“Mariana Massari,” he said quickly, pulling out a notebook and flipping back a few pages. “She said she couldn’t remember the physical description, but she saw an older female as she was leaving. Must be you. Eh?”

  A forgettable older female with no striking characteristics whatsoever. Yep, that’s me, Diana thought sourly. “I suppose.”

  He read from the notebook. “She said she thought it was possible that you were carrying the bottle of wine when you arrived.”

  Diana’s eyes went wide. So apparently, Titania didn’t have the same qualms Diana had about casting suspicions around recklessly. “What? I wasn’t. I couldn’t even tell you what kind of wine it was.”

  “Castello Rosa Vino. Local brand, very popular around here,” he said. “Well, she wasn’t entirely sure if you had the bottle. She just seemed to think there was something in your hand, which might have been a bottle,” the officer said with a shrug.

  “No, actually, it was my . . .” She looked around, realizing she’d long since lost it. “It was my program. I was nervous, about meeting a famous actor and all, so I’d been rolling it up in my hand.”

  “Ah . . .” He pressed his lips together, thinking. “You say Signore Camillo invited you backstage? Are you saying he sent you a note sometime before the performance?”

  She nodded, checking her purse. She couldn’t find the origami invitation either. “It was on my seat after intermission. But I seem to have lost the note. It was here just a moment ago, I’m sure. It was folded. Into a flower.”

  She looked around her feet helplessly, knowing it wouldn’t be there. Her purse was huge, and she was nervous. It was probably in there somewhere, but she had butterfingers.

  He held up a hand. “Just give it to me when you find it. But in any case, I hope you weren’t planning on leaving Verona anytime soon?”

  “I . . .” she said, knowing exactly where this was headed. I was, but I guess I’m not now. She shivered. Would she be able to find a hotel around here at such short notice? “No. I’m not planning on leaving.”

  “Good. Could you let us know where you’re staying? Because I think we’re going to have a few more questions for you, if you don’t mind.”

  Diana swallowed. She had a feeling that even if she did mind, it really wouldn’t matter. She was a suspect, and that meant . . . questions. Police poking about. Phone calls. Suspicion. She’d been through it all before, in France.

  She didn’t even want to think of it, much less deal with all of it. She grabbed the cup of water and in one long gulp, drained the entire thing. Poisoned or not, she needed it.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  When the police questioning extravaganza finally came to an end, darkness was settling over the open-air theater, and stars were popping out overhead, dancing among the fairy lights strewn about the theater. The director was clapping his hands and shouting loudly in Italian, trying to organize the group for an impromptu rehearsal with the new Quince, and looking ever more like he was quickly heading for a heart attack. As Diana climbed the steps of the theater to head outside, a sliver of moon shone overhead, and the stars were bright in the clear sky. The silhouettes of large dark forms, maybe bats, were swooping through the darkness, giving the place an eerie feel.

  So much for an exciting, romantic trip to Verona. In fact, this was pretty much the exact opposite of what she’d been hoping for. Creepy, macabre, sinister.

  In the lobby, she spied a promotional poster for the production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Titania and donkey-headed Nick Bottom took up the majority of the real estate on it, but in the corner, there was a small photograph of Quince with the other mechanicals. She leaned forward and looked closely at him, his rakish smile such a stark contrast to the expression on his face the last time she saw him.

  She shuddered and pushed open the door into the cool night. Though the theater had been open-air, the specter of death had made the place stuffy and suffocating. Around her, crickets sang. She looked about the street, still bustling with people, and sighed. She’d hoped Marcello would be her guide and tell her where to go in this vast city. Now, without him, without her iPhone, she felt lost.

  Remembering her girls, she reached into her purse to fish out her phone when a hand suddenly clamped on her arm.

  Gasping, she looked up to see Bea. “Hi, Mommy! I love your dress! Those shoes are killer. You look so pretty! How was the play?”

