Jordan wondered if that was true. Looking around the campo, she shivered. She heard no hisses, whispers or wings. The shadows stretched long in the night, but they weren’t moving.

Still, she felt as if they were being watched. As if evil eyes looked out at them from the darkness.

“Coffee will be fine,” she murmured.

They walked back to the trattoria. The same kind host met them. Before Jordan knew it, Raphael explained that she’d had an accident. The host’s mother was there, and brought ice cubes and cold water and hot tea. She wanted Jordan’s feet propped up. She was so kind and considerate that Jordan felt guilty.

It occurred to her to ask Raphael how he had come to be there. He seemed baffled. “You called.”

“I called?”

“You called the shop and left me a message.”

She shook her head. “I never called the shop.”

“Well, someone did. I didn’t take the call. Lynn answered and wrote down the message. I think she was jealous that you asked me to come, maybe, and not her.”

“But I didn’t call!”

A moment later, Alfredo Manetti arrived at the trattoria. He came over to the corner table where Jordan and Raphael sat, waiting. He pulled a chair out, straddled it and leaned on the back of it as he stared at the two of them.

“All right, now, Miss Riley. Tell me what happened.”

She sat straight, pulling the ice bag from the back of her head and facing him squarely. “I received a note from Tiff Henley. Remember, I told you she was missing? And you promised to check on her.” Manetti nodded. “Go on.”

“Her note left an address and asked me to meet her. The concierge gave me the directions. I followed them. I couldn’t quite find the place, but a lady in the street told me it had to be the church. When I got there, there were candles burning. I saw something on the altar and walked up to it What I saw was Tiff?

playing a cruel joke on me, I thought. But I tried to get her to get up?and saw that she had been decapitated.”

Manetti was just staring at her. He studied her coldly. “But the body has disappeared?” he said.

“The body was there?have your men check. There isn’t a speck of dust on the altar. And you know, if you do what I suggested before?use Luminal?that’s l-u-m-i-n-a-l, in English?at least, you may find out that there are little spatters of blood around, undetectable to the naked eye, especially in the shadows of such a place.”

“Are you insulting the Italian police, Miss Riley?”

“No, I’m merely challenging your personal investigative techniques.” He appeared a bit amused. But then he said, “You’re certain that you saw Tiffany Henley?”

“Absolutely.”

“Strange.”

“Why?”

“Well, because when I told you that I would investigate her disappearance, I did so. Mrs. Henley left Venice on an Alitalia flight to Paris Saturday at eleven A.M.” Jordan felt as if a wave of ice water washed over her.

“That’s impossible.”

“She purchased the ticket herself at the airport; the clerk remembers her.”

“Then she came back!” Jordan whispered, but the words sounded false to her own ears. She leaned forward again. “Will you please check out the church?”

He nodded gravely and stared at Raphael. “What did you see?” he asked sharply.

Raphael stuttered. He didn’t want to let her down. “Well, there was no body when I arrived.”

“And what were you doing at a boarded-up building?” Manetti asked him.

“Jordan called?”

“I didn’t call.”

“Someone claiming to be Jordan called me and asked me to meet her there.” Manetti nodded again. He seemed to be sympathetic.

Bull! Jordan thought.

“So ... you get a call, you arrive, and Miss Riley is unconscious by the fountain.”

“Si,” Raphael murmured unhappily.

“But you seem fine now, Miss Riley.”

“There is a bump on the back of my head.”

“Maybe we should get you to the hospital.”

“No.”

“But perhaps you have done injury to yourself, causing illusions.”

“I am not having illusions.”

“Come. We will retrace what happened.”

They left the trattoria and walked back to the church. Manetti had brought other officers with him, and they were in the church. Large police lights now illuminated dark corners. The place did not appear sinister at all. Artwork was gone from the side chapels, and there was nothing above the main altar.

“There were other things here,” Jordan murmured.

“They are gone now, too,” Manetti said.

Jordan threw up her hands. “You have no intention of believing a thing I say, or really checking into the matter.”

