Death in the City of Bridges (A Miles Jordan Mystery Thriller Series Book 2) by J. C. Ceron

Author:J. C. Ceron [Ceron, J. C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gold Coast Books LLC
Published: 2022-10-17T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Two

Ponte dei Sospiri

After dinner, we made our way down narrow, winding streets until we reached a canal. Converted gas streetlights and lanterns affixed to brackets bolted into the building exteriors provided a warm, golden illumination. In the water, the lights shimmered like moons. Kamaria took my hand and dragged me across a short bridge. On the other side, a gondolier wearing the traditional black-and-white-striped shirt and straw hat smoked a cigarette. He stood on the jetty where his handsome boat was docked.

“Come, Miles. We will ride a gondola.”

I don’t like boats. They shift under my weight the moment I set foot in them, making me feel I’ll lose my balance, tip over, and bounce into the water. Humpty Dumpty. The humiliation of the fall would pale in comparison to having the incident recorded on someone’s phone and posted on the Internet for the world to see. This is the age we live in, where the eye of the camera was omnipresent. As a cop, I was sharply attuned to it, knowing every action I took, every word I said was material for someone’s camera phone. It was a harrowing way to do the job.

As we approached, I eyed the gondola’s black lacquer finish and sleek, elegant body with suspicion. It looked too small and filled me with a sense of foreboding. I stopped. Kamaria turned around and put her hands on her hips.

“The big man is afraid of a little boat?” Her smile turned into that lopsided grin that always made her look mischievous and sexy.

“Of course not,” I lied.

“You first.” She pointed to the boat and turned to talk to the gondolier.

I took a deep breath, grasped the jetty railing, and boarded.

The gondola rocked as all boats do, but boxed in by two red-and-white-striped poles, and perhaps because of its unusual design (curvier and bulkier on one side), it was stabler than I expected. I staggered into its lavish passenger cabin without incident, landing in a loveseat with ornate framing and a tufted back; the walls of the cabin had elaborate wood carvings, including one of the winged lion.

Kamaria sat next to me. It was a snug and cozy fit.

The gondolier assumed his position behind us, standing on the stern. He worked the oar, which rested on a wooden fulcrum projecting from the side of the boat. Soon, we were underway.

“He is Luigi,” Kamaria said. “The gondolier.”

I turned and nodded at Luigi.

Under his straw hat, I glimpsed a brushstroke of silver and a craggy face. He was older than I expected, perhaps early sixties, and showed no signs of exertion despite the heavy cargo. He rowed the boat with ease, so he was either a lot stronger than he looked, or the gondola was a highly efficient craft. We glided along the dark water as gracefully as a duck in a pond. I felt like a kid on a waterpark ride.

“This is great.” I put my arm around Kamaria. “Now I really feel like I’m in Venice!”

“Fantastico.”

We kissed.

Kamaria reached in her purse for her phone.

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