In all likelihood, she was right now, too. It was not that I particularly liked her snarky comments about Alessandro and Eva Maria, but then, someone had to make them, and my own mind was clearly embroiled in a conflict of interest.
Panting with the ongoing effort of staying alive, Janice readily grasped the hand I held out for her and eventually managed to swing a leg over the railing. “Climbing…” she gasped, coming down like a sack of potatoes on the other side, “is such sweet sorrow!”
“Why,” I asked, as she sat gasping on the floor of the balcony, “did you not use the stairs?”
“Very funny!” she shot back. “Considering there’s a mass murderer out there who hates my guts!”
“Come on!” I said. “If Umberto had wanted to wring our necks he would have done it a long time ago.”
“You never know when these people will suddenly snap!” Janice finally got up, brushing off her clothes. “Especially now that we have Mom’s box. I say we get out of here prontissimo, and-” Only now did she actually look at my face and notice my red and puffy eyes. “Jesus, Jules!” she exclaimed. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said, dismissively. “I just finished reading about Romeo and Giulietta. Sorry to spoil the plot, but there’s no happy end. Nino tries to seduce her-or, rape her-and she kills herself with sleeping potion, just before Romeo comes blasting in to save her.”
“What the hell did you expect?” Janice went inside to wash her hands. “People like the Salimbenis don’t change. Not in a million years. It’s hardwired into their system. Evil with a smile. Nino… Alessandro… cut from the same cloth. You either kill them, or you let them kill you.”
“Eva Maria is not like that-” I began, but Janice wouldn’t let me finish.
“Oh, really?” she sneered from the bathroom. “Allow me to broaden your horizon. Eva Maria has been playing you since day one. Do you seriously think she was on that plane by accident?”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” I gasped. “No one else knew I was arriving on that plane except-” I stopped.
“Precisely!” Janice tossed aside the towel and threw herself down on the bed. “They’re obviously working together, her and Umberto. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re brother and sister. That’s how the Mafia works, you know. It’s all about family, all about favors and covering each other’s ass-mind you, I’d love to cover your boyfriend’s ass, except I’m not sure I want to end up sleeping under a floor.”
“Oh, would you give it a break!”
“No, I won’t!” Janice was on a roll, feet in the air. “Cousin Peppo says that Eva Maria’s husband, Salimbeni, was a bastardo classico. He was definitely into some über-organized badass behavior with limos and guys in shiny suits and Sicilian ties, the whole scene. Some people think Eva Maria had her little sugar daddy put down so she could take over the biz and get rid of the limit on her credit card. And your Mister Candypants is obviously her favorite muscle, if not downright toy dawg. But now-ta-daa!-she’s sicced him on you, and the question is: Will he dig up a bone for her, or for you? Can the virgitarian turn the playboy from his wicked ways, or will the scary godmother prevail and steal back her family jewels as soon as you get your cute little hands on them?”
I just looked at her. “Are you finished?”
Janice blinked a couple of times, recovering from her solo flight of fancy. “Definitely. I’m so outta here. You?”
“Oh, crap!” I sat down next to her, suddenly exhausted. “Mom was trying to leave us a treasure. And we’ve screwed it up. I’ve screwed it up. Don’t I owe it to her to straighten things out?”
“The way I see it, all we owe her is to stay alive.” Janice dangled a pair of keys in front of me. “Let’s go home.”
“What are those for?”
“Mom’s old house. Peppo told me all about it. It’s southeast of here, in a place called Montepulciano. It’s been empty all these years.” She looked at me with guarded hopefulness. “Wanna come?”
I stared at her, amazed that she could bring herself to ask. “You really want me to come?”
Janice sat up. “Jules,” she said, with unusual sobriety, “I really want us both to get out of here. This is not just about a statue and some gemstones. There is something really spooky going on. Peppo told me about a secret society of people who believe there is a curse running in our family, and that they need to stop it. And guess who runs the whole show? Yes, your little mobster-queen. This is the same kind of sick stuff that Mom was into… something about secret blood rituals to conjure the spirits of the dead. Excuse me for not being enthusiastic.”
I got up and walked over to the window, frowning at my own reflection. “She has invited me to a party. At her place in Val d’Orcia.”
When Janice didn’t answer, I turned to see what was wrong. She was lying back on the bed, clutching her face. “God help us!” she moaned. “I don’t believe this! Let me guess: El Niño is going, too?”
I threw up my arms. “Come on, Jan! Don’t you want to get to the bottom of this? I do!”
“And you will!” Janice sprang from the bed and started stomping back and forth, fists clenched. “You’ll end up on the bottom of something, that’s for sure, with your heart broken and your feet in cement. I swear to God… if you do this, and you end up dead like all our ancestors that are supposedly buried under Eva Maria’s front steps, I will never speak to you again!”
She looked at me belligerently, and I stared back in disbelief. This was not the Janice I knew. The Janice I knew could not have cared less about my movements, or my fate, except to hope that I failed miserably in everything I set out to do. And the idea of me with my feet in cement would have made her slap her knees laughing, not bite her lip as if she was just about to cry.
“All right,” she said more calmly, when I remained silent, “go ahead, then, and get yourself killed in some… satanic ritual. See if I care.”
“I didn’t say I was going.”
She deflated a bit. “Oh! Well, in that case, I think it’s high time you and I had a gelato.”
WE SPENT A GOOD CHUNK of the afternoon sampling old and new flavors in Bar Nannini, an ice cream parlor conveniently located in Piazza Salimbeni. Not exactly reconciled, we had at least come to agree on two things: We knew far too little about Alessandro to be comfortable with him driving away with me tomorrow, and, secondly, gelato was better than sex.
“Just trust me on that one,” said Janice, winking to cheer me up.
For all her faults, my sister had always had tremendous perseverance, and she single-handedly kept watch for over an hour, while I was crouched on a bench in the far corner of the shop, mortified in advance at the idea of being discovered.
Suddenly, Janice pulled at me to get up. She didn’t say anything; she didn’t have to. Peeking out through the glass door together, we watched Alessandro as he crossed Piazza Salimbeni on foot and continued down the Corso.
“He’s going downtown!” observed Janice. “I knew it! Guys like that don’t live in the burbs. Or maybe”-she made eyes at me-“he’s going to meet his mistress.” We both stretched our necks to see better, but Alessandro was no longer visible. “Damn!”
We shot out of Bar Nannini and cantered down the street as best we could without attracting too much attention, which was always a challenge in Janice’s company. “Wait!” I grabbed her by the arm to slow her down. “I see him! He’s right-uh-oh!”
Just then, Alessandro stopped, and we both ducked into a doorway. “What’s he doing?” I hissed, too afraid of disclosure to see for myself.