“It’s a deal,” Tony Rizzoli said. He thought, Maybe you’re not so smart. You smuggle one load of heroin and you’re hooked, Costa baby. There’s no way I will ever let you go. Aloud, he repeated, “Sure, it’s a deal.”
On the way back to the hotel, Tony Rizzoli was exultant. Jackpot. The narcs would never dream of touching Constantin Demiris’s fleet. Christ, from now on I can load up every ship of his that sails out of here. The money will roll in. Horse and antiques—sorry, Victor, he laughed aloud—antiquities.
Rizzoli went to a public telephone booth on Stadiou Avenue and made two calls. The first was to Pete Lucca in Palermo.
“You can get your two gorillas out of here, Pete, and put them back in the zoo where they belong. The stuff’s ready to move. It’s going by ship.”
“Are you sure the package is safe?”
Rizzoli laughed. “It’s safer than the Bank of England. I’ll tell you about it when I see you. And I have more good news. From now on we’re going to be able to make a shipment every week.”
“That’s wonderful, Tony. I always knew I could count on you.”
The hell you did, you bastard.
The second call was to Spyros Lambrou. “It went fine. Your brother-in-law and I are going into business together.”
“Congratulations. I’m delighted to hear it, Mr. Rizzoli.”
When Spyros Lambrou replaced the receiver, he smiled. The narcotics squad will be too.
Constantin Demiris stayed in his office past midnight, sitting at his desk, contemplating his new problem. He had avenged himself against Noelle Page, and now she was returning from the grave to haunt him. He reached inside a desk drawer and took out a framed photograph of Noelle. Hello, bitch. God, she was beautiful! So you think you’re going to destroy me. Well, we’ll see. We’ll see.
Chapter Fifteen
st. Moritz was an enchantment. There were miles of downhill ski runs, hiking trails, bobsled and sleigh rides, polo tournaments, and a dozen other activities. Curled around a sparkling lake in the Engadine Valley six thousand feet high on the southern slope of the Alps, between Celerina and Piz Nair, the little village made Catherine gasp with delight.
Catherine and Kirk Reynolds checked into the fabled Palace Hotel. The lobby was filled with tourists from a dozen countries.
Kirk Reynolds said to the reception clerk, “A reservation for Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds,” and Catherine looked away. I should have put on a wedding ring. She was sure everyone in the lobby was staring at her, knowing what she was doing.
“Yes, Mr. Reynolds. Suite two-fifteen.” The clerk handed a bellboy the key, and the bellboy said, “Right this way, please.”
They were escorted to a lovely suite, simply furnished, with a spectacular view of the mountains from each window.
When the bellboy left, Kirk Reynolds took Catherine in his arms. “I can’t tell you how happy you’ve made me, darling.”
“I hope I will,” Catherine replied. “I…It’s been a long time, Kirk.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t rush you.”
He’s so dear, Catherine thought, but how would he feel about me if I told him about my past? She had never mentioned Larry to him, or the murder trial, or any of the terrible things that had happened to her. She wanted to feel close to him, to confide in him, but something held her back.
“I’d better unpack,” Catherine said.
She unpacked slowly—too slowly—and suddenly realized that she was stalling, afraid to finish what she was doing because she was afraid of what was going to happen next.
From the other room she heard Kirk calling, “Catherine…”
Oh, my God, he’s going to say let’s get undressed and go to bed. Catherine swallowed and said in a small voice, “Yes?”
“Why don’t we go outside and look around?”
Catherine went limp with relief. “That’s a wonderful idea,” she said enthusiastically. What’s the matter with me? I’m in one of the most romantic places on earth, with an attractive man who loves me, and I’m panicky.
Reynolds was looking at her strangely. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” Catherine said brightly. “Just fine.”
“You look worried.”
“No. I…I was thinking about—about skiing. It’s supposed to be dangerous.”