“We can’t,” I said, my face in her hair.
“Stay with me,” she said, moving her neck so I could kiss it again.
“I have to know what’s going on there tonight.”
“No, stay,” she said, kissing me. “What we would do. That’s what you said.” She pulled me closer until I knew she could feel me against her, already hard. “A party. And then you didn’t come up?” Moving now, pressing into me.
“Is that what we would do?” I said, kissing her again.
“Yes,” she said, her hands on me, holding me. “Don’t you want to?”
All evening, every sense working up to it. Spurting blood. The bundled tarp splashing into the dark water. My mother’s dressing room, warm with powder. The white skin at the back of her neck.
“The hotel clerk will say we were together,” she said.
“Claudia-”
“I know, I know. How can we do this? After. And I still want to. I want to,” she said, her breath on my face again.
“I can’t stay all night,” I said, my voice sliding away, skidding. “I have to get back. We have to be careful.”
“Yes, careful. A little while then.” She pressed her face against my coat. “Before they come.”
“Nobody’s going to come.”
My mother was still up when I got back, coiled in a chair near the space heater, a full ashtray on her lap.
“You’re a sight,” she said, raising her eyebrows, as if she could see through the rumpled jacket, the loose collar, to the rest of me, still sticky.
I stood in the doorway to the sitting room, surprised to see Inspector Cavallini on the couch. At this hour his presence was beyond the call of any duty. Was he waiting for me, the body already found, questions raised?
“I thought someone should be here,” he said, answering whatever he saw in my face. “So Signora Miller would not be alone.” Courtly to women, a man who visited Maestre. A brandy snifter was on the table near the couch.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” I said. “Any news?”
“Nothing,” my mother said. “Something terrible’s happened.”
“Signora, we don’t know that,” he said gently.
“Of course it has. What else could it be? What’s awful is not to know.”
Cavallini looked at me with an open palm of resignation. “I’ve sent a man to Dr. Maglione’s house. He will call if-”
“He comes home? He won’t. Something’s happened,” my mother said.
“No word at the hospitals? Anywhere?”
“No. So a great mystery. But, let us hope, with a simple explanation. The best thing now would be to sleep,” he said, turning to my mother.
“Sleep,” she said. Her face was pale but not splotched with tears, just in retreat, her eyes distant, the way they had been after my father died, days of it, not crying, away by herself. “I don’t see what we’re waiting for. Why can’t you trace his movements? He left the house, we know that. For Mimi’s. Unless he forgot and came here.”
“No, I was here. Until we went to Mimi’s.”
“But darling, I called. There was no one here.”
Inspector Cavallini looked up from his brandy.
“Oh, that was you?” I said quickly. “Somebody called, but I didn’t answer.”
“Darling, you might have picked up. It rang and rang. I mean, even in the shower-”
“I was busy,” I said, my voice a little clipped, nervous.
But Inspector Cavallini took it for embarrassment, his eyes amused over the glass.
“Busy?” my mother said.
“Signorina Grassini was here as well, perhaps?” Cavallini said.
“Yes.”
“Well, I still don’t-oh, darling.” She stopped, flustered. “Really.”
“Getting ready for the ball,” Cavallini said, having fun with it.
“Yes. Anyway, he didn’t come here.”
“Well, he must have gone somewhere,” my mother said. “Somebody must have seen him. You have to ask.”
“Signora, at three in the morning who should I ask?” Cavallini said. “You understand, my hands are tied in this. What is there to investigate? We tell everyone to listen for the accidents, a sickness, but that’s all we can do. It is not a crime to miss a party. Even such a party.”
“What do I do?” my mother said. “Officially. Do I fill out a form?”
“Not tonight,” Cavallini said, putting his empty brandy glass on the table. “Tomorrow I will make more inquiries. So we see. And you, signora, please, some rest. If I need you to help me.”
“Help? How?”
“You are his fiancee, yes? So who knows him better?”
“Yes,” my mother said vaguely.
“Till tomorrow, then,” he said, taking my mother’s hand. “Make yourself easy.”
“Thank you. I’ve kept you so late.”
He made a small “it’s nothing” gesture.
“I’ll see you out,” I said, leading him to the stairs.
“You have some pills for her? To sleep? Tomorrow will not be pleasant.”
“What do you mean?” I said. We were walking down the stairs, then through the hallway where Gianni and I had fought. Without thinking, I glanced up at one of the sconces, as if it might be dripping blood, but everything was in shadow, kept dim by night-lights.
“She’s right. A man like that-why would he run away? He wouldn’t. So why is he missing?” He left it open, a question that answered itself.
“Let’s hope not,” I said, opening the door for him, reaching up to the old handle, then quickly dropping my hand, moving the raw knuckles behind me.
“Yes, we can hope. Meanwhile, some sleep, I think. You too.” He turned in the doorway. “The maid? She doesn’t answer the phone?”
My hand went farther back, as if it were moving on its own.
“Yes. Oh, you mean tonight. They all went to Mimi’s to help.”
“So you were alone in the house.”
“Well, not alone.”
“I meant you and Signorina Grassini.”
“Yes, why?”
“I’m sorry to ask before, in front of your mother. I know how it is. An opportunity, yes? How do you say, the mice play when the cat’s away?”
“Yes.”
He shook his head, amused, then patted my arm. “To be such an age.”
I leaned against the door after I’d locked it, looking down the hall, my forehead sweaty. One slip was all it took. I needed to go through everything tomorrow with Claudia. Exact times. When she had left her hotel, how long it had taken to get here. The rest was safe, playing while the cat was away.
“You don’t have to wait up,” my mother said.
“He’s right, you know. There’s nothing we can do tonight. You should get some sleep.”
“I know. I just want to sit for a bit.” She was picking at her gown, the black velvet skirt now flecked with ash. “I’m frightened.”
“I know.”
“He could be hurt. Dead.”
“Yes.”
She looked up. “Well, that’s a change anyway. Cavallini-the man’s impossible. Every time I say something, he
