The Tuscan Child by Rhys Bowen

Author:Rhys Bowen [Bowen, Rhys]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
ISBN: 9781503951822
Publisher: Lake Union Publishing
Published: 2018-02-19T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

JOANNA

June 1973

I picked up the three objects from my bed, examining them in my hand and wondering what they could mean. The German banknote was easy enough to understand. German money. Someone had been paid German money. But the other two? I stared at the piece of stiffened cloth. It was dark brown. I lifted it up and sniffed for the smell of paint, then recoiled. It was not paint. It had a faintly metallic smell. Surely it was blood. Hastily I scooped up the three things and shoved them into the toe of one of my spare shoes, where they would be safely hidden. Then I folded the letter and put it back inside the envelope, which I carefully placed between the pages of my dictionary, just in case.

I could tell nobody—that was clear. Not even Paola. She must not be put in danger. I realised now that Gianni had been trying to get me alone last night not for an amorous encounter but because he wanted to tell me something. He knew the truth about Sofia. He must have known about my father. And this was enough to get him killed. I stared through the bars on my window out into the blindingly bright sunshine. Had he been followed here last night? Had someone seen him push the envelope through the bars and shutters of my window and then hit him over the head? In which case I was in danger. It occurred to me that I should have just left the envelope where I had found it so that anyone who came to search would realise that I was completely unaware of its contents. But it was too late for that now.

The most sensible thing for me to do would be to go back to Florence and take the next train home. Once I was out of the country, I would be safe. But the two policemen had said I was not allowed to leave the area until I was given permission. There was no bus I could take, and anyone who gave me a lift could get into trouble for abetting my escape. I was trapped here. I would have to make sure I stayed close to Paola. She would not let anything happen to me.

I collected my sponge bag and towel and almost ran back to the house.

“You are indeed eager for your bath,” Paola commented, noting I was breathing hard. “Relax, my little one. Forget about what you have seen. Forget about those men. Gianni and his mistakes are nothing to do with us. May God have mercy on his soul, and also on his poor wife, who is now left alone. She will now be like me, unable to take care of the sheep and make cheese. I must go and offer her comfort, but not today. She may not even know the truth yet, poor soul.”

Paola took me through a long tiled hallway and ushered me into an enormous bathroom with a big claw-foot tub against one wall.

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