Enemy Mine

Chapter 75

The Santa Cristina Inn waited for us at the end of a long country road, and Adamo took the opportunity to tutor me on the treacherous terrain of the Veneto region in winter. All through my safety awareness lesson, Stan rubbed his knee against my leg. I felt like smacking him, but rather than piss off a gollum who didn't currently want to kill me, I just ignored him and crammed closer to the window.

Adamo's popularity appeared to have no limits, as our party was greeted enthusiastically by the manager of the inn; a middle-aged man with thick black hair and a cavernous cleft in his chin. Dario, the delivery driver, was there too, having been summoned by Adamo earlier in the day. He could not have been more than eighteen years old, and he did not look so excited to see Adamo as the manager escorted the group of us around the corner to an empty employee lounge.

"Let us get down to important matters," Adamo began as he assumed a regal pose at the head of a folding table. "We have a missing comrade. His last known whereabouts was heading to this inn yesterday evening to pick up a wedding dress for his bride-to-be." He flourished a wave in my direction, forcing me to acknowledge the two men with a smile I didn't mean. "Our friend never made it to his destination, and we believe there is treachery at work."

When Adamo turned his gaze on the delivery driver, the man appeared to be holding in the contents of his stomach, just barely. "What is your name?"

"Dario, signore."

"Tell us what you discussed with the couple you met yesterday in the hotel lobby, Dario. Did you get their names?"

"No names, but they said they were friends of the bride, Signorina Kentwell, and they wished to play a joke on her. They asked me to tell the signorina the roads were not passable and her dress could not be delivered. Then they told me to leave the dress in the safe behind the desk."

Adamo turned again to the manager, whose face had taken on the pallor of a plucked chicken. "And were you here when this conversation took place?"

"Si, signore, but I was not part of the conversation. I only did as I was asked. I locked the dress in the safe."

"And is the dress still in the safe?" I asked.

The manager's eyes widened and he directed those fearful eyes at me. "Eh, no. It is not. About two hours later, the woman returned. She told me the joke was a mistake and that Signorina Kentwell was very upset by it. The woman said she would take the dress to her in Verona."

"Did you ask for the woman's name?" I pressed as I felt my own stomach contents swirl.

"No, but we recognized each other from earlier, so I just assumed..."

"Could you identify the woman from a picture?" Boris said, taking out his cellphone and tapping the screen.

"Si." The manager walked up to Boris and looked over his shoulder, nodding his head as he looked at a photo Boris pulled up. "That is the woman, signore."

"And what about the man standing to her left in this photograph?" Boris said. "Do you recognize him?"

"Si. Si." The manager waved Dario over. "Come look, Dario. Is this not the man you spoke to?"

Dario appeared to be losing his composure as he timidly walked over and confirmed everyone's suspicions. "Si. It is them."

Boris held out his phone, showing me a photograph of the members of the Bourdain domus standing in front of a photography screen.

"You gave Deidra Bourdain my wedding dress," I said, feeling the blood drain from my face at the sheer irony of it.

"I am very sorry, signorina," said the manager. "I should have asked for identification. I should have tried to contact you. We will make this right." He glared at Dario as if to blame him for everything.