  Diana patted her madly beating heart and took in a breath, trying to recover from the fright as Bea and Lily hugged her. “Oh, you scared me. What are you doing here? Weren’t you at the wine bar? I thought I was meeting you at—”

  “That was hours ago! We were wondering where you were. The play let out a long time ago, and we—”

  “What’s going on here?” Lily asked, her eyes following a police officer toward his patrol car. There were three of them, actually, parked nearby, and one ambulance. “Is everything okay? Why are there police here?”

  Diana held out her hands before her eldest, the worrier, could get too wound up. “Yes. Everything is fine. There was just a little bit of excitement . . . that’s all.”

  “Excitement? Like what?”

  “Someone—one of the actors—died.”

  Bea’s eyes bulged. “Died? What happened? Like a heart attack?”

  “They don’t know. But of course, they had to question everyone, and—”

  “They questioned everyone in the theater?” Lily asked, skeptical. “So they’re suspecting foul play?”

  “I suppose they are. They didn’t question everyone, of course, just—”

  “And they questioned you?”

  “Yes. But I actually knew him. You see, I met him on the train and he was the one who gave me the ticket to the play.”

  Bea’s mouth hung open. “Oh my gosh. How crazy! What, did he just drop dead on stage while reciting his lines, or what?”

  Diana was just about done. She didn’t want to talk about this ever again, though she knew, with the police on her tail, it’d be following her around every moment she spent in this town. Another town, ruined.

  Stop, Diana. You’ll be fine. They don’t think you did it. And Verona isn’t ruined. That last murder didn’t ruin Paris for you. You’re here on vacation with your two favorite people. It’ll be great . . .

  “I don’t know. It’s a long story. And I’m exhausted. I’m sure the police will find the answers and that will be that. Let’s talk about something else.”

  “Great. What are we going to do? Want to get dinner?” Bea asked. “Then maybe we can walk—”

  Diana sighed. “I’m actually really exhausted.”

  “What?” Bea’s face fell. “But we came all the way up here to—”

  “Yes, I know.” She didn’t want to tell Lily that she was a suspect in the murder and that the police had told her she needed to stay nearby. She’d have to find a hotel somewhere. Knowing Lily, she’d have a conniption if she found out her mother was a suspected murderer. Bea would probably come up with all these wild theories that would make Diana’s head spin even more. “I was thinking I’d stay overnight here, get a good night’s sleep, and head out later.”

  “But Mom!” Lily protested, echoing her sister. “We came all this way to enjoy Verona, and . . .”

  “Yes. I know. You’re right. I’m sorry. We can get dinner.”

  They started to walk up the street, as Diana fished out her phone. It’d be hard to find a hotel with this thing. Her best bet would probably be to just stop at one and ask if they had room. She yawned, and stopped short as something occurred to her. “Which reminds me. Why were you two so late leaving Florence? I thought you were going to come in on the ten, but you took the two?”

  “Oh, um . . .” Bea and Lily exchanged looks.

  Diana didn’t have to be well-rested in order to know what that meant. It meant something bad. Something they were reluctant to tell her. She braced herself as she shifted her glance between her girls. “Come, now. What is this all about?”

  “Well, we—”

  A horrible, eardrum-bursting giggle pierced the air, as well as the sound of heels clip-clopping on the stone walk. Diana knew that sound, as it’d been etched into her psyche. She cringed when she saw the approaching silver head and bald spot, shining in the moonlight, behind the girls.

  They parted to reveal a sight she hadn’t wanted to see in Verona, or Florence, or really . . . anywhere. Not a nightmare, but a nightmare come true.

  It was Evan, and his lovely bride-to-be. “Hello hello hello!” he shouted, draping an arm around Bea. “How is everyone this fine evening?”

  Diana stared, horrified, unable to utter a single word.

  Tilda hugged herself in the chilly night air. It made sense that she was freezing, because she had little fat on her bones, and was wearing a tight halter dress that, once again, left little to the imagination. She looked up at the crumbling façade of the arena and giggled. “Oh my gawd, that place is a theater? It needs a wrecking ball to put it out of its misery, if you ask me!” She shook her head. “I bet it doesn’t even have air conditioning.”

