Vampire - Deep Midnight Part 38

"No! I didn't take any trips to Oz!"

Raphael stared at her blankly.

"I'm telling you, I didn't imagine anything."

Raphael flashed his mini-light around the corners of the church. There was nothing to be seen anywhere. Not even a rat scurried across the floor.

"You saw Ragnor."

"Yes."

"In front of you?"

"At the door."

"And he walked up to you and hit you on the head?"

"I-no!" she murmured, confused herself for a moment She had seen Ragnor, yes. He had been shouting at her, hadn't he? Telling her to come to him. And she had thrown something at him ... a hymnal.

"I don't know."

The church was very dark, and more deeply shadowed than ever with Raphael's little mini-light flashing around. He shivered.

"Let's get out of here."

"Wait, one second!" she whispered. She walked back to the altar, running her fingers over it. "Raphael, she was here! There's not a speck of dust on this altar. Look at this place-if something hadn't been there, there would be dust!"

"We'll get the police," Raphael said. Maybe Roberto Capo would be back in the station at last Whether they mocked her or not, she had to tell them what she had seen.

"All right. But we're not leaving this area. Things- change around here, far too quickly."

He nodded, "We'll call from the public phone down the calle. But Jordan, please, let's get out of here."

They started down the aisle-two rational human beings, walking at a steady gait She sped up a little to catch up with him. He hurried more; she sped up again. They were running by the time they reached the door and burst out upon the steps.

Jordan nearly tripped. She would have done so, and sprawled right down on to the fountain if Raphael hadn't been there to catch her.

He kept her arm as they came down the steps and studied her gravely.

"I didn't come running out and trip and wind up knocked out by the fountain," she told him firmly.

"Let me see your head," he told her, touching her temple.

"Not there! On the back of my head. How could I have stumbled forward and hit myself on the back of my head?" she demanded.

He shrugged. "We'll call the police."

"Make sure you get the right station, and ask for Roberto Capo."

They walked to the edge of the campo where there was an enclosed public phone.

Raphael called the operator, then frowned.

"Which is the station you want?"

"Near the Danieli! I'm a tourist, I don't know the address. You should know!"

"I'm a law-abiding citizen. I never call the police."

"Roberto is your friend! You should know."

He swore softly in Italian. "Si, si, I have the number." He rattled off something to the operator; she put him through. He spoke for a minute, then covered the mouthpiece. "Capo won't be in today; he has a fever."

She could hear someone speaking into the phone. Raphael winced. "Alfredo Manetti is on the line."

Jordan threw up her hands. Convincing him of anything was impossible. She'd have to deliver her own head on a silver platter for him to believe that something was really wrong.

Raphael started speaking. He talked a long time.

He gave Jordan a number of sideways glances, and talked some more.

He hung up. "They are coming," he told her. "Come on, we'll get you a drink-"

"I don't want a drink; no alcohol."

"You may have a concussion, yet? Big b.u.mp, bruise on the bone. No alcohol; you're right. But a cafe or te-we'll probably have a few minutes to wait. I told him that no, it wasn't exactly an emergency. No one is in danger at the moment."

Jordan wondered if that was true. Looking around the campo, she shivered. She heard no hisses, whispers or wings. The shadows stretched long in the night, but they weren't moving.

Still, she felt as if they were being watched. As if evil eyes looked out at them from the darkness.

"Coffee will be fine," she murmured.

They walked back to the trattoria. The same kind host met them. Before Jordan knew it, Raphael explained that she'd had an accident. The host's mother was there, and brought ice cubes and cold water and hot tea. She wanted Jordan's feet propped up. She was so kind and considerate that Jordan felt guilty.

It occurred to her to ask Raphael how he had come to be there. He seemed baffled.

"You called."

"I called?"

"You called the shop and left me a message."

She shook her head. "I never called the shop."

"Well, someone did. I didn't take the call. Lynn answered and wrote down the message.

I think she was jealous that you asked me to come, maybe, and not her."

"But I didn't call!"

A moment later, Alfredo Manetti arrived at the trattoria. He came over to the corner table where Jordan and Raphael sat, waiting. He pulled a chair out, straddled it and leaned on the back of it as he stared at the two of them.

"All right, now, Miss Riley. Tell me what happened."

She sat straight, pulling the ice bag from the back of her head and facing him squarely.

"I received a note from Tiff Henley. Remember, I told you she was missing? And you promised to check on her."

Manetti nodded. "Go on."

"Her note left an address and asked me to meet her. The concierge gave me the directions. I followed them. I couldn't quite find the place, but a lady in the street told me it had to be the church. When I got there, there were candles burning. I saw something on the altar and walked up to it What I saw was Tiff- playing a cruel joke on me, I thought.

But I tried to get her to get up-and saw that she had been decapitated."

Manetti was just staring at her. He studied her coldly. "But the body has disappeared?"

he said.

"The body was there-have your men check. There isn't a speck of dust on the altar.

And you know, if you do what I suggested before-use Luminal-that's l-u-m-i-n-a-l, in English-at least, you may find out that there are little spatters of blood around, undetectable to the naked eye, especially in the shadows of such a place."

"Are you insulting the Italian police, Miss Riley?"

"No, I'm merely challenging your personal investigative techniques."

He appeared a bit amused. But then he said, "You're certain that you saw Tiffany Henley?"

"Absolutely."

"Strange."

"Why?"

"Well, because when I told you that I would investigate her disappearance, I did so.

Mrs. Henley left Venice on an Alitalia flight to Paris Sat.u.r.day at eleven A.M."

Jordan felt as if a wave of ice water washed over her.

"That's impossible." "She purchased the ticket herself at the airport; the clerk remembers her."

"Then she came back!" Jordan whispered, but the words sounded false to her own ears.

She leaned forward again. "Will you please check out the church?"

He nodded gravely and stared at Raphael. "What did you see?" he asked sharply.

Raphael stuttered. He didn't want to let her down. "Well, there was no body when I arrived."

"And what were you doing at a boarded-up building?" Manetti asked him.

"Jordan called-"

"I didn't call."

"Someone claiming to be Jordan called me and asked me to meet her there."

Manetti nodded again. He seemed to be sympathetic.

Bull! Jordan thought.

"So ... you get a call, you arrive, and Miss Riley is unconscious by the fountain."

"Si," Raphael murmured unhappily.

"But you seem fine now, Miss Riley."

"There is a b.u.mp on the back of my head."

"Maybe we should get you to the hospital."

"No."

"But perhaps you have done injury to yourself, causing illusions."

"I am not having illusions."

"Come. We will retrace what happened."

They left the trattoria and walked back to the church. Manetti had brought other officers with him, and they were in the church. Large police lights now illuminated dark corners. The place did not appear sinister at all. Artwork was gone from the side chapels, and there was nothing above the main altar.

"There were other things here," Jordan murmured.

"They are gone now, too," Manetti said.

Jordan threw up her hands. "You have no intention of believing a thing I say, or really checking into the matter."

"On the contrary," Manetti said with a deep sigh. "You'll notice I have six officers in here. I made a point of going to the airport when I discovered that Mrs. Henley was not at her palazzo. Now, we have looked and looked ... but as you see, there is nothing but dust."

Jordan strode angrily to the altar. She wiped her hands over it "As you'll note, there is no dust here!"

"And the one thing my men did find was a crumb-filled food bag, Miss Riley. Someone has probably slept on the altar. With so many poor foreigners in Venice, this place was probably used as a shelter."

At that moment, Jordan realized that there was nothing she could say or do that would convince this man that she had really seen Tiff Henley dead.

And decapitated.