Page 26 of Be Still My Unbeating Heart

De Luca’s eyebrows drew together, and he blew out an exasperated breath. “What do you mean,when we meet him again?”

“Well, if Emilio is as concerned about us finding his underground love bunker as I think he is, he’ll want to tell the other members of the League. All we have to do is wait for him to finishhis shift and follow him wherever he goes. He’ll lead us right to them, and one of them could be our killer.”

De Luca said nothing, but his breathing had settled. Perhaps he thought Bastian’s logic was sound, that following Emilio was a good idea, but he refused to admit it. He was still angry at Bastian for intruding on his investigation. He must see that they both wanted the same thing, though.

“Inspector, I didn’t mean to undermine you with Emilio,” Bastian said. “I simply played the card I was dealt. Ihadto be the good cop because, well, I’m not sure anybody has ever told you this, but you can be a littleintense. But it all worked out, so…truce?”

He held out a hand to De Luca. The inspector stared at it as if suspecting a trick, but Bastian wasn’t smiling or laughing. He dipped his Wayfarers to give De Luca his most earnest stare. It seemed to have some effect because the strained look on De Luca’s face eased a fraction.

“If we do this,” De Luca said, “we do it my way.”

“Absolutely, darling.”

De Luca’s nostrils flared. Finally, he rubbed his forehead, the heat leaving his voice as he said, “Fine.”

They shook hands.

“And don’t call me darling.”

The inspector’s grip was firm. His touch caused Bastian’s fingers to glow with warmth. The man had nice fingers, Bastian thought, admiring his smooth, square nails with their little half-moons. He shook himself. He really had to stop noticing things like that. The inspector was gruff and moody and hot-tempered, and Bastian didn’t need any of those things in his life right now. He had enough on his plate.

This tension between them, though…it was kind of exciting. It was a long time since Bastian had felt anything like it.

“First, we should question the angry ex, Matteo,” he said,searching through the window to see if the waiter was still on shift.

“We can’t touch Matteo,” De Luca grunted.

Bastian put a hand on his hip. “Why not?”

“He’s the commissario’s son.”

Bastian emitted a delirious laugh. “Of course he is! Got to love small towns. I knew that scowl was familiar.” He shook his head. “It’s often the boyfriend, you know, Inspector. We could save ourselves a lot of hassle by questioning him—”

“We can’t. Zappa will have my badge, and he’ll guard you himself while he waits for the council to arrive.”

The muscle in Bastian’s jaw flickered in frustration, but then he realized something, and a smile spread across his lips.

“For a moment there it almost sounded like you believed I’m innocent.”

De Luca rubbed his neck and swallowed, and Bastian couldn’t help thinking it was sort of adorable, that nervousness. He pushed away the thought, couldn’t think about De Luca like that.

He glanced down the sunny street, searching.

“If Matteo is off-limits, our focus now should be staking out somewhere nearby while we wait for Emilio to leave work—ah!” He spotted a shop with a pink-and-white awning on the corner. Agelateria, far enough away from Micio Micio that they should go unnoticed, but close enough that they shouldn’t have a problem keeping an eye on the place.

“Inspector,” Bastian said, trying not to think about the warmth fading from his hand, “would you care for an ice cream?”

10

The woman behind the counter wore a pin-striped, pink-and-cream apron over a white blouse. A silver cross necklace hung around her neck. She looked like a Disney princess brought to life, her skin sun-kissed, her smile as sweet as the cinnamon that scented the air of the gelateria. Bastian guessed she was in her midtwenties, but the older he got, the more everybody younger looked the same.

“Buongiorno,” the woman said, threading a strand of honey-colored hair behind her ear as she slotted a tray of purple ice cream into place behind the glass. Her smile dropped as she looked past Bastian to De Luca, who had come into the store with furtive eyes.

“Nicolas?” the woman said, her tone a thousand degrees cooler. Bastian remembered that was De Luca’s first name.

“Arianna,” he grunted, squeezing his cap between his hands. He looked like his clothes had shrunk a couple of sizes.

“What brings you to this part of town?” she asked, wiping down the counter, not looking at the inspector. “Surely you haven’t developed a taste for gelato?”