The Body in the Piazza - By Katherine Hall Page Page 0,92
she had been Faith’s tomb rescuer, why she’d been with Freddy’s killer near the Duomo—trailing him—and why she would be armed. Faith resolved not to tell her or her superiors how easy it had been for Faith to find that out; she’d already decided she wanted to stay friends with her—a link to Freddy, and moreover the woman could cook!
They were in the front balcony, and of course a seat had opened up next to the one Hope had reserved for her sister. They had a perfect view of the orchestra seats and by looking up could see the other balconies as well. Olivia had morphed into an Italian schoolgirl with an extremely short skirt, Uggs, which seemed to be worn year-round here as in the USA, and a wig that transformed her hair into a blond cap cut. On the way to the theater, Olivia had tried to convince Faith that she should leave. Olivia knew everyone in the class, too, but Faith had been firm. She had to see it through. For Freddy . . .
She wished she knew the music on the program better. Unless the terrorists wanted to cause a riot, which was a possibility—they’d have chosen a moment when a shot would be obscured by some kind of crescendo. The minister was sitting in a box directly over and to the left of the stage. He couldn’t have made himself any more of a target unless he’d pinned a bull’s-eye to his chest.
The musicians finished tuning their instruments, there was dead silence, and the first piece began, Ravel’s “Pavane pour une infante défunte,” “Pavane for a Dead Princess”—heartrendingly beautiful and slow. No sudden loud drumrolls or cymbals to muffle the attack. The concert continued with Couperin and Satie—it was bridging many centuries. There was no intermission. Faith kept scanning the seats. She recognized no one except Jean-Luc, and he’d never glanced her way, his eyes fixed on the left of the stage. It was getting late. The concert was almost over. Could Tom have heard wrong? Or had they changed the plan?
The last piece was Debussy’s La Mer. Everyone seemed to be leaning toward the stage in anticipation. This was music Faith knew well. It was one of her father’s favorites—and it was tailor-made for the nefarious act the FLNC had planned. If they didn’t try a shot during the early staccato punctuations—ones mimicking the crashing of waves—the climax at the end would provide the opportunity. And it was her opportunity as well. She’d spotted her quarry. They had just entered, poised behind the last row above Jean-Luc. Insurance? Or was this the plan? That the shot would come from the shadows and the two slip away in the confusion? She saw a glint of metal. It could be a bracelet, or . . . ? No time to speculate.
She stood up as the harp played the opening chords.
“Call yourself an orchestra!” she shouted. “Why, my ten-year-old kid could do better on her kazoo! And as for this place! Hey, how about getting some comfortable seats since we have to listen to this terrible stuff!”
The hisses and boos started to drown her out. Ushers were closing in on her as she continued to scream, “Just ask those people. Over there. She pointed at Jean-Luc, who was scrambling up the aisle. He had certainly recognized her voice. “Ask Constance and Roderick Nashe! They know music.”
Admittedly she’d cribbed the idea from Cary Grant in North By Northwest, but it worked for her as it had worked for him. Jean-Luc and the Nashes were surrounded by a number of plainclothes police who had been unobtrusively occupying the rows around them and Faith had no doubt others were stationed as ushers in the halls as well.
It was time for her to leave, too. She pushed past the concertgoers in their row with Olivia behind her and Faith felt a woman pinch her arm, spitting out a single word, “Americana!”
Sorry to have had to cast aspersions on her native land, Faith nevertheless felt it was worth it. All three had been captured.
Outside on the narrow street, Faith felt herself start to collapse. It was almost over. Olivia was on her phone.
“Tom? Have you heard about Tom!”
“Your husband is safe and sound. He’s being supplied with some panforte from Siena and dropped off at the Rossis’. His ‘friend’ drove him back.”
There was nothing to do save hug the girl very hard—and Olivia hugged her hard back.