Harry turned the corner onto Via del Parione and started down the block. By his watch it was now seven-twenty-five, nearly an hour after Father Bardoni was to have met them at the apartment. As he walked, he tried the cell number again with the phone Adrianna had given him.
Still nothing.
Common sense told him that for one reason or another Father Bardoni had simply been delayed. It was no more complicated than that.
Ahead was number 17, Father Bardoni's building. Behind it, Danny had said, was an alley and, off it, an old wooden gate to the rear entrance of the building itself. To the left of that entrance, and under a potted red geranium, he'd find the key.
Turning down the alley, Harry walked twenty yards and then saw the gate. Opening it, he crossed a small gravel courtyard. The pot was where it was supposed to be. Under it was the key.
Father Bardoni's flat, like the one they were staying in, was on the top floor, and Harry took the back stairs to it quickly. Outwardly, he was still thinking nothing unusual had happened and that there was a simple explanation for Father Bardoni's tardiness. But inwardly, he felt the same as Danny had when he'd burst through the kitchen door. Dread.
Then Harry was at the top of the stairs and turning down a narrow hallway, stopping as he reached Father Bardoni's door. Taking a breath, he put the key in the lock and started to turn it. It wasn't necessary. The door was unlocked, and swung open.
'Father-?'
There was no reply.
'Father Bardoni-' Harry stepped into a darkened hallway. In front of him was a small living room. Like the one in Danny's apartment, little more than utilitarian.
'Father-?'
Still nothing.
To his right was a narrow hallway. There was a door halfway down and one at the end. Both were closed. Taking a breath, he put his hand on the knob to the first door and turned it.
'Father?'
The door swung open to a bedroom. It was little and cramped, with a small window at the back. The bed was made. A phone was on a small table beside it. That was all.
Turning, Harry started out, then he saw a cell phone on the floor next to the bed. The phone Father Bardoni 'always has with him'?
Suddenly Harry was aware of his own presence. Something felt very wrong, as if he didn't belong there. Stepping out of the room, he turned ever so slowly to the other door. What was there? Everything in him told him to leave right then. Walk away. Do anything but open that door.
But he couldn't.
'Father Bardoni,' he said again.
Silence.
Reaching for his handkerchief, he put it around the knob.
'Father Bardoni,' he said loud enough to be heard on the far side of the door.
No reply.
Harry could feel the sweat on his upper lip. The pound of his heart. Slowly he turned the knob. There was a click at the latch and then it opened. He saw the worn white tile of a bathroom floor and then the sink and a corner of the bathtub. Reaching up with his elbow, he pushed the door open the rest of the way.
Father Bardoni sat in the tub. He was naked. His eyes open, staring.
'Father?'
Harry stepped forward. His foot touched something. The priest's black-rimmed glasses were on the floor. Harry's eyes came back to the tub.
There was no water in it.
'Father?' he said under his breath, as if he hoped for a response of some kind. All he could think of was that the priest had started to take a bath and had had a heart attack or seizure of some kind before he'd had a chance to run the water.
One more step forward.
'OH, GOD!'
Harry's heart shot into his mouth, and he backed away quickly, staring wide-eyed in horror. Father Bardoni's left hand had been cut off at the wrist. There was hardly any blood at all. Just a stump where the hand used to be.