“Italy, once again,” Gabriel muttered.
“I have to say, the calling card changes my assessment.”
“In what way?”
“It makes the invasion appear personal. If the memento mori was left intentionally, it could be a warning. A death threat. Is there anyone, besides the ex-boyfriend, who would want to harm you?”
“No,” Gabriel answered quickly. “No one.”
“You haven’t offended someone with powerful connections? Someone in the art world?”
“No. I’m a professor. I live the life of an academic. The only people I offend are those who are ignorant of Dante.”
“But that has to be a small group and, as you know, academics rarely if ever hire professionals to break into houses and examine artwork. My advice is to upgrade your security system. I will call the team that worked on my parents’ house and ask them to visit you in America, as a personal favor.”
Whatever his suspicions about Nicholas Cassirer’s connections, Gabriel wasn’t about to turn down such a generous offer.
“Thank you.” Gabriel accepted quickly. “It’s close to Christmas. When do you think they will be available?”
“I’ll have them on a plane tonight.”
“I appreciate it.” Gabriel found his voice unusually gruff. “If there’s anything I can do, just ask.”
“I’m sorry this happened. I’ll call my contact at the security company now. He’ll be in touch.”
“Thank you.”
“And, Gabriel? I’d recommend sending your memento mori to the Uffizi as soon as possible. It may be the clue you’re looking for.”
“I will. Thank you.” Gabriel disconnected and exited the bathroom.
He sat in an armchair and tapped his cell phone against his chin, thinking.
Nicholas had given him much to ponder, particularly the possibility that there was a connection between the break-in and the exhibit at the Uffizi.
Again, Gabriel was puzzled that the intruder hadn’t taken anything. Almost all the artwork was on the ground floor, which meant the thief could have broken in, retrieved several pieces, and departed without alerting anyone of his presence.
The thief must have been looking for something—either something specific or making an inventory of the household. If it was something specific, he probably hadn’t found it, or else he would have taken it. If he was taking an inventory, he intended to return.
If the intruder had broken into the house simply to terrorize them, he’d have done so. As it was, he’d used little violence, no weapons beyond his fists, and had left Julianne and Clare untouched. However, the memento mori could be interpreted as a threat. And it was a threat directed at him, since the piece was left on his side of the bed.
Gabriel wondered whether the intruder’s rules of engagement were self-imposed, or imposed by someone who had sent him.
The Professor didn’t have answers to these questions, but his gifted intellect continued to examine everything over and over again, until he finally tumbled into bed after sunrise, exhausted.
Chapter Forty-Ei
ght
December 22, 2012
Zermatt, Switzerland
Simon Talbot exited his chalet at the CERVO resort, slipping on his gloves. He was meeting friends and family for drinks in the lounge après-ski.
He’d taken no more than two steps outside the door when something hit him, hard. He went flying backward into the snow.
“My God!” someone cried in German. “I’m sorry. Let me help you.” A large man, dressed in ski clothes, reached out his hand. He hefted a dazed Simon to his feet, chattering his apologies.