Page 34 of The Unraveling of Julia

Julia tried to get on track. “Have you handled many family searches for adoptees?”

“No. I do paternity work.” Caputo took a gulp of wine as a waitress came over with an espresso, a plate of biscotti, and a menu trimmed in leather.

“Thank you,” Julia said, then the waitress left.

“Please, order whatever you wish. I’m having an early lunch. I recommend therisotto San Massimiliano Riservato start. It’s a delight, with cauliflower, raisins, cashews, and capers.”

“I’m not hungry.” Julia kept her voice low. “So can you conduct a family search for me?”

“Sure, why not?”

Hmmm.“Okay, I was left an inheritance by a woman named Emilia Rossi. I don’t know if she’s related to me, but she was the age my grandmother would be. However, she reportedly had no children, no known family, and never married. I wonder if you could verify that information. I assume public records would tell you—”

“Smart, beautiful,andrich!” Caputo poured himself another glass of wine, emptying the carafe. “You’ll be beating them off with a stick! You don’t need an investigator, you need a bodyguard!”

Julia felt annoyed. “To return to the point, the villa is near Croce, in Chianti.”

Caputo gulped his wine. “Rosso is a very common name.”

“It’s Rossi, not Rosso.”

“What’s her first name again?”

“Emilia with an ‘E.’ Don’t you want to write this down?”

“We need a refill.” Caputo hoisted the empty wine carafe to signal the waitress, bumping a young man in a black ballcap, passing by.

“When was the last time you worked for Mr. Lombardi?”

“Ten, eleven years?” Caputo wiggled his carafe, but all of a sudden, it slipped and crashed to the sidewalk, sending glass shards in all directions. People startled at the nearby tables, and tourists jumped aside.

Julia rose. She wasn’t about to entrust her family search to this idiot. “Mr. Caputo, I think we’re done here.”

Julia hurried away from the café, her phone to her ear. She was calling Piero to pick her up, but he didn’t answer. He must not have expected her to be finished so soon. She hurried through the crowds thronging the Ponte Vecchio, trying to get past them for open air on the other side of the bridge nearer the Uffizi Gallery.

Julia texted Piero on the way, her heart beginning to pound. She called Lombardi, hoping he would have other referrals for familyinvestigators. She kept walking as she held the phone to her ear, covering her other ear so she could hear. The call dropped abruptly, so she tried again, hurrying along the Arno. She passed under a stretch of stucco arches, and the noise level subsided. She tried Lombardi again, and the call connected, so she ducked next to an arch, near the wall to stay out of the crowd.

“Pronto…,” Lombardi answered, but the reception was terrible.

“Hi, it’s Julia Pritzker. I met with Caputo but he’s not going to work out. Do you have any other recommendations?”

“Julia… I… can’t hear… you.”

“Can you hear me now?” Julia turned around and spotted a man near one of the arches. He was the passerby in the black ballcap that Caputo bumped at the café. He turned his head away quickly. Oddly, it gave her the impression that he’d been watching her.

“Julia? Julia? I… hear… only static.”

“Can you recommend any other investigators?” Julia knew Lombardi couldn’t hear her, but she didn’t know what was going on with the man in the black ballcap. He had been looking directly at her, almost as if he was following her.

“I’m sorry… can you… call back?”

“No, this is a good time for me.” Julia walked away. She didn’t want the man in the ballcap to know that she’d spotted him. She was wearing sunglasses, so he couldn’t have seen her eyes.

“Julia… I will hang up… and…”

“No, wait, it could get better.” Julia kept walking. The call dropped again. She nodded, pretending the conversation was continuing. The arches ended, and the sidewalk narrowed on her side of the street. Traffic was stopped, and she crossed the street, still faking conversation.

Ahead was a majestic row of vaulted arches and signs to the Uffizi. Sunshine poured around the immense columns, casting long linesof light and dark. Tourists thronged on the grand stone promontory under the arches, taking pictures.

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