The professor interrupted him. “I will do what I deem necessary to protect my family. The streets of Florence are dangerous. The bodies of three men were found near the Arno a short time ago, and the police seem to have no clue who killed them. I’m finished with the investigation; I’m leaving Italy and returning to Cambridge. I’m not planning to return anytime soon.”
“Gabriel, this is too hasty. Speak with Ispettor Batelli. He says he has several promising leads.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Gabriel muttered.
Sensing a break in the conversation, and worried about being surprised as she was eavesdropping, Raven knocked on Vitali’s door.
He invited her to enter and she stepped across the threshold.
“I’m sorry, Dottor Vitali. Professor Urbano sent me to give a report about the Birth of Venus.” Raven eyed the director and Professor Emerson cautiously. “I can come back later.”
“I was just leaving.” The professor retrieved a piece of luggage from nearby. “Good-bye, Massimo. Let me know when you’re in Cambridge.”
Vitali stood and the men shook hands, but the director was reluctant to let his friend go.
“Stay. We can discuss this.”
“Julianne is ill,” the professor announced, ignoring Raven’s presence. “She’s already returned home and has appointments scheduled for some tests. I need to rejoin her as soon as possible. The thief can have the illustrations.”
Raven flinched at his final remark, but said nothing. Gabriel nodded at his friend and at Raven before marching toward the door, his expression pained.
“Professor Emerson.” The sound of Raven’s voice surprised even herself.
He turned toward her, lifting his eyebrows expectantly.
“I’m so sorry to hear that Mrs. Emerson is ill.”
The professor’s eyes narrowed suspiciously and Raven clutched her cane, stumbling over her words.
“I met her. I gave her a tour of the restoration lab. She was very nice to me.”
The professor glanced at Raven’s cane. “I didn’t recognize you.”
“I hope your wife will be all right.” Raven rummaged in her jacket pocket and retrieved a small card. “This is my e-mail address. Please let her know I was asking about her. If there’s anything I can do, anything at all, please let me know.”
A muscle jumped in the professor’s jaw. He took the card from her hand and perused it. His expression softened.
“Thank you.” His sapphire eyes met hers, but only for a moment. Then he exited the office without a backward glance.
With a groan, Vitali slumped in his chair and removed his glasses, passing a hand over his face. He was quiet for some time.
“Well, Miss Wood. Tell me about the Birth of Venus.”
Raven limped to an obliging chair and began her report, but her thoughts were fixed on the professor and his wife, and their infant daughter, Clare.
Chapter Seventeen
“The news is all over the gallery. Emerson is pulling his support from the investigation.” Patrick Wong looked over both shoulders before leaning across the table toward Raven. “I wonder what that asshole Batelli thinks.”
It was Tuesday. Raven was having lunch with Patrick and his girlfriend, Gina, both of whom worked at the Uffizi with her, at an osteria near the Piazza Signoria.
Carefully, Raven rested her fork on her bowl of pasta.
“I haven’t seen Batelli since he cornered me in the restoration lab.” She resisted the urge to mention that Batelli had been ordered by his superiors to stay away from her since then.
“I saw him,” Gina interjected. “He and Vitali were on the second floor, arguing.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” Patrick tucked into his lunch with gusto. “Batelli looks like an idiot. No fingerprints, no footprints, no physical evidence at all. No wonder Emerson brought in a private firm.”
Raven focused on her meal, trying hard not to think about the reason why no physical evidence was found.
“I understand why Professor Emerson is giving up.” Gina shifted her dark hair behind her ear. “If you look at the major art thefts of the twentieth century, most of the artwork was either retrieved in a few weeks or it was lost for decades. Thieves took thirteen paintings from the Gardner Museum in America. It’s been twenty-five years and they still haven’t recovered them.”
“The FBI think they know who took the paintings,” Raven mused. “National Public Radio did a story about it.”
“In twenty-five years, NPR can do a story about Batelli and how he harassed innocent employees while failing to find a single clue.” Patrick gave Raven a sympathetic look.
“I have a theory.” Gina lowered her voice, glancing between her friends. “I don’t think the theft was one of opportunity, because there are other rooms that are more accessible. I think the thieves had a buyer in mind. They’ve probably already delivered the illustrations and the new owner is hiding them.”
Raven’s cheeks flamed as she thought of the elaborate display on the walls of William’s villa. She began nibbling at her pasta determinedly.
“I agree.” Patrick leaned over to press a chaste kiss on his girlfriend’s cheek. “I think Emerson knows this, he’s frustrated with Interpol and the Italian police, and he’s decided to throw in the towel. For now.”
Raven made an effort to sound nonchalant. “Do you think he will come back?”