Strangers in Venice Read online

  “Have you talked with him, Karolina?” she asked.

  “Yes,” she said, the tremble still in her voice.

  “Well, you’re German. Does he sound German to you?”

  Mr. Bast sounded like an Englishman to Karolina. She got no hint that he was from her country. Stella went over it in her mind. Mavis was from Dublin and she could always tell where a fellow Irishman was from by their accent. It didn’t take three words before she knew.

  “Mr. Bast in the book was from Hertfordshire, wasn’t he?” she asked.

  Rosa didn’t try to speak. She only nodded and a tear rolled down her cheek.

  “Try not to worry. I don’t think he’s German,” said Stella. “I don’t hear it in his voice or the way he speaks. More importantly, neither do you.”

  “But what if you are wrong?” asked Karolina.

  “I’m not,” said Stella confidently. “I don’t know who he is, but if he was here trying to catch you or me, what would be the point in hanging about and waiting. We’re here. He’s seen us.”

  Karolina relaxed, leaning on the bed and breathing out before kissing Rosa’s cheek. “Then who is he?”

  “I don’t know, but if he was going to do something, I think he would’ve done it by now,” said Stella.

  “Then we don’t need to worry.”

  Stella agreed, but there was every reason to worry, for her anyway. She thought about how he was always around her, smiling and asking questions. “I almost forgot. I have good news to temper this situation with Mr. Bast.”

  “You went to the doctor?” Karolina squeezed Rosa’s hand.

  “I did and he will come tomorrow as soon as he has time.”

  She rushed over to Stella, pulling her into her bosom. “Thank you. Thank you. Not that we aren’t grateful for everything Dr. Davide has done for us.”

  “I understand. A second opinion is a good idea,” said Stella when she managed to escape Karolina’s happy embrace. “Can I still borrow a book?”

  “Yes, yes. What do you want? More by the American, Fitzgerald?”

  “I think not.” Stella plucked a book off the shelf and accepted more hugs before going back to their room.

  Nicky was up, stiffly pacing back and forth. “That took a while.”

  “You know how ladies are,” she said. “Lie down. This is crazy. You’ll make it worse.”

  “I won’t. It’s not even bleeding anymore. Besides, I was bored. Did you get me Howard’s End?”

  Stella handed him the tome she picked out.

  “Ivanhoe?”

  She kissed his cheek. “For my white knight.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  THE NEXT MORNING Stella stepped out of the little oval bathtub and exfoliated herself with her rough towel. With her skin red and still hot from the bath, she dried her hair as much as she could and combed it into waves. There wasn’t a hairdryer and that would have to do.

  She tossed everything back into her sponge bag and hurried back to the room in an effort to get out before Nicky woke up. She wasn’t too concerned. It was early and she didn’t expect him to stir for at least another hour.

  She was very wrong on that score. She opened the door to the room and there was Nicky dressed, combed, and dapper in his Italian clothes, but not looking remotely Italian. No amount of clothing could manage that.

  “What in the world?” she asked.

  “You think you’re so smart,” he said, “but I’m on to you.”

  “On to me?” Stella tossed her sponge bag on the chair and went to pick out a dress. “Go back to bed. I’ll bring you breakfast.”

  “Not a chance. I’m going with you today.”

  She peeked around the wardrobe door to see if he was serious. He was.

  “You’re going to walk to a bunch of telegraph offices?”

  “And the luggage store. Don’t forget the luggage store.”

  “I haven’t.” She chose a blue dress that brought out the color of her eyes and slipped it on. “Do you imagine that you’re going to carry that luggage back?”

  “I might at that,” he said while chasing around his new shoes with his toes, unable to bend over to put them on.

  “Right. I’m sure that will happen.”

  “Are you being mean to me?” he asked with a twinkle in his eyes. “A man who was shot and has heroically gotten out of bed to escort you around town.”

  “How about you heroically bend over and put on your shoes, all by yourself?” asked Stella, twinkling herself.

  “You are mean.”

