—

Well,” Hedy said when they were on coffee, “I must say, Stone, there’s never a dull moment being with you.”

“I try to keep things interesting,” he replied.

“And I’ve gotten half a new wardrobe out of it, as well. What’s next?”

“Only time can tell.”

The woman of the couple at the next table, much younger than her companion, got up and headed toward the ladies’ room.

“Excuse me,” the man said to Stone. He was in his sixties, Stone reckoned, suntanned, well-barbered, and dressed in elegant resort clothing. “I couldn’t help noticing your car this afternoon.” His English was lightly accented, with overtones of New York.

“It was noticeable, wasn’t it?” Stone admitted.

The man offered his hand. “My name is Leonardo Casselli.”

“I’m Stone Barrington.” He shook the hand and found it soft but strong. “This is Hedy Kiesler. Your name has a familiar ring. Where might I have heard it?”

“Apparently, you read New York’s trashier newspapers,” Casselli said.

“Ah, Leo Casselli.”

“Americans tend toward diminutives,” he said. “Please call me Leonardo.”

Leo Casselli had been known in New York as a Mafia don for many years, until he either fled to Italy or was deported, Stone didn’t remember which. “As you wish,” he said.

“I know your name, too,” Casselli said.

“I’m surprised,” Stone said.

“We had a mutual, ah, acquaintance in the late Eduardo Bianchi.”

That did not surprise Stone, since (1) his good friend Eduardo had had a wide circle of acquaintances, and (2) his circle had included some of the Italian-American demimonde. “A lovely man,” Stone said.

“He was that,” Casselli agreed, “to those he liked and respected. To others, well . . .”

“Like most of us.” Stone wondered to which group Casselli had belonged.

The young woman returned to the table, and Casselli rose before she could sit down.

“You must excuse us,” Casselli said, “we have another engagement. It was interesting to meet you. And your car.”

“Good evening to you,” Stone replied.

“Perhaps the car was a warning,” Casselli said. “Perhaps you should heed it.” Then, without another word, he left.

8

Stone and Heddy went back to their suite; Stone called Dino.

“So,” Dino said, “is your Italian adventure improving?”

Stone had to think about that for a minute.

“Hello?”

“Sort of,” Stone was finally able to say.

“Define ‘sort of.’”

“Well, we got most of our stuff back.”

“The Italian cops caught the thieves?”

“No, the thieves returned the car, with our stuff still inside it.”

“Well, that’s a win-win, isn’t it?”

“Not exactly.”

“Why not?”

“The car was a total loss—the thieves set it on fire. In front of our hotel.”

“Did you report that to the police?”

“We didn’t have to, they turned up almost immediately. Their big action was to revise the police report to exclude the items returned.”

“Okay,” Dino said. “That makes sense. Anything else?”

“Nothing. They ventured no information on the thieves or their motive.”

“I see,” Dino said, clearly not seeing.

“Something else, though: at dinner I found myself sitting next to Leo Casselli.”

“Casselli? He got deported, didn’t he?”

“Deported to Italy. He may have self-deported, I don’t remember.”

“And how did you come to be seated next to him?”

“Luck of the draw, I guess. He was there with a very young lady.”

“And did you and Casselli converse?”

“We did. He pointed out that we had a mutual acquaintance in Eduardo Bianchi.”

“I’m not entirely surprised that he knew Eduardo. I’ll bet they hadn’t spoken for forty years.”

“I didn’t ask, but if I see him again, I will.”

“What makes you think you’ll see him again?”

“He expressed an interest in my burned-out car—or rather, in Marcel duBois’s burned-out car. He said that maybe it was a warning, and that maybe I should heed it.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Funny, that’s what I said to myself.”

“Are you mixed up in something Casselli is interested in?”

“I don’t know, but I’m here for a board meeting, which was about buying a partially built hotel that we could turn into a new Arrington. That was at midday yesterday. Then yesterday evening the structure burned down.”

“Uh-oh.”

“You said that before.”

“Sounds like you and Casselli have a common interest.”

“Not in the sense that we are partners.”

“Casselli may not see it that way.”

“I thought he was retired.”

“He’s retired from America, although he may still have hidden assets here, but he could still be active in Italy. I’ll check into that.”

“Good idea.”

“When are you going back to Rome?”

“Marcel is sending a car for us tomorrow afternoon. We should be back later in the day.”

“Let me talk to a couple of people, and I’ll get back to you late tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“And in the meantime, try not to piss off any mafiosi, will you?”

“I haven’t been trying.” They hung up.

—

What was that all about?” Hedy asked.

“I’m not sure. Dino is going to make some calls and get back to me tomorrow.”

“Tell me who Dino is, if you haven’t already.”

“He’s the police commissioner of New York City.”

“And you know him how?”

“I used to be a cop, and Dino and I were partners.”

“And you keep in touch?”

“We’re sort of best friends.”

“That must be very convenient for you.”

“Sometimes.”

“Is Dino how we got our stuff back?”

“I don’t think so. Apparently, there’s something going on that I didn’t know about. I’m going to have to have a serious talk with my partner, Marcel, when we get back to Rome.”

9

The following morning they took the little electric vehicle and roamed the vertically stacked streets of Positano, doing a little light shopping for Hedy. They checked out of Le Sirenuse at one o’clock, and there was a Mercedes with a driver waiting for them. Stone got a better look at the Amalfi Coast with somebody else driving, and he enjoyed the experience, until they got onto the autostrada, when the driver spoke up.

“Mr. Barrington,” he said, “is there any reason somebody would be following you?”

“None that I’m aware of.”

“There’s a black Lancia sedan three cars back,” the man said. “It’s been behind us since we left your hotel.”

Stone looked back and saw the car; two men occupied the front seat.

“How fast are we going?”

“A hundred and thirty kilometers an hour.”

“Let’s see what happens at a hundred and sixty.”

The Mercedes accelerated. “He’s keeping pace with us,” the driver said.

“What’s going on?” Hedy asked.

“Somebody appears to be tailing us.”

“Are we in any danger?”

“I don’t think so, they’re keeping well back.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“So do I.” Stone put his head back and dozed off.

—

When he woke up they were in Rome. “Do you want to go to your apartment or come with me?” he asked Hedy.

“I spoke to the rental agent while you were asleep, and I asked the driver to drop me there. Let me get sorted out, and I’ll come to you later.”

“I’d like that—you’re good company.”