Chapter 7
Nancy
When I returned from grabbing a quick lunch at Rialto Market, I found several parcels left on the table in the front entrance patio of the Ca Nascosta. The first was a box of chocolates addressed to Il Dottore—not surprising. The second, however, caught my attention. It was a manila envelope with a single name printed across the front, looking lonely against all that solid.
Samantha
I would be lying if I told you that my heart didn't jump a little, not because of the name, but because of the implications. Who thought that Samantha Quick was staying here, at the Ca Nascosta? I shook free of the idea for a moment, deciding that I would think about this in my room. I took the letter and the box of chocolates. Though I didn't want to be seen with them as if they were mine, I didn't want them to melt in the sun, which was executing a hostile takeover on the patio.
I hurried up the stairs and shoved open the door, consequentially bashing straight into Helena.
"Oh! Nancy," she huffed, backing up a step and trying to work the annoyance off her face. "I didn't even hear you."
"Sorry Helena," I forced a smile and braced my arms over my chest, trying to hide the parcels from her immediate view. But I failed.
"Zo." She looked up with a coy little smile, "Someone left another box of chocolates for you, I see. I knew zey were for you all along. See, you can't keep all your little secrets from me, Nancy Drew."
Oh yes I can.
"Where are you off to, Helena?" I changed the subject, making sure the name on the envelope was well concealed from her view.
"Oh, just…errands and zings." she explained with a wave of her hand, like if I need not question that in the least. "But aren't you just a lucky receiver today?" She laughed one of her fake laughs. "Believe it or not, another parcel arrived for you earlier—when you were out—so I left it in our room."
I wanted to ask why, but I didn't. I cared little of the transportation of the parcel, and much more of its contents. So instead of asking questions about my roommate's unwelcome intrusions on my privacy, I just smiled and thanked her.
"See you," Helena slipped past me and let herself out the front door, closing it behind her.
I let out a breath and scanned the room, which was empty and echoing my exhale. It was warm in my bedroom, and painted a soft glowing red from the afternoon sun. There was a thin, pale envelope on my bed, with a vaguely familiar scripted 'Nancy' across the front.
I seated myself on the edge of my bed and looked down at the three pieces of mail. They were all addressed differently, yet somehow, they were all for me. I shook my head of the questions for now, reaching for the envelope with my name on it, then pulling my hand away, almost as if by some other force.
No—remember what's important, I told myself coldly, taking the parcel addressed to Samantha and tearing open the flap. A single sheet of unlined paper fell out into my lap. I unfolded it and read quickly.
Samantha,
Your presence is requested by Arlecchino. Please be at the Casa dei Giochi this evening at seventeen o'clock for an investigative interview.
As you may have been told, Sonitrico has acquired a viable candidate for the inevitable replacement of Brighella - a new candidate by the name of Josiah Daniau. Unfortunately, at this time, we do not have many clients at our disposal. Thus, the decision has been unofficially made by Arlecchino – we are to reach out to other contacts in order to acquire new clients to fill certain empty positions. We do not have much time.
Given your record of assistance in the past, Arlecchino trusts your judgment and insists that you interview the potential candidate. To put it in his own words, "We trust that you will be able to extract as much information as possible with as little transparency as possible."
Please do not be alarmed at the implications of this change. We have never placed one particular client in a position indefinitely. You, among others, will be kept on our list for the potential positions of liberators. All is changeable within Sonitrico. We are one, but we are separate. We speak of nothing, and yet we say everything.
Remember: Casa dei Giochi at seventeen o'clock. We trust you will be punctual, as you always are.
Sincerely,
Scaramuccia
Arlecchino was Enrico Tazza and Scaramuccia was Gina. So that meant this was a letter from Tazza, written by Gina. But why would she have written the letter? I thought Antonio Fango was the one in charge of communications. And who was Josiah Daniau? A replacement for the position of Brighella meant a replacement for Nico Petit. Which meant a replacement for the phantom.
I sat there for a few moments, staring down at the letter in my hands, unable to feel anything beyond the thin paper and myself breathing in and out. I couldn't answer any of these questions for myself. I would merely have to wait.
Seventeen o'clock was five o'clock and it wasn't far away. In fact, I probably only had time to shower, dress and get myself ready before leaving for the interview.
I folded the paper back up and slipped it into its envelope, reaching for the next parcel with my real name on it. I couldn't help but notice how the seal was slightly bubbly and peeling open, like if someone had to reseal it. The same sort of lined notepaper fell into my hands with the same computer font from the letter I received that morning.
I almost didn't recognize you. What happened to your locket?
P.s. Do you know who I am yet?
"What on earth…?"
Who was sending these notes? They were starting to sound a little unnerving. And after receiving two on the same day, I was beginning to think about the possibilities more. My mouth had gone dry. I folded the note up with the envelope and tossed it aside on my bed, opening up the box of chocolates for Il Dottore, and possibly even considering eating one or two.
When I pried the lid off and looked inside, there was nothing. No chocolates, just nine little empty paper cups. What was that supposed to mean? I knew that the chocolates weren't just a token of appreciation for Il Dottore, they were used as a form of communication. Each chocolate had a name, I'd learned from the slip of paper in Fango's office. And the first letter of each name would communicate a message to the receiver. But this time, Il Capitano sent a box of chocolates missing chocolates? What sort of message was that supposed to communicate? I didn't know. And that bothered me.
I didn't know about the chocolates, I didn't know who was sending the anonymous notes, I didn't know what the password to the safe was and I didn't know who grabbed me on the rooftop the night before. And I wasn't going to tell Sophia about any of it. No, I was going to take a shower.
