The P.I.

“No. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“How about Juliana Oliver?”

She shook her head again. “She’s related to your friend?”

“Yes. His baby sister.”

“And she’s missing? Oh, Kit, I’m so sorry.”

“I know.” And the fact that she cared was a comfort to him. But he wanted her to concentrate on the memory while it was still fresh. “Tell me what kind of music was playing? Rock? Reggae? Rap?”

He watched as a little line appeared on her forehead, a sign that she was thinking hard. Odd that he’d known her for such a short amount of time and yet he knew that about her.

“Classical. Piano. Maybe Chopin. And it was soft. Very…discreet.”

“Probably piped in. And the doors were glass—the kind you push through. Maybe you were in the lobby of a hotel or a restaurant. Chopin’s a little upscale for a bar or a club.”

She met his eyes. “You’re very good at this.”

He grinned at her. “Didn’t I tell you that I was the best?”

She smiled at him, and Kit felt his heart do a strange little somersault. “C’mon,” he said as he rose and helped her to her feet. “I’m going to quit while I’m ahead. Besides, I’ll feel safer when I get you to my place.”

12

“THIS IS WHERE you live?” Drew stared at the three-story house with its tower thrusting up into the sky. It was set back from the road at the end of a wide, circular drive and surrounded by shade trees, neatly trimmed hedges and what looked like at least an acre of lawn. To the left of the house, the yard sloped gently down to a large pond.

“Yeah. But not just me.” Kit took her hand and drew her up the front steps. “The whole Angelis family lives here. It’s my aunt Cass’s house. She’s my mother’s sister and their grandfather, my great-grandfather, immigrated to this country from Greece in the 1920’s and started a shipyard that did well enough for him to build this place.”

“It’s lovely.” In the moonlight it reminded her of a place where a princess might live.

The front door was outlined in etched glass and opened into a wide hall that boasted a carved-oak staircase. The wood gleamed in the light from a crystal chandelier.

“It takes a lot of money to keep the place up, more money than Aunt Cass makes with her psychic consultations, and Dad puts a lot of the restaurant money back into the business, so my brothers and I pay rent now. So does Aunt Cass’s son, Dino, when he’s home. He’s in the Navy so he travels a lot. Five years ago, we pitched in and renovated the place into apartments. Aunt Cass and Philly have apartments on the main floor. My brothers and I live on the second and third floors and Dad has the gardener’s cottage. We figure when we move out—which I assume we all will eventually—Aunt Cass can rent the apartments out. Theo did the math, and the income should provide her with enough money for a very comfortable retirement.”

He pressed a hand to her back as they started up the stairs. “My place is on the second floor.”

His place turned out to be a large airy room, lined on three walls with bookshelves. Two leather couches faced each other in front of a fireplace and the fourth wall was split by three tall windows. Kit led her to one of the couches.

“Sit,” he said as he draped his jacket over the back of the couch and set his gun carefully down on one of the shelves. “I’m going to open a bottle of wine and then I’ll fix you that omelet I promised you.”

Sinking into the soft cushions of the couch, Drew watched as Kit moved to a cabinet in the bookcase, extracted a wine bottle and uncorked it. He filled two glasses and handed one to her as he sat down beside her.

“You’ve been very patient with me. So I think before I make that omelet, I should fill you in on what I’ve been able to discover about what went on at that church.”

She took a quick sip of her wine and felt much better when he took her hand. “The bride is Juliana Oliver, and the groom is Paulo, the son of Angelo Carlucci.” Kit gave her a brief history of the rivalry between the Carlucci and Oliver families.

“You think Juliana and Paulo are the couple I remember coming in through those glass doors?”

“Could be. You said they were young. Paulo’s about twenty and Juliana is even younger, and their families would do anything they could to prevent the marriage.”

“Shades of Romeo and Juliet,” she said.