  Diana didn’t bother to tell her it was open-air. When she finally found her voice, she said, “What are you two doing here?”

  Evan smiled his most charming smile. “Well, the girls told us what they were up to, and we thought it sounded like a fun time.” He looked around and nodded his approval. “This Verona place is pretty nice. Huh? Typical Italian city with typical Italian stuff.”

  “You don’t even know what Verona is famous for,” she said under her breath.

  “Don’t be silly. I do,” Vidal said, fluffing her mane of impressive hair. “It’s where Romeo and Juliet was filmed.”

  Bea put a hand in front of her face, clearly stifling a laugh. “Oh yeah? Are you a big Shakespeare fan?”

  She nodded. “Huge. I love Hamilton. I went to see it on Broadway with some girlfriends, and I’ve watched it like, a thousand times on Disney.” To everyone’s horror, she started to rap the first few lines. A few people on the street actually turned to look at her as she jerked and spit into her hand, probably thinking she was in the midst of a seizure.

  Even Evan seemed embarrassed for her, because he cut in. “Well, how about dinner?”

  “One moment,” Diana said, grabbing her daughters’ sleeves and dragging them to the side, underneath the marquis for the theater. When she got them there, she whispered, “What in the world were you thinking?”

  Bea frowned. “I’m sorry, Mom. We both are. We tried to lose him. We did. We only told him where we were going right before we were about to leave. We never thought they’d follow us.”

  Lily nodded. “But then they rented a car and showed up here! Can you believe it?” She looked over her shoulder at them. “I think Vidal put him up to it. I swear, that witch has got something up her sleeve.”

  Bea snorted. “She doesn’t wear sleeves. Or any clothes at all, really.” Then she looked back at her father and leaned in. “But Mom, I don’t know about Daddy. He’s acting kind of weird and desperate. I almost feel sorry for him, having to put up with Vidal. It’s like he’s smiling, but in the back of his mind he’s wondering what the hell he was thinking.”

  Diana dragged her hands down her face. That wasn’t her problem to solve. He’d made that bed. Now, she really was too exhausted to think. “Whatever. I’m just going to find myself a nice hotel and take a nice hot bath and decompress.”

  “Hotel?” She must’ve spoken too loudly, because Evan barged in, leaning into their circle. “No need. We just rented a huge villa right outside of town. Right, Tilly? Sleeps fourteen. There’s plenty of room for all of us.”

  Tilda looked less than thrilled. She checked her manicure. “Well, Evan, I didn’t know we’d have company. I thought you and I would—”

  “Nonsense. We’ll have plenty of alone time. The place is huge. It has a pool, a gym, and it’s supposed to be in a vineyard. Lots of room for us to spread out.” He gazed at Diana hopefully.

  Bea clapped her hands. “Perfect. Lead the way. As long as I don’t have to pay for it, I’m in.” She looked at Diana hopefully, and in those sad puppy-dog eyes, Diana could almost see the little four-year-old who needed Mommy to kiss all her bumps and bruises.

  “Yeah, Mom. We’ve hardly seen you. At least we can catch up at the villa?” Lily said.

  “Well . . .” she said, even though at this point, the idea of finding a hotel was almost less appetizing than marinating in her ex’s company. What if she couldn’t find a place? Besides, at least the girls would be there. And they were gazing at her hopefully. She hadn’t seen Bea in so long. She really wanted nothing more than to spend time with them. “I don’t want to be a thorn in your side, tagging along like that . . .” Like you’ve been.

  “Nonsense. There’s a chef there, preparing dinner as we speak. I can just add on an extra person. And I have a car. We can all squeeze in together!”

  Diana winced. The five of them, in a little Italian clown car? This was almost worse than their jaunt to Disney World years ago. And yet another dinner where Vidal would likely get drunk and insult her phone another twelve thousand times? Torture. She was about to decline when Vidal bopped forward, gazing at the poster on the side of the wall for the play.

  “Oh! A Midsummer Night’s Dream! I know that show. Isn’t that the raunchy one with all the sex? And the rockin’ soundtrack?”

