Grace Takes Off(14)

            I took take care of all necessary freshening, then pulled on a stretchy but forgiving black-and-white dress and sling-back low pumps. It occurred to me that there was no lock on my door, though, thankfully, someone had put a hook on the one for the bathroom. I took a final look at my reflection in the small mirror over the room’s lone dresser, and headed downstairs to catch Bennett. We had at least a half hour before we were due at dinner.

            Just as I made it to his room, I heard what sounded like an argument in Italian; one man’s voice, one woman’s. It wasn’t Irena, of that I was certain. I wanted to creep closer and find out who was arguing, even though it was none of my business.

            At that moment, Bennett’s door opened, and he nearly jumped to see me standing there.

            “I didn’t mean to scare you,” I said.

            He glanced side to side down the corridor. “What’s all that racket? Who’s having a fight?”

            “No idea,” I said. “If you’d like me to find out, however . . .”

            “I want nothing of the kind,” he said. “You know what trouble you get into when you poke your nose into other people’s business.”

            “I do,” I said. “I’ll stay out of it, but—” Ready to broach the topic I most wanted to ask about, I held off when the arguing abruptly stopped.

            Bennett and I exchanged a silent, wary glance.

            “I guess they’ve resolved their differences,” I whispered.

            Bennett frowned, keeping his voice low, too. “Either that, or they heard us talking and thought better of airing their grievances in front of guests.”

            “Speaking of which—” I began.

            Just then, Angelo lumbered into view. Cheeks flushed, hands fisted, his face was a thundercloud of fury. That is, until he saw us. Eyebrows startled upward, he adopted a more passive expression. With a nod of greeting, he walked past at a quick clip and when he turned a corner, we heard a door slam.

            “At least we know one of the combatants,” Bennett said.

            “I wonder what that was all about. And who he was arguing with.”

            “Grace.” His voice was a warning. “Repeat after me, ‘I will keep my nose clean this time.’” He held an index finger aloft, between us. “We have one more night here in Europe, and we’ve been safe thus far. Let’s not take any chances.”

            “Yes, sir,” I said, giving a mock salute.

            “Shall we go down to dinner?” he asked. With a glance at his watch and a resigned shrug, he added, “We’ll be early, of course, but I wanted to take another look at that gallery.” His brow furrowed and his voice dropped another notch. “There’s something not right—”

            “About the skull?”

            From the far end of the hall: “There you are!”

            We both looked up to see Irena coming our way. “I was looking for you, Grace,” she said, striding to join us. “Are you going down now? May I join you?”

            “That sounds wonderful,” I said.

            I could tell from the look on Bennett’s face that he preferred to hold off our discussion of the skull until we were alone. “I’ll meet you there shortly,” he said. “I have something I’d like to attend to first.” He disappeared down the hall.

            Irena fisted both hips as she assessed me. “Your last night in Europe,” she said, her eyes glittering. “I can think of no better city to spend it in than here in Firenze. I have plans for us. This will be a night for you to remember when you return to the States.”