Page 13 of The Thief

I stare at him in consternation. I should have told him about my discovery, but I didn’t. Most museum robberies are inside jobs, and for all I know, Dottore Garzolo was involved in this theft. I’ve barely seen my boss all week, and running into him so soon after my discovery feels like a premonition of doom.

“Umm, yes,” I say weakly, wondering how to get out of this conversation.

“Any weekend plans?” he continues.

“I’m having dinner with a friend tonight.” I force a smile on my face. “In fact, I’m running late for that.”

“Then I won’t keep you,” he replies benevolently. “Have a good weekend, Lucia. See you Monday.”

Phew. I murmur something polite in reply and hurry back home. There’s no food in my kitchen, but when I open my refrigerator, I discover the pear I bought at the airport on Sunday. It’s overripe with brown spots dotting its skin, but it’s all I have, so I eat it, then perch on my mattress and open my laptop.

It’s time for research.

The painting wasn’t in the Palazzo Ducale’s electronic catalog, but on the back of its frame, I found a paper tag with a reference number, which means that it was part of the displayed collection once upon a time.

Ninety minutes of painstaking research later, I’ve learned that theMadonna at Reposewas last displayed fifteen years ago. I can’t imagine that the museum would display a fake, which suggests that the painting was stolen sometime between then and now.

That’s too broad a range to be helpful.

I exhale in frustration and massage my aching neck. I don’t want to accumulate a lot of furniture, but I might have to buy a folding chair—sitting on my mattress like this is killing my back.

Valentina texts me just as I’m trying to figure out what to do next.

We still on for dinner tonight?

I’d totally forgotten about our plans.

Yes! Where?

She sends me an address not too far from me.

See you in fifteen.

My best friend is already at the restaurant when I arrive, looking exhausted and nursing a glass of wine. “Tough week?” I ask as I sit down.

“Busy and frustrating,” she replies. “I’m doing some research and getting nowhere with it. What about you? How was your first week at the new job?”

I lean forward. “Something really strange happened today. I was doing some cataloging, and I stumbled upon a storage room that looked like it hadn’t been opened in over a decade. And in that room, shoved away on a forgotten rack, I found a fake Titian.”

“Interesting.” She goes completely still. “How do you know it’s a fake?”

I pull out my phone and navigate to the photo I took. “Zoom in on it. All Venetian paintings from this period have thin, skinny cracks. This canvas probably dates back to the right century, but it isn’t from Venice.” Valentina doesn’t look as thrilled as I thought she’d be, but that’s okay—I’m excited enough for both of us. “Can you believe it? It feels like serendipity. Here we are, trying to figure out our next heist, and a fake Titian falls in my lap. I think the first step should be?—”

“No.” Valentina puts my phone down and leans forward, her expression serious. “Let this one go.”

I couldn’t have heard her correctly. “What? Why?”

She bites her lip. “You don’t want to attract the attention of the wrong people.” She’s gripping the stem of her wine glass tight enough that I worry it’s going to snap. “You’re my best friend, and I don’t want anything to happen to you. Donotsteal in Venice.”

I stare at her in shock. Valentina has never discouraged me from doing risky things. Half the time as teenagers, she was the instigator. “Why not?”

“Because Antonio Moretti owns the city, and nobody commits crimes here without his permission.”

Antonio Moretti is rumored to be the head of the Venice Mafia. I read a fawning, cringe-worthy profile of him last year. The interviewer clearly had the hots for him, and she went on and on about his Formula One racing team, his award-winning vineyards, and his generous donations to museums and various other charities.

“Mafia? You’re joking, right?”

Valentina doesn’t look the slightest bit amused. “Lucia, you’re not taking me seriously. For once in your life, please listen to me.Let this one go.”

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