"I didn't think you'd come," she said.
"Of course I came," I exclaimed. "Why wouldn't I?"
"Because," she said, but didn't finish.
"Because you thought I set you up?"
"Maybe. I don't know what to think."
"If I wanted the hydria for myself, letting the police get it wouldn't be a very good idea would it? And if I really intended to give it to Lake, then it wouldn't be a good idea in that case, either."
"No," she said. "I really didn't think you'd set me up. It didn't make any sense. One thing I do know is that I wish I'd never seen that hydria. If I hadn't taken it, then—"
"Then I'd be in here," I said. "I'm going to tell you something. I didn't purchase the hydria. I saw it in a chateau near Vichy and tried to buy it, but the owner wouldn't sell."
"Not the man who fell into his tomb?" she said. "Did he have it?"
"Yes. It was gone when I went back to try again to purchase it. Maybe it was stolen, maybe he decided he would sell it, and someone else got it. All I know is that it wasn't there. Then it turned up in the trunk of my car in France. I got it across the border because I didn't know what else to do. I didn't know it had been stolen at the time, but I found out later when I checked the Interpol database of stolen antiquities. In any event, when I got it here, Volterra actually, the carabinieri arrived at the hotel I was staying in and started going through the trunks of cars. Then I did something really awful. I put it into a car belonging to a French dealer that I thought had been the one to put it in my car in the first place."
"Why would he do that?"
"He was annoyed I wouldn't cut him in on the purchase of an antiquity."
"But you got it back," she said.
"Yes. It showed up on the bed in my room in Arezzo. I have no idea how it got there, and I was as surprised to see it as you were when we came through the door. I was supposed to take it to the Tanella, but of course I couldn't, because you had it."
She grimaced. "You seem to have found yourself in the middle of something. We both have."
"Yes, but what? The carabinieri showed up at the Tanella, too, but by then I was on my way back to the hotel. So that's three times when I had, or at least was supposed to have, the hydria with me, that they showed up. But it would have to be a coincidence, wouldn't it? They also showed up at the door of my hotel room while the hydria was lying on the bed, but it was you they were looking for that time."
"It was," she agreed. "Can you imagine a hotel calling the carabinieri just because someone leaves without paying their bill? It was only a few dollars. A couple of hundred. Maybe three. I suppose that's why they caught me with the hydria. They were after me, anyway, and just lucked out on the antiquity. It makes me mad, though, after I went to the hotel, in person, and paid off a big chunk of what I owed them, and promised the rest of it within a month. They agreed to my terms, too. Maybe I should give them the benefit of the doubt and say they just forgot to inform the police that we had reached an accommodation, but I think it's a bummer. You're probably thinking this serves me right."
"No," I said. "I'm not."
"Thank you. I suppose I should try to look on the bright side," she said. "They do feed you here. Nothing like the lovely meal you treated me to yesterday. Was it only yesterday?"
"Lola, everything is going to be okay."
"Yes. Before I forget, would you mind phoning Signore Vitali, the lawyer I'm supposed to be helping with his bookkeeping, and tell him I won't be showing up for work? Have you got a piece of paper? I memorized the number. They took my purse. He's a nice man; at least, he seemed to be. I feel bad letting him down like this."
"I'll take care of it," I said, writing down the number.
"He's semiretired. Just keeps a few clients now. He's interested in Lars Porsena, just like me. He's researched the area. We thought of combining forces to try to find the tomb. I don't know what he'll think when he hears I'm in jail. He's a lawyer. I don't expect he'd be too keen on an employee, even a contract one, who has been in jail. Too bad, really. I really liked him, and I thought maybe he liked me, too. No doubt he'd been even less keen on having a lady friend who'd been in jail."
"You don't know that," I said.
"Yes, I do. Didn't you tell me your partner is a Mountie? How thrilled would he be if he found out you were in jail?"
"Not very," I said. That was an understatement. I hoped I never had to find out how "not very" it would be.
"Maybe you could tell Salvatore—that's his name— that I've come down with laryngitis, or something, and can't talk, and don't want to infect him, but that I'll call him soon. I hope I'll be out of here in a few days. Do you think so?"
"Lola, listen to me. Everything is going to be okay. I'm meeting a colleague of Lake's later today, and I'm going to make him come in and explain everything."
"He'd be willing to do that?"
"I'm sure he would." He will when I'm finished with him, I thought. I was in no mood for Lake's delicate sensibilities about appearing in public. "You'll be out of here by the end of the day, or tomorrow at the latest. I promise I won't leave you here."
"Lots of people have made promises to me over the years," she said. "Few have kept them."
"I will," I said.
"I don't know. Sometimes you get what you deserve, and maybe this is it for me."
"Don't be silly, Lola. Sneaking out of a hotel without paying shouldn't get you in jail for possessing illegal antiquities."
"You don't know what I've done," she said. "I wouldn't blame you if you just went home."
"I'll be back," I said.
"I hope so," she said, as they led her away. I winced as the cell door clanged shut behind her.
I picked up the Autostrada del Sole at the Arezzo exit and headed south, pulling off at the turnoff for Sinalunga. From there, I picked up the raccordo, or trunk road, heading in the direction of Siena, staying on it until just past Sinalunga, at a turnoff for Scrofiano. The road climbed rather sharply and turned into the town, a pretty place with very steep and narrow cobbled streets, flowerpots in every window and doorway, and not much more in the way of public buildings than a church and a general store. I stopped at the store to buy water and to check my directions.
"Ah, that's Signore Mauro's house you're looking for," one of the customers in the store said. "You are perhaps interested in buying it?"
"Yes, I am," I said. Why not? One takes these opportunities when one can. I wondered if Signore Mauro was a name Lake used for purposes of anonymity, or whether he was just borrowing the place for the occasion. "Actually I was wondering if it is available for rent, rather than purchase. It is still available, is it? Or am I too late?"
"I don't think he's sold it yet, although from what I hear, he'd like to sell it rather than rent."
"I'm sure I couldn't afford that," I said. "Although it would be wonderful to have a place here. Quite expensive, I'm sure. Is Signore Mauro here, do you think?"
"Haven't seen him around here lately. As for expensive, the place is less than it would have been even six months ago. There are those who say he has to sell, a bad marriage, according to some. Others that he's fallen on bad times."
"Then perhaps I stand a chance," I said. He came outside with me and gave me directions. The road out of town quickly turned to gravel. To either side were vineyards, the grapes still on the vines, and fields already plowed under, the soil a raw ochre. By a white stone fence, I turned left onto a bumpy road, which I followed past several houses, and many dogs, all of whom raced my car from behind wire fences. The road came to an end at a row of cypresses, beyond which sat a lovely genuine old Tuscan stone farmhouse, two storys high. Home at one time, no doubt, to contadini, farmers, before it had been acquired by the likes of Signore Mauro, whoever he was, it was the last house on a ridge, blessed by a spectacular view across the valley to Cortona perched on its hill, and sweeping vistas of olive groves and vineyards the other way, with the dark outline of misty hills farther south.