valeria did, too. She laughed.
“Grazie!” she said, and turning, she started on down the stairs.
Grant glanced at Shelly and nodded; she followed Valeria, with him falling into step behind her.
Sal and Alfredo were standing by the entry. They looked from Grant to Shelly expectantly.
“Anything?” Alfredo asked.
“It is a stunningly beautiful home,” Shelly said.
“Falling into ruin until Vincenzo put his own back and then his own money into it,” Sal told them.
“Exactly, and while we were looking in Vincenzo’s room …” Shelly began, looking to Grant. The men had worked with him before. They might be more willing to take a suggestion if it came from him.
He looked from them to Valeria. “Valeria needs protection, as does Dante, whether they want to believe it or not. Valeria knows we’re right, that a terrified man confessed to save his own family, and it was all accepted because there was no other suspect and no clues whatsoever.
And you know about the curse tablet. I found it wedged in the bricks of the fireplace when we were here before.
” He paused for a moment and quoted from the curse tablet he’d discovered at the house.
“‘May the steel of the strength you think you wield tear into your heart and soul and cleanse all that is human within you with the pureness of a bath of blood.’ Come on, my friends. This is beginning to look more and more political. And if Dante is following in his uncle’s footsteps … ”