The water was mostly cold, but I felt that I needed the subtle shock. Afterward, I threw on pajamas and wrapped my wet hair in a towel. I stood in front of my wardrobe with the doors flung open.
I guess I have to wear that red dress. And white gloves and sunglasses. Even though it'll be too dark out for sunglasses.
I smiled and pulled the satiny sleeveless dress off of its hanger, tossing it onto my bed. Then I grabbed my makeup bag and set it on the little desk to the left of the door. For moment I just stood there and looked deep into the mirror, like if it had eyes other than mine staring back. I could almost hear a voice with those words in my head.
I almost didn't recognize you.
I shook my head, sitting down and unzipping my makeup bag, sifting through the different shades of lipstick and blush. I never wore makeup for my own satisfaction. It was tedious, time-consuming and generally looked like it didn't belong on my skin. But for a disguise, I was willing to go through the pains.
Compact mirror. Blush. This one? No. Darker. I started to sweep the brush gently across my right cheek, then the left. Checking it in the mirror. Blending it again. I was closing up the container of blush when the bedroom door was thrown open and the handle almost bashed into my face.
"Oh! Nancy." Helena was back from her errand, apparently. She forced an annoyed smile as she shut the door with a little more grace. "I thought you didn't vear makeup."
"Sometimes." I said, popping the blush back into my bag and rising from my chair.
There were a few moments of silence. Helena dropped her canvas tote on her bed and started looking at something on her phone. I rubbed the fluffy white towel out of my long hair, running my fingers through the tangled ends for a moment. The hair dryer barely worked, and I wondered if I could do without it.
"Are you going to vear that dress?" she asked, looking at the silky red lump like it was a disgraceful thing to behold.
I raise an eyebrow. "Yes…?"
"But you can't be serious. It's positively freezing!"
"I suppose it is." I cleared my throat, running my fingers through another wet tangle. "But I…kind of have to wear that dress."
"Vell here. At least let me help you." Helena locked her phone and set it down on her nightstand, going to her tall oak dresser. She dragged open one of the drawers and pulled out a white cardigan with long sleeves and small buttons.
"Oh, I couldn't."
"No, no. Please." She tossed it onto my bed. "Vhat is a roommate for? You can return it when you get back tonight."
I dragged the towel through my hair again. "Are you sure?"
She nodded.
"Alright," I shrugged. "Thanks."
"Zo." Helena said after a new seconds of quiet. "Anyzing interesting in all that mail?"
I knew she must've been looking at my bed, at all the parcels I'd left there in a messy little pile. But I couldn't hide them from her, now. I was in the bathroom, squeezing pepperminty gunk onto my toothbrush.
"Oh, yeah, I um…I guess." I shrugged, capping the toothpaste with one hand. "Sort of interesting."
Thankfully she was occupied, looking through a folder in her lap when I poked my head out of the bathroom doorway, shoving the toothbrush around in my mouth. I couldn't help feeling a little suspicious as I watched her, flipping through those scribbled papers. I couldn't help but think about the envelope with my name on it—how the flap looked very much like it had been tampered with. I didn't want to blame Helena for something offhanded, but I had to ask anyway. It was my job. My duty.
I turned back to the sink, finished brushing my teeth and quickly rinsed with a mouthwash which I dearly hoped was mine. Then I dried my face and hands and went back to the little desk beside the door.
"Helena..."
"Hmm?"
"That parcel you said you left for me on my bed," I started, looking through the various lip colors in my bag. "I couldn't help but notice that it looked a little bit like someone had opened it already. And sealed it back up."
"Are you accusing me of reading your mail?" my roommate scoffed, sounding thoroughly offended. "Like if I would care what some little teenager's lover decides to write to her."
I felt my shoulders tense slightly at her choice of words. Then I clicked open the mirror, tracing my lips with the dark crimson stain. "I wasn't accusing you, Helena."
She turned a page. Violently.
"I would just appreciate it if you please tend to your own business and leave my mail, be it a letter from my lover or a warrant for my arrest, alone."
The folder snapped shut. Helena stormed to the door, swinging it open.
"And I would appreciate it if you treated me with a little respect."
The door slammed, making Helena's framed picture of herself face-plant on the dresser. I stopped a laugh with my hand, lipsticking my palm. Was it a laughing matter? Not really. But it was funny, nonetheless.
I dried my hair as best I could, stabbed a pair of big silver hoops into my ears, and slipped into the satiny red dress. It was quarter past four and I was making good time. So I decided to do something special with my hair. Or, should I say, fake hair. While my long waves of titian finished drying, I pinned up the blonde wig in a simple, loose up-do, secured by pins with tiny pearl charms on the ends. Seventeen of them, to be exact. I couldn't tell which was worse—pinchy hair pins or itchy wigs. By the time I was done, my real hair was completely dry and the boring blonde wig looked pretty awesome. It took a while (as usual) to secure every lock of titian under the wig, but I managed it all just in time.
It was ten minutes to five o'clock when I slipped Helena's cardigan over my bare arms and checked myself in the mirror once more. The sun was scraping at the windows like an intruder, shooting scars of orange across the walls.
Signore Daniau. I thought about the name for a moment, then I tried it out on my tongue.
"Signore Daniau." I was still looking into the mirror at my smile as I said it, this time a little more in a whisper, "Josiah Daniau."
I refocused, grabbing my white gloves from the desk and letting myself out into the great room, then out the front door and down the steps, into the soft, darkening streets that felt like an oil painting. The lights were reflecting in of the river where the boats sang out like the birds in the vast milky pink overhead. The air was smooth and cool. And my heart was dancing up into my throat. And I didn't know why.
FlightFeathers: Thank you so much for reading, as always! Sorry this chapter is a little late. :)
