The Italian Inheritance Read Online Free PDF Page A

loved anybody else. She died alone. Giovanni Albertosi is my father whether you like it or not.”
    Rafael looked at his watch. He didn’t have the time to continue this conversation now . There were urgent things he had to do. The woman could not honestly expect to waltz in to his office with only an old letter as proof that she was Giovanni Albertosi’s long lost daughter and expect him to believe her.
    Calmly he confronted her, “Until you have some concrete proof, by which I mean a birth certificate, DNA evidence or other legal documentation that you are indeed Giovanni Albertosi’s daughter, please do not bother me again.”
    Anna stared at him, speechless. “Is that really all you have to say?”
    “I’m afraid so, Signorina .” He strode to the door and held it open, waiting for her to leave. “Have a good day.”
    Anna got unsteadily to her feet. This time there was no mistaking the tears in her eyes. Rafael was seized by a moment of doubt and had to remind himself that she was acting. She couldn’t be Giovanni’s daughter. It was too much of a coincidence. The timing was too perfect. The inheritance was as yet unclaimed. There was too much money at stake. Rafael knew when it boiled down to this much money, you couldn’t trust anybody. He wanted to believe her. But there were too many reasons not to.
    If, and he seriously doubted it, her claims were true, she could come back with some sort of proof. This wasn’t the dark ages. But he was willing to bet good money that she was a fraud.
    Anna was deathly pale now. She gave him a look that could have blown straight off the polar ice caps , and without another word , turned and walked out of his office.

CHAPTER THREE
     
    Rafael was awakened by a soft, scraping sound. He lay in bed and listened.
    There it was again.
    Slowly he drew back the sheets , and without turning on the light, climbed out of bed and made his way across the room to the bedroom window. Staring at the expanse of lawn , he thought he detected a dark shape against the white wall surrounding the property. He strained his eyes. Yes, someone was actually climbing over the wall.
    Rafael pulled on some trousers and within seconds was at the front door. Opening it silently, he stepped out into the night. By the slight incandescence of the sky he guessed   it was around five o’clock in the morning. In an hour the sun would be up. Hardly the best time to attempt a break in.
    The shadowy figure dropped with a small grunt into a bush of geraniums which flanked the inside of the wall. Rafael watched silently as the intruder tiptoed across the lawn and around the left side of the house. He followed, his body flush with the side of the house, protected by the shadows. The intruder didn’t look very large and Rafael decided that he could probably take him. It must be a youth, or a very small man.
    He glanced back at the intruder’s point of entry to make sure there was no accomplice and set off around the side of the house in silent pursuit. The intruder moved slowly, cautiously, stopping only when he stumbled into a bush of wild roses by mistake. Rafael heard a muffled “ouch” as the intruder bent down to free himself.
    What kind of criminal breaks into a house and then gets tangled in a rose bush? Not a very good one. This must be an amateur job.
    Stealthily Rafael approached from behind. The intruder had no idea he was being followed. One advantage of growing up on the streets of Naples, Rafael thought wryly to himself, was the ability to dissolve into the shadows. The other was street fighting, a skill he may have to put into practice in a few moments , too.
    In one seamless move , Rafael pounced from the shadows, a well placed arm going around the intruder’s neck, the other pinning his hands behind his back. There was a short gasp of surprise.
    “Hold still and no one needs to get hurt,” Rafael said coldly in Italian , holding the man in a vice-like grip. Damned if he didn’t stop