  Diana exchanged glances with her daughters. Evan cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been much of a William Shakespeare fan. Never quite understood it in school.”

  Vidal rolled her eyes. “Oh, honey. You should be! He was amazing. The way he came up with those turns of phrase like that? It was like, I don’t know! Like poetry. Supposedly, he invented it.” She started to rap Hamilton again, this time with spittle flying everywhere.

  Seriously, on this Earth, there could be no worse or more cringeworthy performance.

  This time, Bea really did burst out laughing. “She is definitely throwing away her shot.”

  Diana grabbed her and led her away before Vidal could notice. “Fine. Let’s just go. Lead the way.”

  They only got a few steps before the door to the theater opened, and Detective Lucci appeared. Diana did her best to sidestep him and pretend she had no idea who he was, but he stopped right in front of her, making ignoring him impossible.

  “Signora St. James,” he said directly, not looking at any of her companions. “Did you find that note from the deceased yet?”

  “Oh, um . . . yes, I think I did find it,” She opened her purse again, rummaging around until she pulled it out, with a few more creases than it had had going in. But it was still very much in the shape of a flower, with Princess Diana written neatly upon the front. As she handed it over, she could feel the wide-eyed gazes of her family on her. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks,” he said, opening the flap and peering at it. He spun to leave, his black dress shoes squeaking underneath him, but stopped suddenly. “Remember. Stay close. You have an address yet?”

  She started to shake her head when Evan spoke up. He held up his phone. “Yes. One-twenty Via Del Pestrino. We’ve got it rented for the next three days.”

  “And after that?”

  Diana winced. “I guess I’ll have to find a hotel. But I will keep you updated.”

  She could feel the questioning looks of her family all around her, as the detective nodded. “Good,” he said, and headed to his patrol car.

  He’d hardly been gone a second when Bea and Lily asked, in unison, “What was that all about?”

  “It was nothing, really, it was—”

  “You had a note from the dead guy?” Lily said, grabbing her arm and shaking it a little. “Why did you have a note from him? That’s evidence!”

  “Mom? What did that note say?” Bea asked, latching onto her other arm and shaking it, too. She felt a little like a martini.

  “Stop,” she said, nudging them loose. “It was really nothing much at all . . .”

  “It was in the shape of a rose!” Lily said. “And now the guy’s dead. That was nothing?”

  “Di, let me try to understand something. That policeman wanting you to stay in town . . . Does all this commotion around here have something to do with you?” Evan asked, his brow wrinkled in concern, looking around at the police cars.

  Tilda let out a shrill giggle and batted her eyelashes at a couple of burly police officers at the entrance. “Oh my gawd, it does look like CSI around here!” she said, as though she’d just noticed the police cars. Then she started to sing-song, “Diana’s in trouble! Diana’s in trouble!”

  She giggled more, but no one joined in. For once, Diana didn’t mind it, because it took the attention off her. But as soon as Vidal fell silent, her daughters and Evan swung their gazes back to Diana, like a pendulum.

  Diana sighed. “Like I said, it was nothing. I met him on the train. He gave me the ticket to the show, and invited me backstage after the performance.” She paused, not wanting to go on, because a man dying in her presence was certainly not nothing. There was no way she could spin it that way.

  “Mommy. Are you saying a dashing actor invited you backstage? Like a groupie?” Bea’s cheeks were red in awe.

  “A dead actor,” she reminded her. “And no. I wasn’t a groupie. Far from it. I barely knew the man. I was—”

  “But he died before you could go back there, huh?” Evan asked, crossing his arms.

  Diana winced. What is he trying to be, my babysitter? Maybe he should babysit Vidal before she breaks out rapping again. But as goofy as Evan could be, he had a way of asking the revealing questions.

  “Not exactly.” They were still all staring at her, expectant, so she decided to just get it over with. Rip off the Band-aid. “He died in the dressing room while I was there. The police think there might be foul play, that he might have been poisoned.”

  “Poisoned?” everyone said in unison.

 

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