“On the contrary,” Manetti said with a deep sigh. “You’ll notice I have six officers in here. I made a point of going to the airport when I discovered that Mrs. Henley was not at her palazzo. Now, we have looked and looked ... but as you see, there is nothing but dust.” Jordan strode angrily to the altar. She wiped her hands over it “As you’ll note, there is no dust here!”

“And the one thing my men did find was a crumb-filled food bag, Miss Riley. Someone has probably slept on the altar. With so many poor foreigners in Venice, this place was probably used as a shelter.” At that moment, Jordan realized that there was nothing she could say or do that would convince this man that she had really seen Tiff Henley dead.

And decapitated.

“I nearly married a police officer?as you know. I would never play tricks on law enforcement officers,” she told him angrily.

“I know that you would not.”

“Then?”

“I’m sorry. You hit your head, Miss Riley. I’ve put through a call to your hotel, but your cousin and his wife seem to be out.”

She needed help. Mental help. That’s what he was trying to tell her.

“Whereas Carnevale is healthy fun for most people, perhaps it has not been the wisest time for you to visit,” Manetti suggested softly.

She stared at him intently, but her mind was racing. I don’t trust my cousin at all anymore, sad but true. You doubt my every word. And now, the man who has made me feel secure has proven to be

. . .

What?

“I saw Ragnor Wulfsson after I saw the body. Find him and bring him in; then you’ll have corroboration of what I’m telling you.”

“Fine. We’ll watch for the man. Now, there is little else you can do here. I think you should go to the hospital, since we cannot reach your relatives?”

“No,” she murmured. “I’m fine. No knot on my head. I’m sure I imagined my fell.” She looked at him coldly. “I’ll go back to my hotel, and stay in my room for a while.” She was certain of what she had seen, and of what had happened. And that she was personally in danger here. “Please don’t trouble yourselves too much, but if you are able to get hold of my cousin and his wife, please ... please tell them that I’ll meet them at Harry’s between ten and eleven. That’s usually a good time to get in without a reservation.”

“Miss Riley, I’m sorry to say this, but I think it might be in your best interest to cut your visit to Venice short, and go home.”

“Thank you. Maybe you’re right,” she told him. “I’ll spend my time at the hotel looking into what arrangements can be made in the next few days.”

“We’ll see you to the hotel,” Manetti said.

“I can walk Jordan back?” Raphael offered.

“We’ll see her back,” Manetti said firmly.

“That is kind of you, Officer Manetti,” she said. “Especially since we must surely stop by the station first.”

Manetti frowned. “The station?”

“I want to file a report I mean, just in case any of this proves to be real in the future, surely you’ll want what happened tonight in your records.”

“Of course, of course,” Manetti murmured.

“Raphael, I’d appreciate very much if you’d come as well.” She stared at Manetti. She wanted her words recorded as she said them?she trusted Raphael to see that her account of what happened went down correctly on paper.

A police launch took them to the station. She sat with an unknown officer at a desk, ignoring his looks when his eyes fell upon her skeptically as he typed the words Raphael translated for her. Manetti looked on. As she was nearing the end of her story, there was a commotion at the front of the station. Manetti excused himself. Jordan finished, Raphael read the paper, nodded at her gravely, and she signed the typed police report.

“Let’s go,” she murmured to Raphael.

He nodded, but as they started to slip out the entry, they saw that Manetti was in deep conversation with a young woman who was very upset and insistent; Manetti was trying to calm her.

“What’s going on?” Jordan asked.

“The woman ... she is the sister of the gondolier who died. She is angry with Manetti, who is telling her what the autopsy report said?that her brother’s body was mangled by the sea and sharks and other creatures, but that it still appeared he died from a blow to the head?slamming into the stonework of a low bridge. She says that he did not, that he was murdered.”

“She’s right?he was murdered,” Jordan murmured.

Raphael stared at her.

“I know that she’s right.” Jordan sighed. “Doesn’t Manetti think it’s a little bit suspicious? The man finds a severed head?and all of a sudden he meets a grisly death himself?” Raphael watched her for a moment, then whispered, “I don’t think it will help right now if you bring that up.”

Maybe, maybe not. Jordan couldn’t help herself. She walked up to the two, apologizing to the woman in Italian, then telling Manetti. “Here I go again, insulting you. Listen to her! What kind of an ass are you?