“You mean he smuggles, too.”
Zach frowned. “I don’t think he does directly, like we would never find his fingerprints on the goods. Others would do it for him.”
I sat forward. “How do you know all this?”
“The Internet. You can find out just about anything you want there.”
“What? You mean they have Smugglers.com, and he’s listed?”
He snorted. “No, I mean you can access a boatload of useful info on the Internet, and then you connect the dots. Understand?”
I nodded my head and thought about that. I used the Internet extensively, and it was amazing what one could find with search engines and a little ingenuity.
“But I don’t understand how nice, grandpa Bellomo, got her out or why he wanted to.”
Zach leaned close to my ear. “Because he happens to be one of the most powerful men in the Mediterranean basin. It would be nothing for him to arrange for a few well-placed bribes and bingo,” he snapped his fingers, “she’s sprung. Bribes are not unheard of in this part of the world, you know,” saying it like he was imparting a big secret.
“But why would he want to do this for Aunt Elizabeth?” I was baffled.
“Love.”
“Love?”
“He’s in love with your aunt.” Then he tapped the air with his finger. “But his romantic interest in your aunt doesn’t quite fit the picture.”
I was still grappling with the idea of someone having a romantic interest in my Aunt Elizabeth. “You mean you think he’s in love with her? Isn’t he married?”
“That wouldn’t mean anything in this part of the world. But no, he isn’t married. He’s a widower. Married for years, has kids but the wife died several years back. He keeps this house for business purposes, but he seems to spend a lot of time here. Must like the weather.”
“Wow.” I slouched back on the couch to digest that one. I kicked off my cute sandals, since they were starting to pinch and dug my toes in the fluffy beige carpet in front of the couch. Most of the room was beige, cream and dove gray. He must use the same decorator as the Amathus Hotel.
Could Mr. Bellomo be in love with my aunt? No, too far out. Too, too far out. All the women in the world, glamorous, wealthy, well-placed, and Mr. Bellomo falls in love with Aunt Elizabeth?
“No, I don’t believe it,” I said aloud.
“Don’t believe what?”
“That he’s got a thing for my aunt.”
Zach shrugged. “Stranger things have happened. Some men find the matronly type a real turn on.”
I looked at him.
“Not me, but everybody’s different.” He spread his hands like it wasn’t his idea.
“But even if he were in love with her, why take the chance to get her out of jail?”
“Because he thinks she knows where Berengaria’s jewels are, and he’s interested in the jewels. And maybe he is in love with her.”
“Now you are smoking something. You’re saying Mr. Bellomo wants my aunt out of jail because she knows where these phantom jewels are and because he’s fallen in love with her?”
“Yes. Make a great book, wouldn’t it?”
I ignored the comment. “Why does he want the jewels?”
“Because he’s in the antiquities business and because they’re worth a lot of money, that’s why.”
“But he’s an upstanding business man.”
Zach hooted. “Oh, c’mon Claudie, you are about to ruin your extraordinary reputation. He’s a business man in the big leagues. They don’t live in a black-white world like ordinary citizens. Everything for them is shades of gray.”
We sat silent for a spell, heads back against the couch, staring up towards the ceiling.
Unbelievable.
“You think there’s anything to eat or drink around here?” I asked. My processing functions were on overload and needed fuel. “I don’t want to think about what time it is.”
Zach stood and looked around. “Looks like we have one balcony, a room leading off from this one, probably the bed room.” He wiggled his eyebrows, and I ignored him. “Wet bar over there. There’ll be a refrigerator with the wet bar, so let’s have a look.”
“Great,” he said, showing off an amber colored bottle. “Wild Turkey. Perfect.” He banged around some more. I heard cupboard doors open and close. “What do you want to drink?”
“How about a big bottle of water.”
“Coming right up.”
He shuffled over, arms laden with junk food. Potato chips, crackers, cheese, nuts, and a big bottle of water.
“Ice?”
“Not for me, it’s cold.”
He sighed over the Wild Turkey like Don Giovanni over a beautiful woman and poured a healthy slug into a whiskey glass. I worked on my water and helped myself to potato chips. Better than steak.
My mind was whirling trying to put all the pieces of the puzzle together. If my aunt were here did that mean she was shacking up with Mr. Bellomo? Had he seduced her? I didn’t even want to think of it. Visions of a love slave, my aunt in a harem costume chained to a bed came to mind. I shook that one away. She wasn’t the type. How did she know where the jewels were, if there were jewels?
Zack was doing neck nuzzles again, pushing me gently into the couch that would have fit three couples easy.
I pulled away and tapped on his chest. “Hold on. What about my aunt? When are we going to look for her?”
He unbuttoned my blouse.
“Yum. These are very ripe.”
“Zach?” I was having a hard time concentrating.
“We need to wait a bit longer before we look for your aunt. We might as well make good use of the time.”
“I love the way you do that.”
He had the rest of my clothes off in no time. He had a devastating way of overcoming my defenses with his mouth.
A while later he said, “I take it that was to your liking.” He stroked my thigh and sipped Wild Turkey.
I blew out a breath. I was the love slave. “I can’t move.”
“As soon as you recover and feel up to it, we’ll have a look around and see if we can find your aunt.”
I dozed off. And awoke snuggled up on the couch with a white soft-as-silk blanket over me with bright sunshine pouring into my eyes. And no Zach.
I groaned. My head was pounding from hitting it on the concrete pavement. I inched up on my elbow, shielding my eyes, trying to figure out where the bright sunlight and breeze were coming from and discovered French doors wide open onto a balcony. Beyond the bars in the balcony rail floated the beautiful blue, dazzling Mediterranean Sea.
I could live like this. I could also use some orange juice for my dry mouth, so I threw off the lovely soft blanket and padded my way to the wet bar in search of refreshment. And yelped. There stood a man I had never seen before. I tried to cover my naked body with my arms but that didn’t conceal anything, so I ran back to the couch and retrieved the blanket and wrapped it around me. Only then did I dare look at the man who stood at the wet bar, watching me.
“Who are you?” I asked in my most commanding voice. “What are you doing in my room?”
“I am Rodolfo. I have brought you something to eat.” He spoke in a good English butler I-see-naked-women-all-the-time tone.
That was the problem with having servants. You never knew where they were going to turn up and at what embarrassing moments.
“Thanks,” I said, trying to sound casual and cool and not at all mortified that he had seen me naked. Me naked with observers was becoming a too frequent occurrence.
“I will leave it here. Is there anything else you will need?”
“Yes, could you tell me what time it is?”
“Lunch time. Twelve noon.”
“Holy Smokes.”
The man walked stiffly across the room to exit through the massive white doors we had entered sometime last night.