"I'm going to have to miss our tour of the museums today, Nina. Something's come up that I need to deal with."
His body language was stiff, telling me he was unhappy about whatever the problem was. I wanted to cry my disappointment was so great. All my fantasies about showing him my knowledge of the art world disappeared in a heartbeat, wrecked by another of his phone calls.
I tried not to pout, but my efforts weren't very successful and I lowered my gaze to look at my shoes so perfect for walking around Venice. He walked toward me and lifted my chin with his forefinger. Looking down into my face, he wore an expression of disappointment mixed with something else. I just couldn't put my finger on what that something else was.
Anger? Disgust?
"I'm sorry. I wanted to go with you, but it's important I take care of this."
I bit my lip and tried to control my tongue so I didn't make his situation even worse. "I know. I just so wanted to show you..." I let my sentence trail off. My desire to impress him sounded silly now.
"I want you to still go. One of my men will escort you, so go wherever you want."
"I don't need an escort. You roamed around Venice all by yourself when you were sixteen. I'm sure I can handle myself."
He shook his head definitively. "No. One of my men will be with you, if you choose to go."
There was no arguing the point, so I didn't. I wouldn't have Tristan, but I'd have a shadow. "I guess one of your guys will be okay," I mumbled.
Placing a kiss on my forehead, he whispered, "I promise I'll make it up to you."
"You better. I'm thinking The Louvre might be the only thing that could make this better."
"It's a date," he said and flashed me a smile that made it next to impossible to be angry with him.
Whatever the problem was, it required him to leave immediately, but within ten minutes my escort arrived. Nearly as tall as Tristan, Jared was much bigger, like bouncer-at-a-club bigger. I guessed he had little appreciation for art. After trying twice to strike up a conversation as we stood there in the living room of the suite, I surmised he had little appreciation for talking too.
"Well, Jared, it's nice to meet you. My name is Nina. I guess you're going with me to visit some museums today."
My giant shadow nodded once and said, "As you wish, ma'am."
Ma'am. Oh, I was sure I wasn't going to enjoy my time with him.
After visiting two museums, I had all but forgotten about Jared and immersed myself in the works of art at the Ca’Rezzonico museum. The landscape painting exhibition on the first floor took my breath away. I stood staring at paintings showing eighteenth century Venice as it truly had been back then, mesmerized at how similar so many things in the city still were. Yet the paintings showed a different Venice in many ways, and I was taken back to those days I'd studied about in school, finally feeling like I was experiencing them for myself as I studied those pictures that hung on the walls.
I moved through the floor wishing Tristan was at my side so I could tell him about all the wonderful history of landscape painting in Venice. A touch of sadness came over me, but I pushed it out of my mind, reminding myself that while Tristan had given me time off from my job for this trip, no one had given him any.
Lost in thought about landscape painting, I didn't see the man next to me until he spoke. Surprised, I jumped and turned to look at the stranger. "Excuse me? I didn't hear what you said."
"I said it's beautiful, isn't it?"
"It is." I continued to look at the man, surprised by his American accent. "You're an American?"
He nodded. "Yes, I am. It's nice to meet another person from back home."
I studied his face as I tried to determine his age. The corners of his eyes were wrinkled slightly, but his face was tanned, giving him a glow that made me think he might be in his thirties. His hair had streaks of grey at the temples, leading me to believe he might be older, though.
"Where are you from?" I asked, thinking I picked up a Midwest accent.
"Minnesota. Land of ten thousand lakes."
"That's a lot of lakes," I joked.
"Beautiful country there. Where are you from?" he asked as he studied my face, likely to ascertain the answers I'd sought a minute earlier.
"Pennsylvania. We don't have that many lakes."
The man extended his hand and introduced himself as Derek. I smiled and said, "It's nice to meet you, Derek. I'm Nina."
"I used to know someone from Pennsylvania with a daughter named Nina. His name was Joseph. I met him on assignment years ago."
"Assignment? What did he do?"
"He was an investigative journalist."
"Do you remember his last name?" I asked excitedly, amazed at the idea that I might be talking to someone who'd known my father.
"Edwards. His name was Joseph Edwards."
"Oh, my God! That was my father!"
"He was a good man. Great writer," Derek said in a solemn voice, using the past tense, which told me he knew about my father's death.
"It's so wonderful to hear that. He loved what he did."
"He did. I remember him talking about you too. You were the apple of his eye. His little artist is what he called you, if I remember correctly."
I beamed at Derek's memory, loving that my father had spoken about me like that. "I haven't heard that in so long. I miss hearing him call me that."
Derek's eyes narrowed. "I think it's a shame they never charged the people responsible."
My heart slammed against my chest at Derek's implication. The police had repeatedly told my sister and me that all the leads had gone cold, but it sounded like he was saying someone knew who'd murdered my father. "Do you know anything about that?"
"Ma'am, it's time we got going."
I turned to see Jared ready to do his best escort impression. "I'll be ready in a minute. I'm talking right now."
My shadow looked around and then back at me. "Ma'am, I think he left."
Jared was right. Derek was nowhere in sight. I took off to find him, but it was like he'd vanished. I searched all four floors, but I never found him. As Jared escorted me back to the hotel, the man's claim echoed in my head.
Someone knew who had murdered my father.
I left Jared behind in the lobby and raced up to the room to get my head together. I needed a cool drink and some time to think about what Derek had said. The idea that the people responsible for my father's death still roamed free while he lay cold in the ground tore at me. I'd never believed what the police told us, but without any proof, all I had was my gut feeling that what they knew about the case was only the tip of the iceberg.