Father Kavanaugh was a holy man. He was pious and he was good. He’d worked with Mother Teresa in Calcutta, and he’d founded orphanages and schools in Uganda.
But more than that, he was the one person in Raven’s life who had never disappointed her. She knew without doubt that if she were in trouble and went to him, he would do everything in his power to help her and he would expect nothing in return.
She wondered what he’d say when he saw her altered appearance. She wondered what miraculous account he would give of her experience wearing the relic.
Although she respected him, loved him even, she was not looking forward to those conversations.
It would be some time before he was settled in Rome and able to travel. She would have to work up the courage to listen to him and not blurt out cynical, offensive words.
She sighed at the thought.
“You don’t look so good.”
Raven was jolted from her musings by Patrick’s voice. He was standing next to her desk in the archives, wearing a concerned expression.
“Thanks a lot.” She grimaced.
“I didn’t mean it that way.” He touched her shoulder. “Are you sick?”
She shook her head.
“Dark.” He pointed to the purple smudges below her eyes. “Aren’t you sleeping?”
“Not really.” Her eyes moved in the direction of the archivist and back to her friend. “I can’t talk about it here.”
“Fair enough. I need to make some photocopies and use the scanner. I probably need help. Join me?”
“What about the archivist?”
“I’ll speak to her. Hang on.”
Patrick walked to the archivist’s desk. Raven closed her computer windows in anticipation and logged out of her computer.
The archivist looked over at her and she offered a restrained smile.
“So what’s up?” Patrick asked as they walked down the hall toward the photocopying room.
“I’m still freaked out about the mugging in Santo Spirito.”
Patrick grimaced. “I don’t blame you. Has there been any other trouble?”
“No. But every time I close my eyes I see it.”
Patrick shook his head. “I’m beginning to think the city isn’t as safe as it used to be.”
“You can say that again.”
They continued walking and Patrick looked down at her feet.
“Are you limping?”
“A little. My leg is stiff today.”
“Do you need your cane?”
“I don’t think so.”
Patrick seemed suspicious. “I thought your leg was better.”
“It is.” Raven straightened her leg and set her teeth against the pain.
“Did you ever look at the radiographs of the figure of Mercury from Primavera?”
“Not very closely. Why?”
“It looks like Botticelli changed Mercury’s hair.”
Patrick gave her a puzzled look. “Changed? How?”
“He had short blond hair in the beginning. There’s a ghost underneath the figure.”
“I don’t remember hearing about that.”
“Me, neither. That’s why I saved the files to my flash drive. I wanted to look at them at home.”
“Did you?”
“I expanded them on my laptop, but the quality isn’t that good. Still, you can see the ghost.”
Patrick whistled. “That’s a pretty incredible find. How did everyone miss it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m looking at it wrong. I need to ask Professor Urbano.”
They entered the photocopying room and closed the door behind them.
Patrick quickly set up his photocopying jobs so they could continue talking.
“How’s life in the archives?”
Raven’s shoulders slumped. “Not that great. Hopefully, Urbano will let me come back on Monday. He said it depended on my replacement.”
“What about Vitali?”
Raven shook her head. “I was his resident gopher this week.”
“I didn’t think Italy had gophers.”
Raven rolled her eyes.
“It does now.”
On the way back to the archives, Patrick and Raven climbed the steps to the second floor and entered the Botticelli room. Patrick wanted a closer look at Primavera.
“I can’t imagine why Botticelli would change the hair. Mercury is supposed to be modeled on Lorenzo, one of the Medici. He had long brown hair.” Patrick stepped closer to the painting.
“Perhaps another patron commissioned the painting, then failed to pay. That kind of thing used to happen all the time.” Raven found herself gravitating to the figure of Zephyr, on the other side of the painting.
“Maybe. I doubt Botticelli would start the painting without a large deposit and a contract. I suppose he could have had a falling-out with whoever commissioned it first.”
Raven nodded.
Neither of them noticed the figure of Ispettor Batelli, who stood at the entrance to the room, watching them.
Chapter Nineteen
When Raven exited the Uffizi after work, she found Bruno waiting for her, handsomely dressed in a gray suit and blue tie.
She was tired and her leg was troubling her. But she pushed everything aside and walked to him, her knapsack on her shoulder and her head held high.
Bruno greeted her with a smile.
His smile faltered as she approached.
Raven traced the scar on her forehead self-consciously before balling her hand into a fist and lowering it. Clearly he’d noticed the change in her appearance. From the looks of it, he was surprised, if not disappointed.
“Hello.” He kissed each of her cheeks and motioned to her scar. “Are you all right?”
“I fell, but I’m okay. How are you?”
“Good. And your cane? Don’t you need it?” His gaze traveled to her legs, fixing momentarily on her scar.
“No.” She shifted her weight awkwardly.
His eyes moved to hers again. “You smell fantastic. Like roses.”
“It’s Jo Malone soap. My sister sends it to me.”
Bruno closed his eyes and inhaled. “It’s tremendous.”
“How’s your grandmother? I haven’t seen her for a while.”
He opened his eyes. “She hasn’t been feeling well. She’s been spending her days in bed and not eating. My mother is with her.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. She’s always been so kind to me. When I first moved into the apartment, she took pity on me and taught me how to cook. If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”