  “And I’m right. You can’t be running around. You can barely be walking.”

  “I’m going,” said Nicky, the bulldog look back, full force.

  “You’ll slow me down.”

  He got a shoe on, not tied mind you, but it was on. “I’m going to slow you down? Your feet look worse than my rear.”

  Her hands went automatically to her hips. “Show it to me and we’ll see about that.”

  “No.”

  “That’s what I thought,” said Stella. “You’re staying here.”

  He chased his other shoe around. “That’s not happening. Accept it.”

  The tone of his voice said she had no hope of winning an argument and it wasn’t like she could force him back into bed. Even with a bullet wound, he’d win that fight.

  “So what’s your plan, gimpy?”

  “That’s Mr. Gimpy to you, Mrs. Gimpy,” said Nicky. “My plan is breakfast and then a water taxi.”

  “Breakfast? We don’t have time for breakfast.”

  “We’re injured and we have to eat.” He stared down at his feet and tried to lift his foot, which looked as painful as bending over.

  Stella stopped him and tied his shoes. “You’re only doing this so you can watch me.”

  “I want you to get on that train and I’ll do whatever it takes. Now when do they start breakfast in this joint?”

  “Seven I think, but I can’t go.” She pointed at her head. “Wet hair.”

  “Not a problem. You got wet in the rain.”

  “Before breakfast?” said Stella. “I don’t think so and, besides, it’s finally domani.”

  He limped to the window. “I can’t believe it. The sun. I see the sun coming up.”

  “It’s a sign.”

  “We don’t believe in signs.”

  “Why not?” she asked. “We believe in luck.”

  Nicky looked back out the window. “You believe in luck. I believe in getting out of here while we still can.”

  “We will.”

  “You didn’t happen to buy a watch, did you?” he asked.

  “Sorry.”

  “Add that to the list today. But first, breakfast.”

  “Now we have to buy a watch?” groaned Stella. “We really can’t do breakfast.”

  “We can and will.” He slipped his jacket on and buttoned it. “Not bad. Not bad at all. Do I look Italian?”

  “Northern Italian, as in mostly Swiss.”

  “I’ll take it. Get dressed. I’m starving.”

  Stella couldn’t figure out how to escape the room without him so she complied and finished getting dressed. When they walked down to the breakfast room, she was shocked at how late it was. Nearly seven. She really did need a watch.

  “Good morning,” called out Mr. Bast from his usual table, typewriter in place with stacks of paper all around. “Mr. Myna, it’s good to see you up and about. Better, I take it.”

  “Yes, very. It must’ve been the cholera-like illness the doctor spoke of.” Nicky was all ease and friendliness, but Stella couldn’t breathe. She hadn’t given Mr. Bast another thought since she put his name and details together with Howard’s End and had simply hoped never to see him again. Why was he always up? Always there?

  “Mrs. Myna, are you feeling well yourself?” asked Mr. Bast.

  “Oh, yes. I’m just surprised to see you here so early. Sofia’s not even serving breakfast yet.”

  On cue, Sofia hustle
d in with a large pot of coffee. “I will have breakfast in a moment.” She pulled out a chair for Nicky. “Please, Mr. Myna, you should be resting.”

  Nicky limped over and winced as he sat. Sofia said nothing, but Mr. Bast was watching closely.

  “You’re limping, Mr. Myna. Have you had an accident?”

  “I…” Nicky trailed off and Stella quickly picked up the sentence, “fell. When he was getting sick he fell and hurt his leg pretty bad.”

  It might’ve been Stella’s imagination, but she could’ve sworn a hint of a smile flickered below Mr. Bast’s mustache and it annoyed her. She got a couple of coffee cups and asked offhandedly, “How’s your book coming?”

  “Very well indeed,” he said.

  She gave Nicky a cup and then walked over. “May I?” Without waiting for permission, she picked up a stack of paper and began reading about Museo Correr. It read like a travel book and a good one, at that.

  “What do you think, Mrs. Myna?”

