Page 37 of Chasing Caine
“Get off the wall!” I yelled, eliciting a small yelp from Umberto. “What do you think this is? A public park for your little picnic?”
The intruders all shot up, looking at each other, spilling food and drink.
All except one, who raised his bottle to us in salute. “Who are you, the police?” He spoke with a slight accent. New York, perhaps?
“No,” Samantha said, her pitch low and tone commanding. “But they’re on their way.”
“Calm down,” said the sitting young man. “We aren’t damaging anything.”
“Yes, you are,” said Umberto in impeccable English, raising his voice as he stepped next to me. “This is a sensitive area. Sitting on that wall can cause pieces to break off. The paintings here haven’t been preserved yet. They’re fragile.”
The punk dumped his chips on the ground as he stood, gaze lingering on Umberto before shifting to me, egging us on. “This place sucks anyway.”
The group traipsed out together, dumping more chips and soda as they left. Flipping fingers to the four of us.
Umberto rushed to the garden wall, collecting flakes of black fresco which had fallen to the ground where the group sat. “This is why there’s a barrier,” he mumbled.
Mario knelt next to him, helping.
I slid close to Samantha. “You don’t think someone like them would be behind the theft? Perhaps it was simple vandalism?”
It was a reasonable question. They’d damaged the garden walls without realizing it, but she shook her head and beckoned me to follow to the Mars room.
Once there, she pointed to the edge around where the fresco had been for almost two thousand years. “There are smooth cut marks. The flowers were removed with a professional tool. Intentionally. People like them are more likely to chip something off an edge or pry up some mosaic tiles with their keys.”
“True.”
We turned as Umberto and Mario joined us.
She gestured to the Mars wall, where the flowers had once been. “Umberto, Mario told us you hadn’t heard anything about the missing section of the wall painting?”
He shook his head, moving closer to the wall with a soft, almost reverent look.
She continued, “No one mentioned anything at the lab about removing it for some additional tests or conservation? Maybe checking something with the pigments?”
“No, I—” He spun on his heel and pointed at me. “Wait, I forgot! I was giving my girlfriend a tour yesterday afternoon and, since she’s an artist, she wanted to see the pigment pots in the lab.”
No, no, no. I had to change the subject. But to what? “Where did you say she worked?”
He paused for half a breath only, and said, “We found some were missing. She wasn’t happy.”
Mario nodded. “Sì, Bianca told us on Friday.”
Marone. I could almost hear the cogs grinding in Samantha’s brain. Why hadn’t I told Mario to keep his mouth shut?
“Missing pigment pots?” Her gaze lingered for a moment on Umberto, then shifted to me. She blinked several times while Umberto said something to Mario. But all I heard was Samantha’s flat tone of disappointment. “You didn’t mention that.”
“I didn’t think it was important.”
Mario mumbled, “Important enough for the Carabinieri to come by on the weekend.”
Her head turned slowly to Mario. “That’s why you interrupted us?”
He grimaced. “Iamsorry about that.”
“So…” She stepped closer to the wall. “On Friday, you two find out that a special piece of equipment is missing and some pigments were taken from the lab. Saturday, the police talk to you. Sunday, you discover a fresco’s been stolen from your worksite. Does that sum it up?”
Umberto asked Mario, “You heard about the pigments Friday?”