So, Nicoletta and Charles were high school sweethearts.
Then I saw something that made me sit up straighter.
Four years ago. Right before the woman died. A picture of Charles and Nicoletta on a beach in a tropical location. The woman had written: My greatest wish is for these two to finally marry and make me a grandma. I now realize I won’t be around for it, but they have both promised to make this a reality so I can finally die in peace.”
I leaned back against the van wall. Holy fuck.
There was so much to take in about this revelation.
Charles and Nicoletta.
Were a thing. But Charles had been with Oliver Hollingsworth.
And he and Nicoletta seemed just fine.
Sure, there was a chance they’d parted ways amicably, and Nicoletta gave her blessing to his relationship with Oliver, but I somehow doubted it. If Charles had recently come out of the closet, would he be with Oliver or some other hot young guy? Maybe. I just didn’t know.
It seemed more likely that Charles was fucking Oliver for his money.
I decided the first thing to do after I took a nap would be to do some reconnaissance on Charles and Nicoletta.
I crawled into the sleeping bag and closed my eyes. When I opened them again the sun was setting. Shit. So much for a quick nap.
I dug through the duffel bag that Tony had left in the corner. I pulled on a thick, military-style wool turtleneck, a thick wool pea coat, and black stocking cap. I pulled these on, tucking my hair inside the hat and pulling the jacket collar up around my neck.
I was pretty sure I looked like a dude. Perfect. Then I got behind the wheel and started the van, grateful as heat began to pour out the vents. I’d stop and get a huge cup of coffee at an out-of-the-way gas station and then head to the address I’d found for Nicoletta.
Thirty-Seven
The gas station clerk probably thought I was going to rob him when I walked in, because between the black stocking cap, big sunglasses, and my coat collar pulled up to my cheekbones, I was obviously trying to disguise my face.
But I didn’t want any cameras to be able to identify me.
If someone had the tech savvy to create a Deepfake video of me, who knows if they were able to tap into facial recognition software on the underground network of cameras filming through the city.
Armed with a large coffee and some snacks, I headed toward Nicoletta’s place in the Richmond District for my stakeout. It was now dark. There was a chance it would be a bust. She might have turned in for the night, and I’d stare at her house as she slept peacefully through the night. That was okay. I had to do something. I would go crazy if I didn’t at least feel like I was trying to figure it all out.
I parked across the street from the apartment building and then approached the door. Nobody was around. I scanned the names on the doorbells. N. Marchese. Bingo. But it didn’t say what floor or apartment number. This might be more of a fool’s errand than I realized.
After I crossed the street and was about to get back in the van, I scanned the bank of windows facing the street. Then I walked further down to look at the side of the building. It appeared the apartments ran the length of the building from front to back. As I was standing there, a cab pulled up in front of the building. I shrank into the shadows.
It was a young man who stumbled out of the cab and loudly thanked the driver. Then he was inside, and the street was quiet again.
Back in the van, I took a chance and kept it running to keep the heat on. A thick bank of fog had rolled in and hovered just above the street lights, making the temperature drop dramatically. Even with the pea coat and heater on, I was cold.
I was yawning and sipping the last dregs of my coffee when another car pulled up.
A strawberry blonde wearing a fur coat stepped out.
Nicoletta.
Quickly, she stepped inside the front door.
I got out of the van so I could see which apartment window lit up.
Light turned in a window on the second floor. I could see Nicoletta shed her coat and lean over a small table.
I was about to cross the street when I noticed the car that had dropped her off was slowly rolling down the street. Fuck.
As I ducked behind the van, the car, a small black sedan, parked.
The driver got out.
Charles.
Perfect.
I watched as he walked over to the front door and let himself in with a key. I waited a beat and then quickly crossed the street. I used a credit card to pop the front door and raced up the stairs to the second floor. The second-floor hallway split the building in half. There was a door on the right and one on the left. Nicoletta’s apartment was the one on the left, so I headed toward that door as quietly as I could. The building was ancient and the wooden floors in the hall creaked loudly as I walked.
I took my time, though, and soon had my ear pressed against the door. I could only hear some sultry music—Massive Attack or something. I waited for about ten minutes and finally gave up. Outside, I looked up at her window. It was dark. Lights out.
Back in the van, I tried to stay awake, keeping my eyes on the front door. It wasn’t until just before dawn that the door opened and Charles slipped out.
