The Body in the Piazza - By Katherine Hall Page Page 0,20

could stay in our room until then . . . ,” Faith said.

“But of course.” Paolo looked a bit hurt. As if she needed to ask was written all over his face. Gravely solicitous, he walked them to the elevator.

“Mr. Ives told us he was checking out,” she said. The thought that had been plaguing her all night returned full force. Freddy said he was leaving early. Why had he stayed—and where?

“He did, even though he had the room for another week. He had paid in advance, so I told him it would be here if he changed his mind.”

The fatigue and shock of the night dropped from Faith so abruptly that for a moment she was startled. Her mind began to race.

“So there isn’t anyone there now? Freddy wanted us to see it and said we were to ask you to let us in. That it was the finest room in the hotel, with some interesting features.”

Paolo nodded. If he thought her sudden request odd, he gave no indication. Her husband, however, was looking at her with an expression she knew all too well. “Stay out of it, Faith” could have been written in a comic strip balloon coming from his mouth.

“I will bring the key with the tea.” Paolo bowed slightly as the elevator doors opened.

“Faith . . . ,” Tom began as soon as they were in their room.

“You said his pockets were empty and so did the police. I just want to find his notebook. Maybe he left it in his room. I noticed at the restaurant that it had one of those alphabetical address sections in the back. The only address we have is a post office box in London, and something tells me the same is true on the hotel register, especially as he has been coming here so long. He probably doesn’t even have to sign in at all. There may be some next of kin and it’s only decent we find them. They can’t ship a body to a post office box.”

“The British embassy was sending someone and will take care of all that. You heard the inspector. I know how you feel. It’s rare to meet someone and become such instant close friends, especially at our age, but we only knew Freddy briefly, and our part in both his life and death is over.”

There was a knock on the door and Paolo entered with a tray. He set it down and told them he had instructed the staff not to disturb them. He handed Faith the key to Freddy’s room as well and left.

Faith sipped the hot tea. Chamomile blossoms were the Italian answer to Sominex, or for that matter Prozac as well. A cure for sleeplessness, anxiety, and all sorts of other ills. Paolo had added honey, and soon the sweet liquid was making her both drowsy and calmer. Tom was already lying down. She joined him, resolving to only close her eyes for a moment before going to search Freddy’s room.

An hour later she was awakened by a shaft of sunlight streaming across her face through the windows they had neglected to cover. For a moment, she luxuriated in the warmth of the bed, Tom’s steady breathing, and the thought of the beautiful city surrounding them. And then she remembered.

Freddy was gone. Forever. And she owed it to him to find out what had happened. Robbery gone wrong—the detective’s conclusion? She didn’t think so. Thieves in Rome preyed on tourists in daylight, snatching purses, drawing your attention to a pigeon dropping or other mess on your back, then grabbing your wallet or backpack. Or the gangs of children employed to surround and cut off a target, creating a disturbance while one of them, or an adult, stole your camera, phone, and suitcase. The area around the train station was dangerous, and not just at night.

No, this wasn’t like that. Both men dressed in black, dressed so as not to be seen. Had it started with Freddy tailing his killer or someone else, discovered and forced to flee? Then there was the young man’s expensive clothing. Well, that could be due to the nature of his work—pickings good lately?

Yet, it all still came down to Freddy. Who was Frederick Lancelot Ives?

Any hotel guests who had not departed were lingering at breakfast and the hall was empty as Faith quietly slipped from their room. Freddy’s room was on the same floor as the Fairchilds,’ but at the far end. She hadn’t