Worst Fears Realized

family member I ever had any real contact with was a great-aunt, on my mother’s side, who, when she died, was kind enough to leave me her house in Turtle Bay.”
    “This is an honorable background,” she said, “except for that business about Communism. But many good people were hoodwinked into joining in the thirties, I suppose.”
    “He never regretted holding Communist views. He regretted what the Party turned out to be.” Stone looked at her narrowly. “Why do I get the feeling that I’m being interviewed for some position?”
    “Perhaps you are, but not the one you are thinking of. I am a Catholic, and my father is adevout Catholic; I’m allowed only one husband.”
    “Somehow, I can’t imagine you with a husband,”
    “Neither could my husband, after we’d been married a while.”

    “So what position am I being interviewed for?”
    “I haven’t decided,” she said. “Why haven’t you asked me any questions about my family?”
    “I told you, I’m psychic; I already know what I need to.”
    “You mustn’t joke about such things with an Italian girl; we take them seriously.”
    “I will always know more about you than you will want me to know,” Stone said, and he hoped she would believe it, even if it weren’t true. He thought he saw a tiny flicker of fear in her eyes.
    “Please,” she said.
    They finished their first course, and Stone took their entrée, a crown roast of lamb, from the hot box under the table. Stone tasted the red wine and poured it.
    “It’s not Italian,” she said, sniffing her glass.
    “It’s a California wine, perhaps made by Italians; it’s called Far Niente.”
    “Dolce far niente,” she said. “Sweet nothings.” She sipped it. “It’s delicious, and it’s not even Italian.”
    “Does everything have to be Italian?”
    “Not everything, but Papa believes that Italy is the most important country in the world, even though we have been here for four generations. He tends to think of anything not Italian as slight, of little weight.”
    “Do you feel the same way?”
    “I am more American, but I understand his feelings.”
    “There is nothing Italian about me; what does your father think about that?”
    “You are not wine or food or art or architecture.”

    “I’m not Catholic, either.”
    “He is not so concerned about that. In a strange way, he feels the family is protected by my divorce.”
    “Widowhood would free you, would it not?”
    She smiled a little. “You are clever. The only reason my former husband is still alive is that my father does not want me to be free to marry again.”
    “I see.”
    “Why did you telephone today?”
    “Your father gave me the number, in case I needed his help.”
    “And now you do?”
    “Yes.”
    “Does Dino know?”
    “Dino doesn’t want to know.”
    “Your call was precipitated by the incident of last evening?”
    “Yes.”
    “And where is the beautiful painter?”
    “She has returned to her native England. She will not be back.”
    “Are you sad?”
    “Less so than I was this morning.”
    “What help do you want from my father?”
    “You know that this Mitteldorfer has disappeared?”
    She nodded. “Papa has told me what he knows.”
    “Dino had a little flap with the captain of the guard at Sing Sing; because of that, I am unable to get any information from the prison that might help me find him. That, and the fact that Mitteldorfer managed the financial assets of the captain and thewarden, and they are, shall we say, kindly disposed toward him.”
    “You want information from the prison?”
    “Yes. There must have been prisoners who were close to Mitteldorfer; he was there for twelve years. Perhaps one or more of them might know something about his plans after he left prison.”
    “This can be done,” she said. “It will take a few days, perhaps a week. Do you think you can stay alive that long?”
    “I’ll do my best.”
    “We seem to have finished our business and our dinner,” she said. “Can we go back to bed, now?”
    “We haven’t had dessert.”
    “I’ll give you dessert,” she said.

38
    STONE WOKE AROUND SEVEN, HAVING NOThad much sleep, and found Dolce gone. There was a note on the dresser: “Thank you for an interesting evening. Let me know when you need more information, or another interesting evening. Dolce.” Her phone numbers, office and home, were below.
    Stone ordered some breakfast and read theTimes . Again, he saw the theatrical advertisement