  “Very good.” She picked up another stack and read a chapter on the five synagogues in the Cannaregio. He seemed like a travel writer. He even had ink stains on his fingers and the manuscript wasn’t fake. Mr. Bast had sections on Borano, Murano, the Doge’s Palace, rail travel, water taxis, and hotels. It wasn’t fake, but what about that name. It was fake without a doubt. She wanted to ask him right then and there, but Nicky didn’t know. It would only upset him. If she’d mentioned it last night, they’d probably be on a train at that very moment.

  Mr. Bast’s eyes crinkled. “Something you’d like to ask me, Mrs. Myna?”

  “How did you get started in the business? Are your parents writers?”

  He seemed vaguely disappointed, but went on to spin a tail about traveling as a youth and having no interest in staying put in Hertfordshire. Stella felt sure he mentioned that name for her benefit. The way he looked at her when he said it, like he was testing her, gauging her response in some way.

  Sofia brought back a breakfast of phenomenal proportions, saying that a man recovering from a bad illness needed very much food. They had eggs cooked in spicy tomato sauce, hunks of thick peasant bread, and pastry after pastry. Nicky’s eyes began to droop and Stella got her hopes up. But then Nicky casually said to Sofia, “We will be checking out today. When is checkout time?”

  “Eleven,” said Sofia.

  Nicky tapped his long fingers on his cup. “I don’t think we’ll be back in time. We’ll have to check out this morning before we go.”

  Stella glanced at Mr. Bast, who was pouring over a map. If he was surprised, he didn’t show it.

  “We have to come back,” said Stella. “We have to pack.”

  “Sofia,” said Nicky, giving their host a broad smile. “I’d like to be on that train we discussed, is there any way you could pack for us?”

  “Douglas,” said Stella. “That’s not her job and we don’t have luggage yet.”

  “We’ll have it sent here immediately.” His gaze was flinty. He meant to have her on that train. “I will be happy to pay you for your time and effort, Sofia. I’ve been so ill. I really want to see a little of Venice and then head straight home. You understand.”

  Sofia nodded with a sharp glance at Stella. “Yes, I do. You’ve had a terrible time and I regret that our city wasn’t at its best for you.”

  Nicky laughed. “More reason to come back.” He stood up with hardly a wince and held out his hand to Stella. “Time to shop.”

  She took it reluctantly. For the first time in her life, she didn’t want to shop. “Yes. All right.”

  “So you’re going,” said Mr. Bast, getting his bulk out of the chair. He shook hands with Nicky and then took Stella’s hand. “I’m sad to see you go. I suspect that your travels are more interesting than most. Perhaps you could’ve given me a few tips.” His eyes bored into hers.

  “I seriously doubt that,” she said, her heart starting to pound in her chest. “You’re a professional.”

  “I am, indeed,” he said. “Some would say the best.”

  “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Leonard Bast.”

  That elicited a smile, so big his mustache went into his nose showing his yellowed teeth that were crooked all the way round. “I’m sure we’ll meet again, Mrs. Myna.”

  “It’s a big world, Mr. Bast,” she said. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

  He kissed her hand and said in a low voice, “I would and you should.”

  Stella didn’t know if that was a threat or a promise. Maybe a little of both. Either way, she got out of there in a hurry and hustled Nicky down the hall at his top speed.

  “What was that about?” asked Nicky.

  “I think he has a crush on me.”

  “He’s not the only one,” he said with a grin.

  A half an hour later, they were climbing into a water taxi at the hotel’s little dock and marveling at the sunshine.

  “It’s a whole different city,” said Nicky.

  “Everything’s been washed clean and it makes me want to stay,” said Stella with her most charming smile.

  “You would want to stay if it looked like the Newark port.”

  “What’s wrong with Newark’s port?”

  “Put it this way, I’m surprised I haven’t gotten cholera just by walking through it.”

  “Nice.”

  “Some of the dock workers look like they bite and have rabies.”

  Stella stifled a laugh and then smacked his arm. “You’re trying to distract me, you skunk.”

