Urbano looked puzzled. “Such as?”
“Such as evidence of changes in color or length.”
Urbano looked off into space for a moment, as if he were regarding the painting in his mind’s eye.
“There was some slight change around the edges of the hair, as I recall, but nothing about the color or the overall length. Why do you ask?”
“I thought I saw something in one of the radiographs that suggested Botticelli changed the hair color.”
Urbano smiled. “Impossible. We went over the radiographs very, very carefully. Everything we found was documented and published.”
“Oh.” Raven nodded. “I have a couple of other questions, if you don’t mind.”
He gestured to her to continue.
“Did you know of any other version of Primavera that was painted by Botticelli, perhaps prior to the one upstairs?”
Urbano stroked his chin. “There were studies for the figures and drawings.”
“But not a painting?”
“No. Why?”
“Uh, when I thought I saw something about Mercury’s hair, I wondered if Botticelli had painted a previous version.” She lifted her new glasses. “It was just a thought.”
“Of course.” Professor Urbano gave her a patient smile and excused himself for lunch.
Raven watched him leave, mulling over their conversation.
She considered William’s account of how he’d acquired his Primavera, wondering if that was why no one had ever heard of it.
What she couldn’t understand was why no one seemed to have noticed the change in Mercury’s hair in the Uffizi’s version. She knew evidence of the change was visible. She knew she hadn’t made a mistake.
Your memory hasn’t been that great lately. You can’t even remember what happened the night of the accident.
It occurred to her that William might be the one behind Urbano’s lack of awareness, as he was behind so many odd events. Since Urbano had worked on the restoration of Primavera, he should have seen the change. Perhaps William had adjusted his memory during the restoration.
But why didn’t he delete the records?
Raven didn’t have an answer to that question, but she was determined to ask him. Her need to speak to him reminded her of what Patrick had said earlier about Agent Savola and Ispettor Batelli.
Raven walked with her cane to her knapsack and picked up her new phone. She called Ambrogio.
“Good afternoon, Signorina Wood.” He greeted her in English. “How may I help you?”
Raven grew flustered. “Um, hello, Ambrogio. Can I speak with William?”
“I’m afraid his lordship cannot be disturbed. How may I assist you?”
“Can you give him a message for me? It’s urgent.”
“Of course.”
She paused, feeling awkward. “Can you tell him that, um, the man I saw being attacked in Santo Spirito was an Interpol agent named Savola, who was working with the Carabinieri to investigate the robbery at the Uffizi?”
Raven’s tone grew urgent. “William needs to know this right away. The police haven’t approached me, but one of the officers is here and he spoke to one of my colleagues. Because the agent was attacked in front of my apartment, I’m worried they’ll put it together and come looking for me.”
“Please don’t worry, signorina. I will see that your message reaches his lordship. Is Luka with you?”
“I think he’s outside the gallery, waiting.”
“If there are any problems, go to Luka. He will bring you here.”
“Yes. Yes, thank you.”
“May I help you in any other way?”
Raven sighed. “No. Thank you, Ambrogio. That’s everything.”
“Then good-bye, signorina.”
“Good-bye.”
She ended the call, staring at her cell phone.
She’d passed along the information, but felt far from comforted. At that moment, however, there was nothing she could do.
She lifted her knapsack and began walking toward the door, leaning heavily on her cane.
That was when she saw Ispettor Batelli striding toward her.
“You saw Agent Savola being attacked?” he asked, in Italian.
“What?” She stalled.
“You just said that you saw him. What did you see?”
Raven frowned. “You misunderstood my English. I didn’t say that.”
Batelli swore. “I heard what you said. And my English is perfect. Savola’s Vespa was found outside your apartment.”
“Really? That’s strange.” She forced a smile. “I’m afraid I’m late for my lunch. If you’ll excuse me . . .”
“Who is William?” he asked, intercepting her.
“I have no idea.”
“Your telephone call. You wanted to speak with William. William who?”
“A family friend.” She smiled again. “Now I really have to go.”
She tried to move past him but he stood in front of her.
“William York?”
Raven attempted to hide her recognition, but she suspected she failed based on Batelli’s triumphant expression.
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She skirted him and limped toward the door.
“Why didn’t you call the police? Why didn’t you report it?”
“Because I didn’t see anything.” She spoke over her shoulder.
“The investigating officers were told that Agent Savola was following you after hours. When they found his Vespa, they should have interviewed you as a matter of procedure. Why didn’t they?”
Raven didn’t turn around. “You’re harassing me. If you don’t leave me alone, I’m going to Dottor Vitali.”
“And tell him what? I overheard you confess to having witnessed a crime.”
“I didn’t witness anything.”
Batelli brought his body in front of hers. “I saw the police reports. Your name doesn’t appear. Why is that?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She continued her way to the door, desperate to get away from him.
“Someone is protecting you,” he called. “I’m going to find out who. You’re going to be questioned.”
Raven increased her pace.
“This time it will be with the public prosecutor!”
She exited the lab, ducking into the women’s bathroom. Leaning against the wall, she screwed her eyes shut and tried to calm herself.