A Thousand Tombs Read Online Free PDF Page A

serving platter on the nearby sideboard, then picked at the edge of the tape across his mouth. “This will hurt.”
    His old-man’s skin was thin, and probably fragile. She didn’t want to damage it so she took her time, picking slowly at the tape. She kept at it until she’d plucked enough away to get a decent grip, then ever so slowly pulled it free.
    “I’m sorry,” Gen said.
    “I should be saying that to you.”
    His voice was deep and very Italian, like he’d just gotten off a flight from Milan. His entire body was trembling and he was short of breath, and he wore a haunted sort of look on his face. Despair, that’s what it was. Like his best friend had abandoned him.
    “Like I said, it was stupid of me to assume no one else was here.” Gen kneeled and worked on the tape binding his left wrist to the carved arm of the chair. “Do you have any scissors?”
    “Yes, in the kitchen. In the top drawer of the cabinet closest to that door.” He gestured with his head.
    Whatever emotion gripped the man, he wasn’t allowing it to get the better of him. He must have had an awful scare and his face was a miserable reflection of it, but his voice was sturdy. Cops could do that, but she hadn’t seen many civilians pull it off.
    She got the scissors and came back, then hacked through the bands and moved to the other side and cut those.
    “I will do the rest,” he said, rubbing his jaw. “You better put that bag back on your eye. It does not look good.”
    Gen sat down and clutched the ice. Her head screamed. She leaned back and took in some air while her companion worked his way free.
    “I have a million questions,” she finally said. “But let’s start with names. I’m Gen Delacourt.”
    “Vincenzo Vitelli. Thank you for your help.”
    “What happened here?”
    “It is a long story.”
    “Would you mind giving me the short version, Mr. Vitelli?”
    “Someone wants something from me.”
    At that, Gen rose and went outside and groped beneath the shrub beside the back door until she located her purse. She thanked whatever whim had told her to stash it there. If she hadn’t it would probably be gone, hanging from the arm of the guy who’d punched her.
    “Is this what your visitors were after?” The metal inside was heavy as she held out the velvet bag. “Is it yours?”
    “It was in my safe keeping.” Vitelli put the bag on the buffet and traced the coin inside with a finger. Interesting, that he didn’t even turn it out to be sure what it was. He knew. “How did you get it?” he asked.
    “Someone saw you drop it and wanted me to bring it back to you.”
    “Is he all right?”
    Ah, so he knew who she was talking about.
    “Yes.” Gen voiced her thoughts. “Did you lose it on purpose?”
    His expression clouded, but Vitelli held her gaze. “I am a clumsy and forgetful old man, my daughter.”
    She nodded, thinking. She was struck by how much Vitelli reminded her of her own long-missed grand-père . His accent was different and he came from another culture, to be sure. Still, the resemblance was there. But would this man, who was so like her grandfather, lie to her? Sure he would. People told her fibs all the time.
    And she’d better not forget it.
    “I’m going to call the police.” She pulled out her cell and keyed in Mack’s home phone, then walked into the kitchen for privacy. Mack answered on the third ring.
    “Time to bring in the big guns,” she said.
    “What happened? Are you all right?”
    “I’m okay. But prepare yourself for a major shiner.”
    “Oh shoot, Genny. How?”
    “The old-fashioned way, a fist connected with my face. I found Mr. Vincenzo Vitelli strapped to a chair and rushed in without looking around. I have to call this in, but I’m going to keep you and your new friend out of it. Who runs cases in North Beach?”
    He told her.
    “One more thing, Mack. You should probably check into Vitelli when you go back to work. We should both be curious about him and this