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some Valium somewhere. Her white
face moved sideways as she slid open the door to the medicine
cabinet.
Behind it, on the glass shelf, lay her 'silver bullet’.
'Oh God, no,’ Sam breathed, as she took down the vibrator
and with trembling fingers slowly revolved its chrome
shaft. Then almost dropped it. Fixed to the base was a
little red heart-shaped applique sticker she had never seen
before.
She walked back in the kitchen and picked up her cell
phone. Her hands were shaking so hard she had to key four
or five times before she got the number right.
Ward must have come for her last night, and left a keepsake.
    'There’s
something I haven’t told you,’ I said.
Her lips pursed as for a kiss, Laura leaned forward to
blow on a forkful of risotto that was too hot to put in her
mouth.
'I was supposed to meet someone earlier, a friend of
Sophie’s called Sam Metcalf.’ I hesitated. 'I kept the appointment,
only she didn’t show up.’
Laura lowered her fork.
'I think she stayed away because she’s afraid.’
'Does it make you feel better, Ed? Is that why you keep
doing this to me?’
Her voice grew loud suddenly, as if she’d forgotten we were in a restaurant. The terrace of the Villa Arrighetti was
busier than yesterday, the other tables mostly occupied by
elderly couples who talked in hushed tones.
'A week ago,’ I went on, ignoring some curious looks we
were getting, 'I received an e-mail from this girl. It said she’d
found some stuff on her laptop left there by Sophie that she
thought might be of interest. Apparently Soph used her
computer sometimes to go online.’
'Why did she contact you?’ Laura was instantly sceptical.
'Why not the police?’
'She was in Boston at the time of the murder. She knew
nothing about it until she got back to Florence a month later.
I’m not sure that she didn’t go to the police.’
'Did you talk to Morelli about her?’
'I brought up her name, he didn’t react. Sam asked me
not to tell anyone.’
'You don’t think that’s a little odd?’ Laura frowned, then
added, 'And why wait so long to get in touch?’
'Look, all I know is what she said in her e-mails . . . we’ve
never spoken.’
She blew on her food again, swallowed a mouthful of rice.
'You know . . . this is really delicious.’
'Can we stay on the subject? It’s important.’
'So bloody important you felt no need to tell me about it
until now.’
'I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to get . . . your
hopes up.’
I had been planning to tell her, but only after I’d met the
girl and decided whether the information she had was
significant. Same as with the sketchbook, I wanted to avoid
upsetting my wife over nothing
'My hopes?’ Laura smiled and shook her head.
'Anyway, I did speak to you about her,’ I said quietly; the
last thing I wanted was an argument. 'I asked you if you’d
ever heard Sophie mention anyone called Sam.’
'Maybe you thought you did.’
'I want justice for her, Laura. Is anything wrong with that?’
She didn’t answer, her pale unsparing eyes resting calmly on
mine. 'Well . . . is there?’
It wasn’t that Laura had no interest in seeing Sophie’s killer
caught. She just didn’t want things to drag on indefinitely.
As I said before, we deal with loss in our own ways. She was
seeking a different kind of peace.
She kept staring at me as she took a sip of wine. 'Try not
to be late this evening. You are going to be there, aren’t you?’
'What do you think? Of course, I’ll be there.’ I wasn’t
looking forward to the requiem mass she’d arranged to have
said for Sophie (who never set foot in a church, if she
could help it) at San Miniato, but I knew Laura needed
my support.
Our main courses arrived just then. She’d ordered carpaccio, I’d chosen the roast lamb with rosemary. We ate in silence,
enjoying the food. It’s an odd uncomfortable truth, but loss
doesn’t dull the appetite.
Laura had changed for lunch into a light summer dress
and done something different with her