Stone Barrington 06-11

sculpture does not make threats. Or had she made threats? Was there anything in her words that could be used against her? He admitted there was not. What was he going to do? How could he get this woman off his back? More important, how could he get her off his back without grievously offending her father, whom he did not want for an enemy?
    He parked in front of the bungalow and, finding it locked, used his key. On Betty’s desk there was a note, stuck to a package.
    “I’ve taken your advice, lover; I’m on a late afternoon plane. I’ll call you in a couple of days to see how you’re making out. A girl from the pool will be in tomorrow morning to do for you, although she probably won’t do for you as I do. Take care of yourself.”
    He turned to the package, which was an overnight air envelope with a Rome return address. He opened it, and two sheets of paper fell out. The top one was a heavy sheet of cream-colored writing paper. Stone read the handwritten letter:
    The Vatican
    Rome
    Dear Stone,
    I have made the investigations I told you I would, speaking personally to the mayor of Venice. I have concluded that you and Dolce are legally married in Italy, and that the proper documents, which you both signed, have been duly registered. The marriage would be considered valid anywhere in the world.
    I know this was not the news you wanted. I would offer advice on an annulment, but you are not a Catholic, and, you surely understand, I cannot offer advice on divorce.
    You remain in my thoughts and prayers. If there is any other help I can give you, please let me know.

    Warmly,
    Bellini

    Stone looked at the other piece of paper. It was printed in Italian, bore his and Dolce’s names, and appeared to be a certificate of marriage.
    “Oh, shit,” he said.

Thirty-nine

    S TONE CALLED DINO. “DO YOU REMEMBER TELLING ME, on the way to Italy, that there would be two marriage ceremonies, a civil one and a religious one?”
    “Sure. Why do you ask?”
    “You remember telling me that the civil ceremony wasn’t legal until the religious ceremony had been performed?”
    “Sure. Why do you ask?”
    “Where did you get that information?”
    “Which information?”
    “The information that one ceremony didn’t count without the other?”
    “I said one wouldn’t be legal, without the other. I didn’t say it wouldn’t count .”
    “Where did you get that information?”
    “From Mary Ann.”
    “Is Mary Ann an authority on Italian marital law?”
    “All women are authorities on marital law, in any country.”
    “Do you know where Mary Ann got that information?”
    “No, why?”
    “Because I want to strangle the person who gave it to her.”
    “My guess is, that would be Dolce. Good luck on strangling her without getting offed yourself. What the fuck is this about, Stone?”
    “I called Bellini to ask him about this. I just got a letter from him, along with a copy of my marriage certificate.”
    “You mean the ceremony is valid, legally?”
    “Yes.”
    Dino began giggling. “Oh, Jesus!” he managed to get out.
    “This isn’t funny, Dino. I just had lunch with Dolce, where I made it as clear as possible that I was not married to her and didn’t intend to be.”
    “Let me guess: She didn’t buy that.”
    “You could put it that way. She as much as said she’d kill me or, maybe, Arrington if I continue to deny the marriage.”
    “Well, if I were you, I’d take the threat seriously.”
    “I am taking it seriously.”
    “What’s your next move? I’m dying to hear.”
    “I haven’t the faintest idea.”
    “Want a suggestion?”
    “If it’s a serious one.”
    “First, I’d see a divorce lawyer; then I’d watch my ass. Arrington’s, too, which isn’t too much of a chore, if I correctly recall her ass.”
    “Do you have any idea what it takes to get a divorce in Italy?”
    “Nope; that’s why I suggested a divorce lawyer. Listen, pal, be thankful you didn’t get married in the Italian church. Then you’d really be in deep shit.”
    “Dino, I don’t think I ever thanked you properly.”
    “Thanked me for what?”
    “For advising me to stay away from Dolce.”
    “You didn’t take my advice; why are you thanking me?”
    “It was good advice, even if I didn’t take it.”
    “Well, I’m glad you remember; saves me from saying I told you so.”
    “I’m happy to save you the trouble.”
    “Listen, Stone, this isn’t all bad, you know?”
    “It isn’t? What’s not all bad about