Revenge.
Gabriel quickly rejected the notion that he was being targeted for revenge. Yes, he’d offended his share of people over time, including disgruntled students and jealous colleagues. And no doubt his face had been plastered on more than one woman’s dartboard, although he had been discreet with his liaisons and had tried to restrict them to women who understood the temporary nature of their connection.
There was Professor Singer, for example. But she was in Toronto and he doubted she’d hired a professional thief from Italy and asked him to leave a death threat in his house. That wasn’t her style. Professor Singer would deliver any and all threats personally.
And there was Paulina. But she was happily married and living in Minnesota. They’d made peace and he believed she wished him well. Again, she had no cause for revenge, at least not now.
As for the thief’s possible connection to Italy and perhaps to Florence, Gabriel couldn’t imagine what he’d done to attract the ire of a Florentine. He’d been a lover of Italian history, literature, and culture for years and had supported the museums of Florence with generous donations.
Nicholas Cassirer’s parents had sold him the Botticelli illustrations. But they were reproductions of Botticelli’s originals, likely done by one of his students. Perhaps there had been other interested parties who would know now that Gabriel was the successful buyer. But to come after him now, after so many years, seemed unthinkable.
A piece of the puzzle was missing. Without it, he couldn’t see the whole picture. Without it, he couldn’t be sure of the thief’s motives for anything. All Gabriel had were theories and hypotheses, several of which might fit.
He turned around and jogged back toward the hotel.
The best possible outcome was that the thief was scoping out Gabriel’s collection and that the sculpture had been dropped accidentally. If the motive were revenge, and if Gabriel truly was the target, the thief could have killed him inside the house and Julianne wouldn’t have been able to stop him. As it was, the thief had used only enough force to get away. He’d seemed entirely uninterested in Julianne and Clare, and for that Gabriel thanked God and would continue to do so.
What if he returns?
This was the question that plagued Gabriel—and in addition to it, the possibility that the thief would return while Julianne and Clare were in the house and Gabriel was in Scotland. That possibility was the stuff of night terrors.
Julianne’s nemesis had a name and a face. Thanks to Nicholas Cassirer, Gabriel had a man following and reporting Simon Talbot’s every move.
Gabriel’s new nemesis was nameless, unidentifiable, and amorphous. His motives were indecipherable, his actions confusing, which made him far more threatening.
The new nemesis provided one more reason why Julianne should demand to go to Scotland in the fall. Gabriel still had the email he’d drafted to the University of Edinburgh. In less than a minute, he could decline the invitation and ensure that he and his family remained safe and together.
As he ascended the staircase to the hotel pool, Gabriel recalled Katherine’s warning.
Although he valued his career and would be sorry to throw it away, it was better to risk a career than the safety of his wife and child. He’d already lost one daughter, long ago. He wasn’t about to lose another.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Did you ever read Treasure Island?” Julia was sitting on the edge of the pool, her legs suspended in the water.
“Years ago. Why?” Gabriel stood in the shallow end, swirling Clare in circles and dipping her in and out of the water. She seemed to enjoy it.
“Someone gives Billy Bones the black spot. It’s a pirate death threat.”
Gabriel wrinkled his nose. “Yes, I remember.”
“Do you think the memento mori is a black spot?”
Gabriel looked over his shoulders, as if he were worried someone was eavesdropping. He walked over to Julia. “No. If the thief meant to kill me, he could have. I’m inclined to believe he dropped the carving accidentally.”
“Accidentally?” Julia lifted her eyebrows behind her sunglasses. “Why would he be carrying a museum piece in his pocket?”
Gabriel spun Clare around quickly and she giggled. “Perhaps it was a token he took from another robbery. Perhaps he thinks of it as a good-luck charm, like a rabbit’s foot.”
“Perhaps he’s a fan of the Grateful Dead. He’s a Deadhead.” Julia tried to keep a straight face, and failed.
Gabriel gave her a withering look. “Very funny. Why would he issue a death threat and leave, when he could have finished the job?”
Julia shivered and took a large drink of her virgin margarita. “I don’t know.”
“If it were an assassination, he would have done the job and left. There’s no reason to leave threats. I think Nicholas is correct; the thief wanted to know what we had in the house, so he could report the contents to potential buyers.”
“Right.” Julia adjusted her large, floppy sunhat. “Should I put more sunscreen on Clare?”
“In a minute.” Gabriel continued moving Clare in and out of the water. She banged her fists on Gabriel’s chest, almost as if she were demanding he move faster.
“What about you, Professor?” Julia admired his fit upper body and lean, muscled arms. And the tattoos on his chest. Dante and Beatrice were emblazoned on his skin for the world to see, as were the dragon and Maia’s name.
“I put some on before. After we see to Clare, perhaps you could help with my back.” Gabriel stared at Julia’s legs as they moved underwater. “How is your ankle?”
“Perfectly fine. But I’m worried about reinjuring it.”
“And your other leg?” Gabriel had lowered his voice.
She lifted her right leg out of the water. “It bothered me on the airplane. But since we’ve been here, it’s felt better. I hadn’t even noticed it until you mentioned it.”
“Hmmm,” said Gabriel. “Do you think it’s improving?”
“It’s better than it was at Thanksgiving.” She lowered her leg below the water. “What about the carving you sent to Vitali? Are we going to give it to the Cambridge police?”
“No. So far it hasn’t shown up on Interpol’s list of missing works of art, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t stolen. I’ve asked Vitali to make inquiries and see if he can find out who owns it.”
“Whoever owns it will want it back.”
“Then let him go and get it.” Gabriel gave her a challenging look.
Julia lifted her hands, still holding her margarita. “Won’t we get in trouble with the police for withholding it?”