“Jus,” I said, answering.
“Everything okay, Jack?” she immediately asked.
Local news had been told someone had been murdered at La Posta Vecchia but no further details had been released, so there was no way Justine could have had any idea what had happened. “There’s been a death,” I revealed, and she stayed quiet. “Matteo Ricci has been arrested for killing a priest at the Private launch party.”
“Oh, Jack,” she gasped. “That’s terrible.”
“It’s not been good,” I replied. “The poor priest was shot at close range and Matteo was found holding the gun, but he claims he’s innocent.”
“Do you believe him?”
It was a very good question.
“I don’t know. I mean, how well can a person know someone they’ve only met four times? Our interview process is designed to gauge performance, not weed out potential killers. I found him standing over the victim, holding the murder weapon, but something about it doesn’t add up. If he wanted the man dead,why shoot him at the party where there was no chance of avoiding capture?”
Justine murmured agreement.
“And there was a woman lurking around the hotel. She claimed to be a journalist but refused to give me her name.”
Justine sighed. “So, you’re not coming home?”
This was meant to be a quick in-and-out trip, five days to attend the launch, take care of the last of the paperwork involved in launching the business, and meet the investigators Matteo had chosen to form the core team as they started their training.
“I—” I began, but Justine didn’t let me get any further.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I know you can’t leave a situation like this.”
I breathed out a sigh of relief. Justine and I had been together through some turbulent times, but as Private’s chief forensic psychologist and profiler she knew the demands of the job.
“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you,” I remarked.
“You were an angel in a previous life,” she replied.
I laughed. “If you say so. Listen, can you do me a favor and ask Mo-bot to check out someone called Luna Colombo?”
Maureen “Mo-bot” Roth was Private’s head of technology. She was a world leader in digital security and data collection and management. She was also a renowned white hat hacker, someone who used their understanding of technology for good, though I suspected she was also a notorious black or at least gray hat in her free time, crossing the line into criminality when necessary.
“Luna was Matteo’s partner in Rome police. Before they took him away, he told me I had to talk to her.”
“Sounds like you’ve got the beginnings of a case,” Justine replied. “I’ll get right on it. You know what I’m going to tell you?”
“Be careful?” I guessed.
“That’s right.”
“I will,” I replied. “Love you.”
“Love you too. Speak soon.”
I hung up and continued toward the elevators. As I left the reception area and passed the lounge bar, I saw the distorted figure of a man reflected in one of the mirrors and turned to see Joseph Stadler. Like me, he still wore his tuxedo. I’d undone my bow tie in the Uber, but his was impeccably taut.
“Mr. Morgan,” he said. “I’m sorry to intrude upon you at your hotel at this hour, but I felt it imperative I see you after tonight’s terrible tragedy.”
“What can I do for you, Mr. Stadler?”
“I wanted to speak to you at La Posta Vecchia, but the police kept us all separated and I was concerned you might leave Rome quickly after such a blow,” he replied. “I know you by reputation, Mr. Morgan. You are the best private investigator there is.”
He hesitated, perhaps expecting a response, but it was too late for me to pretend to be taken in by easy praise, which from a stranger is sometimes a sign of attempted manipulation.
