I took a deep breath and shimmied up high enough to get my butt even with the roof ledge. The palm creaked back and forth in the breeze and as it leaned toward the building, I heaved myself onto the roof, rolled away from the ledge and lay there gasping for breath.
I stayed on my back until my breathing quieted, and my muscles stopped shaking. The blue sky stretched horizon to horizon. My eyes drifted shut, and I pretended I was on Lara beach without a care in the world. But it didn’t work. My mind was in extreme frantic mode, plunging about trying to find a way out of my predicament.
I struggled to my feet and stood for a moment trying to get my bearings. The view went on forever, most of it sea. The house was on the edge of a rock cliff and looking back toward land there were few homes, all of them large and walled. We were at the end of a cul-de-sac. That would make it hard finding a taxi or using other houses as cover.
I’d have to steal one of Mr. Bellomo’s cars. If I could get to a phone, I could call Yannis to come get me, but I hesitated to do that because I didn’t want to pull him into this mess. Yannis would be at work. Knowing him, he would drop everything to help me out.
I walked the perimeter of the house, which was a feat in itself, keeping careful watch that no one would be peering back at me. On two sides rock met sea. On the third and fourth were gardens with several acres of swimming pool, sloping down to beach area complete with dock. A yacht was moored at the end of the dock which extended out a considerable distance into the water. A large gazebo sat on an extensive deck area about half-way out. The fifth side of the house was the main entrance and driveway, gated, of course. The house was a pentagon, two story, flat roof. Why one man needed so much square footage was beyond me.
There were two balconies each on the sea side of the house. An extended balcony swept the garden and beach sides of the house and columns stretched the height of two floors on the entrance side.
I scurried around half bent in my reconnoitering, then lay down on the entrance side of the house and peeked over the edge. A white van stood in the semi-circular drive on the entrance side. Maybe a delivery vehicle. No other cars in sight although there was a separate garage removed from the house with eight doors. Did that mean eight vehicles? For one man? I could borrow one of those.
A stakeout was in order. I watched the front entrance. When I had almost decided the effort was an exercise in futility, a silver SUV pulled up at the entrance gate and passed through, stopping below me. The windows were tinted, but I could make out two figures inside. I flattened down as best I could but with enough eye showing to catch what was going on.
Out of the driver side stepped Luigi’s twin. I didn’t think there were two men that big on the island. He opened the passenger side and helped Zach out. He was ruffed up. Hair mussed, shirt tail out in the back. This was not Mr. Neat and Cool. As the pair passed below me, the driver helping Zach, I caught sight of the red welt under Zach’s eye and what looked like blood oozing from his lip. One sleeve of his shirt was ripped nearly off. Great Zeus and all the Greek gods. What had happened?
I shrank back from the edge of the roof and hid until I thought they were inside then peeked over. A boy drove the SUV to the garage and parked. I wondered if he left the keys inside. One thing I did know. I had to determine if my aunt was in the palace, since she wasn’t with Zach. I hoped he hadn’t taken her anywhere. Then I’d find out what happened to Zach.
Crouching as low as I could, I ran along the edge of the roof. The best approach, I figured, was to check out all the balconies to see if any of them looked different than mine. What I expected to find, I couldn’t say. Maybe my aunt would hang her undies out to dry on the balcony or something. I didn’t think she’d be in the front on the garden and beach side of the house, but I ran along those two sides of the pentagon first, just to make sure. More potted palms and smaller shrubs adorned these balconies. I scanned them and found nothing that caught my eye to tell me human beings inhabited the rooms.
That left the two sides facing the sea. I checked the one opposite our rooms. On closer inspection the long balcony on that side displayed a virtual forest of palms, an awning, lounge furniture and table. No one was outside but it didn’t take much imagination to figure that was Mr. Bellomo’s room or the master bedroom suite. The palms cleared my roof top viewing platform. That would be my second choice in the event that they would be sharing a room. Perish the thought. I didn’t see any ladies undies hanging anywhere on that balcony.
I decided the balcony closest to mine was the most likely place for my aunt, if she were here. I crouched and looked over the edge of the roof onto a balcony that looked identical to mine. Small, with potted palms, no awning, no table, one lounge chair. On the lounge chair a paperback book lay open, like someone had been reading and gone inside for iced tea. I strained to read the title. I could make out a man and woman in the clutches on the cover. A positive sign there was a woman in this suite.
I nearly fell over myself trying to get down the palm tree. It scraped the roof’s edge. I hugged the palm, holding on to the edge of the roof, and inched down the trunk. I was getting the knack of palm tree climbing. My feet touched down on the pot, sandals still in tack. I jumped the rest of the way to the deck of the balcony and ducked behind the potted palms on the outside chance that this might be a female relative’s room.
After a glance at the paperback I knew. It was a title from the collection of Zazora Deville, my aunt’s favorite romance author, and it looked like a new copy. At least she wasn’t tied up. Maybe she was even enjoying herself. Wouldn’t that be funny if, after all this worrying, she were having a good time?
I dared a peek into the interior of the room but the glare from the window glass made everything inside look black. I inched to the open door and peered in. There standing not five feet from me was Aunt Elizabeth, hand over her mouth and eyes wide.
“Lordie, Claudie, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Why on Earth are you on my balcony and how on Earth did you get here? Why didn’t you come in by the door?”
I rushed over to give her a hug and a squeeze then stepped back for a once over to make sure arms and legs and other body parts were intact and unscathed. She wore a black and gold caftan decorated with Greek gods and goddesses, some in rather suggestive positions. Her bright white hair was neatly coiffed in a French twist and gold bangles danced from one wrist. The other held an iced drink half the contents of which were now on the soft, white carpeting. The real eye opener was the huge rock on the third finger of her left hand. She saw me staring at it, blushed and stammered and sighed but no words of explanation made it from her lips.
“You aren’t … you didn’t … he didn’t …” I wasn’t doing much better.
“Oh, Claudie, Salvatore Bellomo is the nicest, kindest man I have ever met. He gave me this lovely diamond.” She held up the huge thing. It sparkled in its gold setting. A lot of gold was in that setting.
“You mean …”
“Yes, he proposed, but we haven’t set a date yet.”
I stood shocked into silence. She was lost in admiring the rock. It was gorgeous. I was not expert on diamonds but it looked real. It had a carved gold setting, giving it an antique look. It gleamed and shone brighter than any diamond I ever saw.