Page 107 of Chasing Caine
I marched up to Eva’s door and knocked, casting a backward glance at the room Jason was in. No noise in that direction, but the sound of footsteps and a quiet voice inside Eva’s. She creaked open the door, a phone plastered to her ear. She smiled politely and ushered me in.
“Sorry, I have to go.” She took a half-step into the hallway, looking to the left and right, then snapped the door shut. “I have company. Talk to you later.”
The apartment was small, its origin as a hotel room evident. Beyond the tight entryway with wall-mounted coat rack, there was a queen-sized bed with deep blue sheets against the left wall. In the narrow space between the foot of the bed and the opposite wall, a desk with a laptop and shelving above.
A four-foot square painting hung above the bed, a pastoral scene reminiscent of a John Constable.
Next to the bed, a small table, then kitchenette, then a door leading to a tiny bathroom.
The whole place could have fit inside the bedroom of our suite.
“Eva, I’m not sure if you remember me, but—”
“Samantha, right?” She swallowed hard and crossed to the fridge, pulled out two plastic bottles with sparkling water and held one up to me. “You and your boyfriend had concerns about Umberto.”
I took the offered bottle but didn’t open it. My plan hadn’t included her letting me in so easily. The intention was to be professional, express my continued concern, provide some empathy. This was almost too easy. “Did you ever hear from him?”
She leaned against the sink and let out an ironic laugh. “I heard from the police, that’s for sure.”
“So you know what he did?”
“Yeah, I do.” She nodded slowly, opening her bottle, the fizz hissing out. “Some jackass officer came by my office. Almost got me fired.”
“Not Carabiniere Fredo De Rosa, by any chance?”
She pointed at me and nodded. “I imagine he grilled Dr. Ferraro, didn’t he?”
“He did.”
“The officer used to work in Rome. I guess there was some fuss about the Ferraro studio and a stolen painting after my time there.” She took a sip. “He suggested my being tied to people at the sites of two thefts was incriminating.”
That sounded like De Rosa. Even more suspicious than me. But what was that about a stolen painting at the Rome studio?
“Were you able to give him any information? Ideas on where Umberto might have gone or anyone who might have been working with him?”
“You know, moving here with him isn’t turning out quite the way I planned.” She stared at her bottle, fiddling with the label. There was more she wanted to say but seemed to be battling with herself. Should I wait and see if it came out or urge her forward with my own theories?
My phone buzzed in my pocket, the distinctive pattern I’d set for calls from Antonio. Then the buzz of a text from him. It was like the night of our fallout at his parents’ house all over again. He’d called over and over that night and I declined every one. At least today, I’d answered the call from the cab. And then completely ignored his warning.
“Everything alright?” Eva asked.
“I talked to Océane Monet last night. She was—”
Her lips tightened. “Obsessed with my boyfriend?”
“She said you two went out for coffee one time?”
“Yes, and all she talked about was Umberto.” She sighed, her shoulders falling. “Since the project in Pompeii was delayed, she suggested the three of us go to Rome. She wanted to see the sights and thought we’d be good tour guides since we live there.”
Océane had told us she’d invited Eva. Told her to dump Umberto and go to Rome, just the two of them. Miscommunication or… one of them was lying.
Eva returned to picking at the label on her bottle. “I think they might have had something going on. I know we haven’t been here long, but he brought me to a get-together with his new team and it was like Umberto and Océane already knew each other.”
“Knew each other how?”
She shook her head and turned toward the sink, wiping at her cheeks. This was going in an unexpected direction and she was rapidly shutting down.
Back to step one I’d learned in my insurance job: Build rapport. Get your interviewee comfortable, then navigate to the harder questions. I pointed at the painting over the bed. “Did that come with the room, or did you do it?”