Last to Die: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

the distance, beyond impenetrably dark waters, loomed the Evensong building. Lily had referred to it as
the castle
, and that was exactly what it looked like, mounted on barren granite. Constructed of that same gray rock, the walls rose up as though thrust from the hill itself.
    They drove under a stone arch into the courtyard, and Maura parked her Lexus beside a moss-covered wall. Only an hour ago, the day had been summery, but when she stepped out the air felt cold anddamp. Looking up at towering granite walls, at the steeply sloping roof, she imagined bats circling the turret high overhead.
    “Don’t worry about your suitcase,” said Lily, taking it out of the Lexus trunk. “We’ll just leave it here on the steps, and Mr. Roman will bring it up to your room.”
    “Where are all the students?”
    “Most of the students and staff have left for summer break. We’re down to only two dozen kids and a skeleton crew who stay year-round. And next week you and Julian will find it really quiet around here, because we’ll be taking the rest of the kids on a field trip to Quebec. Let me give you a quick tour, then I’ll bring you to see Julian. He’s in class right now.”
    “How is he doing?” Maura asked.
    “Oh, he’s really blossomed since he got here! He’s still not crazy about classroom work, but he’s resourceful, and he notices things that everyone else misses. And he’s protective of the younger kids, always watching out for them. A true Guardian personality.” Lily paused. “It did take him a while to trust us, though. You can understand that, after what he went through in Wyoming.”
    Yes, Maura did understand. Because she and Julian had lived through it together, both of them fighting for their lives, not knowing whom to trust.
    “And you, Lily?” Maura asked. “How are you doing?”
    “I’m right where I should be. Living in this beautiful place. Teaching these amazing kids.”
    “Julian told me you built a Roman catapult in class.”
    “Yes, during our unit on siege warfare. The students really got into that one. Broke a window, unfortunately.”
    They climbed stone steps and came to a doorway so tall it could have admitted a giant. Lily punched in the security code again. The massive wooden door swung open easily with just a push, and they stepped across the threshold into a hall where soaring archways were framed in old timbers. Hanging overhead was an iron chandelier, andset in the arch above it, like a multicolored eye, was a circular stained-glass window. On this gloomy afternoon, it admitted only a faintly muddy glow.
    Maura stopped at the foot of a massive stairway and admired the tapestry hanging on the wall, a faded image of two unicorns resting in a bower of vines and fruit trees. “This really
is
a castle,” she said.
    “Built around 1835 by a megalomaniac named Cyril Magnus.” Lily gave a disgusted shake of the head. “He was a railroad baron, big-game hunter, art collector, and all-around mean bastard, according to most accounts. This was built as his private castle. Designed in the Gothic style that he admired during his trips to Europe. The granite was quarried fifty miles from here. The timbers are good old Maine oak. When Evensong purchased this property thirty years ago, it was still in pretty good shape, so most of what you see here is original. Over the years, Cyril Magnus kept adding to the building, which makes it a little confusing to navigate. Don’t be surprised if you get lost.”
    “That tapestry,” said Maura, pointing to the weaving of the unicorns. “It actually
looks
medieval.”
    “It is. It comes from Anthony’s villa in Florence.”
    Maura had seen the treasure trove of sixteenth-century paintings and Venetian furniture that Sansone kept in his Beacon Hill residence. She had no doubt that his villa in Florence would be as grand as this building, and the art even more impressive. But these were not the warm, honey-hued walls of Tuscany; here the gray stone radiated a chill that even a sunny day would not dispel.
    “Have you been there yet?” Lily asked. “To his home in Florence?”
    “I haven’t been invited,” said Maura.
Unlike you, obviously
.
    Lily gave her a thoughtful look. “I’m sure it’s only a matter of time,” she said, and turned toward what looked like a paneled wall. She pushed against one of the panels; it swung open to reveal a doorway. “This is the passage to the library.”
    “Are you trying to hide the