  The captain gestured for them to go into the small cabin, but Nicky indicated that he’d rather stand. The captain shrugged and said, “You go…?”

  “Rialto,” said Nicky.

  “First?” asked Stella.

  “I’m going to buy you a watch.”

  “We need luggage.”

  “That, too.”

  The captain pulled away from the dock and Stella had to twist around and grab onto the wind screen. As they pulled away, she caught a glimpse of a face peering out a small window at them. Mr. Leonard Bast. Her stomach flipped and she got weak-kneed all the sudden.

  “Are you all right?” asked Nicky.

  “Fine. Just afraid we won’t find them.”

  He hugged her close. “I’ve made my peace with that. We tried. Abel would never ask for more. He wouldn’t have asked for this much.”

  “I haven’t given up.”

  “Believe me I know.”

  “I’m going to win our bet.”

  He groaned and hugged her tighter. “I know you think so and I hate for you to be disappointed.”

  Stella said nothing and, instead, enjoyed the beauty of Venice that was now totally different with blue skies. The pinks, greens, and even the grey buildings look brighter, happier. The Grand Canal teemed with boats and the vaporettos were packed with passengers. It was a new day and a new city.

  “It feels weird not to have an umbrella,” said Stella.

  “Pretty soon you’ll have real shoes on.”

  She looked down at the galoshes and found that she was sort of attached to them, ugly though they were. “I’m keeping them.”

  “What for?”

  “You never know.”

  The taxi cut his engine and they glided up to a dock next to a gondola stand that already had a line of tourists waiting. The water was still over the edge of the canal and a couple of inches deep on the walkway, but no one seemed to mind. Nicky paid the captain and helped Stella out. He was limping slightly, but it was getting better the more he moved.

  “This way,” he said. “I think Sofia’s luggage shop is on the other side of the canal.”

  They worked their way through the crowds and found the shop at the foot of the bridge. It wasn’t open yet, so Nicky insisted on coffee. A long coffee. Then another. Stella was about to jump out of her skin. They had so much to do.

  Finally, she dragged a protesting Nicky out of the cafe and into the shop. He started touching all the pieces, comparing leather qualit
y and grain. Stella kept picking sets and he kept shaking his head. Before she knew it, it was ten o’clock.

  “Buy the brown set,” she said.

  He stepped back. “Dark or light?”

  “Either one. I don’t care.”

  “Light will show less dings, but the dark is more attractive.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Just pick one.”

  Since when did Nicky care about luggage? His own luggage for their honeymoon looked like it had been dropped off a truck and then run over. His mother tried to make him buy a new set, but he refused.

  “It matters. We’re going to have this stuff for a long time.”

  “Are we? Fine. Get the light. It’s prettier.”

  He nodded. “The light. Matching straps or contrasting?”

  It was everything Stella could do not to yell. “Matching.”

  “Are you—”

  “Yes. Get matching.”

  “All right. All right. Keep your hair on,” said Nicky. “How many pieces do you think?”

  Stella stomped her foot, radiating pain up her leg. “We only need two each.”

  “Two? We can’t buy only two. It’s a set.”

  In the end, Stella agreed because she feared they’d never get out of there if she didn’t. They got suitcases, trunks, and hatboxes. Twelve pieces in all. They hadn’t come to Europe with so much luggage and her mother had been packing for every contingency, except the one that actually happened.

  “What are we going to do with all this luggage? What I bought can’t fill half of it.”

  “Think of it as our souvenir.” Nicky took her hand and rubbed where her rings should’ve been. “We’re leaving this continent with less than we came with.”

  She sighed and agreed to go get watches next, if he hurried. He didn’t.

  “I remember a shop down a little alley.” Nicky led the way and they found the shop and little was right. It was only slightly larger than their hotel room, but had a nice selection of new and used watches. Stella quickly found a used Cortébert watch that was a bargain, but Nicky puttered about trying on practically every watch they had.

  “Hurry up,” she said.

  “I am.”