“Anyone who knows how to use them would know how to make them,” I said, walking over to the workbench. I rummaged around until I came up with a length of thick, heavy wire. An awl. A hacksaw, and pieces of scrap metal. “Everything a knowledgeable lock picker would need. Or locksmith, the only difference being in how the knowledge is used.”
“The thief made his own tools, here?” Kaz asked.
“Well, I doubt he came with them. All he needed for that lock was a tension wrench and a pick. It’s not a simple lock, but for someone who knows what he’s doing, it wouldn’t take long. Quicker each time.”
“So he simply pops down here whenever he’s hungry,” Kaz said. “Selfish of him.”
“So likely not a locksmith,” I said. “Most likely a B amp;E guy who never got caught.”
“Breaking and entering,” Kaz said, for Nini’s benefit.
“Luckily he hasn’t taken much, but what he has was the best of it,” she said.
“You said the amounts increased recently,” I said. “Would that have included a whole salami?”
“Yes,” Nini said. “Even Dick Tracy couldn’t have figured that out. How did you know?”
“A guess,” I said.
“A deduction,” Kaz corrected.
Back upstairs, we sat around as the sisters cleared the tea tray. I was getting hungry, and didn’t argue when they returned with bread, a bit of cheese, olives, and wine. Deducing is hard work.
“What next?” Kaz asked.
“We wait. And watch.”
“Who?”
“The gardener’s house,” I said in a low voice, putting a finger to my lips.
“That young girl?” Kaz said in disbelief.
“That young girl, who this morning held a bag of salami and other goodies. I didn’t think anything of it until Nini mentioned how rationed the meat was.”
“Rosana? She has two young children. How could she…?” Nini stopped herself, then said, “Aha.”
“Yeah. We may have a love-struck thief. Or one who is trying to impress her.”
“There are enough women here among the diplomat families who would give everything for that food. Some enthusiastically. But Rosana has been through a great deal. I don’t see her in that light.”
“How long has she been here?” I asked.
“Almost two weeks. She came in with the Sunday crowds, and asked a passing priest for help. Luckily he was a friend of Monsignor Corrigan. We were so full up, we had to put her and the children in the gardener’s cottage. She has been cooking and cleaning for him, and I think he likes the company.”
“Where did she come from?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere in the north. She’s Jewish, and when her husband was taken she decided to make her way to Rome. She had false papers, but they were not very good. It’s a miracle she made it. Should I ask her who gave her the food?”
“No,” I said. “She may want to protect him. Kaz, why don’t you watch the gardener’s place. Nini, do you have any food you could bring in, something to tempt him with?”
“No, but I’m sure John May can raid the ambassador’s pantry for a good cause. I will get something tonight and bring it through the refectory when everyone is eating.” She picked up a wineglass, her small hand as delicate as the crystal.
“Perfect. Kaz, you find a spot tonight and keep watch. Be careful, and come get me once you spot this guy. Remember, he’s a professional criminal, so we don’t know what to expect.”
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
“According to Monsignor O’Flaherty, I’m going to visit him and get a haircut.”
“Oh, you’ll like Rino. A charming man,” Nini said.
“You know him?” I asked.
“Yes, Rino Messina is one of us. He gives haircuts to the refugees and is a courier for the monsignor. He’s also a very good businessman.”
“How so?”
“He got the contract to provide barbering services at the Regina Coeli prison. Twice a month he spends a full day there. Rino gives the guards a trim, free of charge. He has the run of the place. You and he should find much to talk about.”
“Has he seen…?” I stopped and looked at Kaz.
“Yes, Billy, I told Nina about Sister Justina.”
“Has he seen her?” I asked. Hoped. Begged.
“Yes, after she was first taken in a roundup. She was not harmed.”
“But that was a while ago.”
“Yes. We have had no word since then. Which is not always bad news,” she hastened to add. “Relatives are always notified when a prisoner dies in custody. There is hope, Billy.” She let her hand rest on my arm, as I tried to find any hope in the fact that Diana was alive but lost in the depths of a Gestapo prison.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Kaz and I had dinner in the refectory. Nini served food alongside the nuns and we both took small portions, not wanting to appear greedy after they’d already fed us lunch. It wasn’t much. Pasta with a bit of olive oil, garlic, and turnips. It filled the belly, but I found myself getting even angrier at the thief who deprived these people of something extra.
At the long tables, families sat together, parents and children speaking Spanish and Portuguese, languages of the latest nations whose diplomats had sought refuge here. A group of Italian men sat together, looking dejected, eating in silence. Some were dressed in worn suits, others in uniform. After the fall of Mussolini, some Italian troops fought against the Germans when they entered Rome. It was a brave stand, but not well planned. These men were the lucky survivors. The rest of the gathered diners were escaped POWs, their uniforms cleaned and mended, but showing the wear and tear from months or years of captivity. It was easy to spot the newest POWs. Their uniforms were in better shape and they still had muscle on their bones. The others, especially the Eighth Army veterans of North Africa, were thin and gaunt, their light desert khaki shirts barely held together. There were a lot of Brits, with a sprinkling of Americans, mostly airmen who’d been shot down over Italy.
“Do you think the thief is here?” Kaz asked.
“If he’s housed here, yes. He couldn’t afford to stay away from a meal; it would arouse suspicion.”
“Perhaps it’s one of those poor fellows captured at Tobruk two years ago,” he said. “I could understand that. They look half starved.”
“Maybe. But they probably made it through by sticking together, not going each man for himself. Remember, the thefts were small stuff, not enough for a whole squad.”
“So we need to look for a loner,” Kaz said. “Maybe someone who was recently captured.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because he would have had less time to adapt to privation. Or perhaps he was never captured, but made his way here after he was shot down. He’d owe less to others if he hadn’t shared in their suffering.”
“Good thinking, Kaz! You’re getting to be one helluva detective.” He blushed again, and I caught his eye as Nini passed with a tray of dishes. Her smile was dazzling, and it was all for Kaz. “You are one lucky guy, you know that?”
His face went blank, and I knew it hadn’t been the right thing to say. A guy with good luck didn’t lose his entire family to the Nazis, and then watch the woman he loved die in an automobile explosion.
“I’m sorry, Kaz, I didn’t mean…”
“No, Billy, it is all right. I know what you meant, and I feel it too. But I feel pulled in two directions. The past contains deep sorrows, and the present offers a chance at joy. I have to convince myself that I am not betraying one for the other.”
“Kaz,” I said, leaning in and placing my hand on his shoulder. “There is not a single person in your past who would not want you to have joy in your life. You owe it to them to live, not simply exist.”
“I know,” Kaz said in a small, hesitant voice. “But it is so much easier to not feel anything. To not care about living removed all burdens. Now, my heart breaks every time I see her.”
“Because she reminds you of loving Daphne.”
“Yes.”
“Whom you will never forget, until your dying day, no matter what.”