The Raven (The Florentine #1)(86)

Raven walked with her cane to her knapsack and picked up her new phone. She called Ambrogio.

“Good afternoon, Signorina Wood.” He greeted her in English. “How may I help you?”

Raven grew flustered. “Um, hello, Ambrogio. Can I speak with William?”

“I’m afraid his lordship cannot be disturbed. How may I assist you?”

“Can you give him a message for me? It’s urgent.”

“Of course.”

She paused, feeling awkward. “Can you tell him that, um, the man I saw being attacked in Santo Spirito was an Interpol agent named Savola, who was working with the Carabinieri to investigate the robbery at the Uffizi?”

Raven’s tone grew urgent. “William needs to know this right away. The police haven’t approached me, but one of the officers is here and he spoke to one of my colleagues. Because the agent was attacked in front of my apartment, I’m worried they’ll put it together and come looking for me.”

“Please don’t worry, signorina. I will see that your message reaches his lordship. Is Luka with you?”

“I think he’s outside the gallery, waiting.”

“If there are any problems, go to Luka. He will bring you here.”

“Yes. Yes, thank you.”

“May I help you in any other way?”

Raven sighed. “No. Thank you, Ambrogio. That’s everything.”

“Then good-bye, signorina.”

“Good-bye.”

She ended the call, staring at her cell phone.

She’d passed along the information, but felt far from comforted. At that moment, however, there was nothing she could do.

She lifted her knapsack and began walking toward the door, leaning heavily on her cane.

That was when she saw Ispettor Batelli striding toward her.

“You saw Agent Savola being attacked?” he asked, in Italian.

“What?” She stalled.

“You just said that you saw him. What did you see?”

Raven frowned. “You misunderstood my English. I didn’t say that.”

Batelli swore. “I heard what you said. And my English is perfect. Savola’s Vespa was found outside your apartment.”

“Really? That’s strange.” She forced a smile. “I’m afraid I’m late for my lunch. If you’ll excuse me . . .”

“Who is William?” he asked, intercepting her.

“I have no idea.”

“Your telephone call. You wanted to speak with William. William who?”

“A family friend.” She smiled again. “Now I really have to go.”

She tried to move past him but he stood in front of her.

“William York?”

Raven attempted to hide her recognition, but she suspected she failed based on Batelli’s triumphant expression.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She skirted him and limped toward the door.

“Why didn’t you call the police? Why didn’t you report it?”

“Because I didn’t see anything.” She spoke over her shoulder.

“The investigating officers were told that Agent Savola was following you after hours. When they found his Vespa, they should have interviewed you as a matter of procedure. Why didn’t they?”

Raven didn’t turn around. “You’re harassing me. If you don’t leave me alone, I’m going to Dottor Vitali.”

“And tell him what? I overheard you confess to having witnessed a crime.”

“I didn’t witness anything.”

Batelli brought his body in front of hers. “I saw the police reports. Your name doesn’t appear. Why is that?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She continued her way to the door, desperate to get away from him.

“Someone is protecting you,” he called. “I’m going to find out who. You’re going to be questioned.”

Raven increased her pace.

“This time it will be with the public prosecutor!”

She exited the lab, ducking into the women’s bathroom. Leaning against the wall, she screwed her eyes shut and tried to calm herself.

She was in trouble.

Raven didn’t see Batelli when she exited the bathroom. In fact, he seemed to have disappeared.

She sent a text to Ambrogio, not wishing to court disaster by speaking to him on the telephone again.

He texted back five words:

His lordship will address it.

Raven took only a small measure of comfort from that text.

She was too agitated to eat lunch and so she wandered the second floor of the gallery, moving past the Botticelli room to look at Michelangelo’s Doni Tondo.

She hung back, allowing the visitors to admire the work.

She forced herself to stop worrying and simply focus on the great artist’s depiction of the holy family. Her eyes traced the figures, the folds in the fabric, and the men in the background.

By the time she was finished, her lunch break was almost over. She felt much, much better. Great art had the ability to soothe as well as nurture the heart.

Having taken what amounted to a mental vacation, Raven returned to the lab. She was pleased to be able to lose herself in the restoration work, finding a comforting rhythm in every brushstroke.