“Good analogy. The feud between the Montagues and the Capulets probably had nothing on the one between the Olivers and the Carluccis. If the news got out about the wedding—and it evidently did—both families would have a motive for putting a permanent end to the marriage.”

She tightened her hand on the wineglass. “Permanent as in…”

“Killing the bride or the groom or both? Maybe.”

Drew thought for a minute. “And the police suspect Roman of coming to the church with that in mind?”

“At the very least, they’re going to think that he came to the church to stop the wedding. The fact that he brought a gun and fired it doesn’t look good for him. When I spoke with Nik, his theory was that Roman and Paulo struggled at the top of the stairs and Roman fell over the railing to the vestibule floor.”

“Do you think that Roman went there to stop the wedding?”

Kit ran a hand through his hair. “Perhaps. He’s going to take over the business for his father one day. I don’t imagine that he would be happy about his sister’s choice of a bridegroom. But he wouldn’t have gone there to shoot anyone. What worries me is that the police are going to be under a lot of pressure to put this case to rest. And Roman can’t defend himself. They’re keeping him sedated until they decide whether or not to operate to relieve the swelling on his spine. By the time he can tell his side of the story, the police will have built a pretty good case against him.” He paused to rub the back of his neck. “And I have a feeling that there’s more bad news coming down the pike.”

She put a hand over his. “Do you want to go back to the hospital? I could stay here.”

Something moved through Kit when he saw the concern in her eyes. He wanted to pull her into his arms and just hold her, but he clamped down on the impulse. “Thanks, but I’m not leaving you. The best thing I can do for Roman right now is to stick with you. Once you recover your memory, we’re going to know a lot more about what went on in that church.”

She was going to argue with him, he saw it in her eyes, but a knock on the door forestalled her.

Rising, Kit kept hold of her hand and drew her toward the archway that opened off the room. “Wait here in the kitchen.” It was unlikely that they’d been followed, but there was a possibility that the two goons had traced his license plate, and he wasn’t taking any chances.

He retrieved his gun. “Who is it?”

“It’s your aunt Cass.”

Relieved, Kit tucked the gun into the back waistband of his jeans and opened the door.

She handed him two plastic grocery bags. “Just a few things for the omelet you’re going to make.”

Kit studied her for a moment. She looked perfectly composed and serene the way she always did. She was a tall woman, not beautiful in the way that Helena was. Still, her features were classic and, in her late fifties, Cassandra Angelis was still stunning. However, it was her eyes that fascinated him. They were a deep amber color, and he’d always had the feeling that they could see right into him. Tonight, her gray hair was pulled back from her face and she had on one of the flowing caftans that she usually wore during her appointments. He didn’t bother to ask how she’d known that he was thinking of making an omelet. He’d accepted his aunt’s ability to know things long ago.

A sudden possibility occurred to him. “Drew, it’s safe to come out. I’d like you to meet my aunt, Cassandra.”

He studied his aunt’s face as Drew walked toward them. “Aunt Cassandra, this is my client, Drew. I don’t suppose you know her last name?”

“Please, call me Cass.” She took Drew’s extended hand in both of hers and paused for a minute. Then she smiled and nodded. “Yes. Yes, indeed. I don’t know your last name…yet, but you’ll find the answers you’re seeking by the end of the weekend.” She turned to Kit. “And so will you.”

Kit glanced at Drew. “It was worth a shot. She’s the real McCoy when it comes to having psychic powers and seeing the future.”

Cass kept her eyes on Drew. “It’s like seeing through a glass darkly. Similar to the way you’re picturing your memories.”

Drew’s eyes widened. “You know about that?”

“I sensed it as soon as I took your hand.” Releasing Drew, she shifted her gaze to Kit. “I have to go back to my office. One of my clients will be calling shortly. And since you’ll want to talk to Nik, why don’t you take him one of those bags? His cupboard is usually as bare as Mother Hubbard’s.”

The moment Cass left, Kit turned back to Drew. “Stay here. Lock the door and don’t open it until I get back. Promise?”

“Sure.”