But how was it that she had been discovered, buried deep in the earth, and at the excavation site?

Barello shook his head. That was a matter for the police. Perhaps one of the townsfolk had found her…

and despite the agony of her mother knowing that the girl was missing, the person thought it would be better to hide the body, and let the mother believe that the girl had run away, seeking a life in a larger place, with greater promise.

Antinella came out of the morgue.

"She is… finished for the evening?"

"Yes, resting upon the gurney, sheeted… in the cold," he said sadly. "Tomorrow, we'll bring her to the funeral home… they will embalm her, and she will rest in peace."

"Yes. The poor girl. Imagine! Wolves attacking, now!"

"Yes, wolves attacking. The police will have to put out warnings for anyone traveling out to the cliffs."

"Poor, poor girl!" Barello said.

"Poor, poor girl," Antinella agreed.

He stood on the beach. From there, he had an excellent view of Lena Miro's door.

He waited, biding his time. He had always found it fascinating to stare at the water. If only…

well, there was no "if only." And still, he enjoyed the view, and the feel of the air.

And then…

He saw the maid.

She saw him.

He moved along the path, not even hurrying. The woman just stared at him, like a doe caught in the headlights. She moved aside, allowing him entry, holding the door open for him.

He smiled, and thanked her.

It didn't matter. She would never remember that he had been there.

He entered the cottage, and quietly closed the door behind him.

And started up the stairs.

It was nearly nine when they met for dinner.

By the time Stephanie came into the restaurant, the others had gathered, Liz Henderson among them.

Arturo was at the table, and he was very sad, telling them that there was some news that was a relief, and still sad—and dangerous.

The doctors had just finished with the body of Maria Britto.

"I have to say, I was very, very worried myself!" Arturo was telling them. "The way she was found… but there is not a murderer loose among us. Dr. Barello—the coroner—is certain that she was killed by wild animals. And there! There is where people must worry, and be very, very careful!"

Grant, already seated, stared at Arturo as if the man had gone insane.

"Animals buried the girl?" he said incredulously.

"Well, no, no, of course not!" Arturo said. He shook his head, sighing sadly. "The police will investigate.

Right now, they believe that someone found the girl in a horribly ravaged condition and thought that the kindest thing would be to cover her up."

"Without reporting that she was discovered?" Grant said.

"She was in sad shape."

"I know," Grant said flatly, "but that makes no sense. I'm pretty sure that psychologists and psychiatrists around the world believe that closure in the event of the disappearance of a loved one is far kinder than letting a parent, child, spouse, or any loved one spend the rest of their life wondering what happened!"

"Yes, that's reasonable," Arturo said. "But…" He shrugged. "As I said, the police will search and investigate until they have the answers. In the meantime, and this is most important for you, Grant—be careful! Maria must have gone near the dig site, because there are no wolves in town, I can assure you!"

"I'm sorry, it still makes no sense," Grant said. "A normal person, coming upon that body, would have been horrified. Their first instinct would have been to get the police, get help! And how do you just happen upon a body at a dig? There are people around—even at night, the campsite isn't that far from the excavation areas."

"Yes, but… well, maybe someone was just thinking about the girl's mother—and thought she'd be too horrible to find," Drew suggested.

Grant shook his head. "Sorry—to me, it just doesn't jell."

"Yes, but again, there's really not anything we can do about it," Suzette said. "Except that, Grant, Arturo is right—you have to be very careful out there."

"Right," Grant murmured.

He still wasn't buying it—any of it, Stephanie thought.

"You still think we should go with the show tomorrow night?" Stephanie asked Arturo.

"I think we have to go with the show tomorrow night," Arturo told her. "We have people coming in—they arrive in Naples tomorrow morning, and they'll be here by early afternoon." He brightened slightly. "I will send you some nice red wine—local, naturally. It makes everything better."

He left them.

"It just still seems rather in bad taste," Stephanie murmured.

"Stephanie, the local people are trying very hard to make a success out of this place. They won't be here, of course, but we're planning the show for Americans, and they will come and spend money. It's important for the community," Suzette reminded her.

"I guess," Stephanie murmured.

"Hey, Liz, you're doing great, by the way," Doug said.

"Amazingly so," Drew agreed enthusiastically.

"I told you she'd be fine," Clay said quietly.

"Well, thank you, all of you," Liz said. A waiter brought the wine. There was no pouring of it into one glass to be tasted—this was Arturo's suggestion. It was going to be great. Glasses were passed all around.

"Wait," Grant said, looking across the table. "To Liz—for being in the right place at the right time. It's a little like a miracle."

He sounded genuine. He was not. He was suspicious of Liz, and of Clay. Stephanie determined to ignore him. He was the strange one these days.

"To Liz! With thanks," she said.

Liz Henderson graciously accepted their toast, and told Stephanie then that the dressmaker had brought her costume to her room, and that it was fine. They all agreed that they were ready.

"Hey, has anyone checked in on Lena lately?" Suzette asked.

"I was over there earlier," Grant said.

"How was she?"

He hesitated strangely. "More energetic than I expected." He shook his head. "She needs to see a doctor elsewhere."

"The man here is supposed to be very good," Clay said. "He studied in Paris, Rome, and the States, before deciding that he wanted to be his hometown physician."

"Yes, but… I don't know. We'll have to see, I guess," Grant murmured.

Their conversation turned to the show. Grant gave Stephanie his suggestion for lighting, and told her that he'd be managing that and the music cues from the booth, so they'd have to be careful to see that their own props were placed correctly. Everyone agreed that they'd have no difficulty being responsible for their own pieces.

"Anyway, if we lose something, it will still fit into the improv," Drew said.

"True. The best thing about these shows is that it's possible to make anything work, as long as you remain in character," Grant said.

Arturo sent dessert to the table, and the waiter, bringing espressos, assured them all that it was decaf.

Stephanie noted that they were the last ones dining. She glanced at her watch. It was midnight.

She yawned, excused herself, stretched, and rose. "I hadn't realized it was so late."

"Wait up—everyone gets walked to their cottage, right?" Grant said.

"Everyone? How can we all walk one another?" Drew asked.

"I'll get Stephanie back, Clay can see to Liz, and Drew and Doug can see to Suzette," Grant suggested.

"Good," Drew said, grinning. "And then, Doug, you can walk me back. I'm not big on wolves myself."

"We're not going to run into a wolf on the beach," Doug said, grimacing.

"There are different kinds of wolves, you know," Suzette reminded him.

"True, but apparently, none of you thinks of either of us as the other type," Drew said. "Sadly! So…

come on, Suzette, let's get you tucked in."

"Hey, what about Lena? Shouldn't we check on her?"

"I'll go see her," Stephanie volunteered.

"What if she's sleeping?" Grant asked, a little sharply.

"I have a key to her room," Suzette said. "She has one to mine, too. We thought it was a good idea when we checked in—we're both pretty capable of misplacing them, and that way, we wouldn't find ourselves locked out." She dug in her purse and handed the key to Stephanie. "You can give it back to me sometime tomorrow, okay?"

"Yep. Good night, then," Stephanie said.

They all started out the back together. Grant was silent as they headed for Lena's. "What's wrong with you?" Stephanie asked him.

"Lena was very, very strange before," he said. "I'll wait downstairs for you, if you don't mind."

Stephanie frowned, looking at him. "You don't want to see her for yourself?"

"As I said, she was very, very strange."

"How?"

Grant stopped walking, waiting until he was certain the others were out of earshot. "She tried to… come on to me."

"What?"

"Believe me, I don't mean this as any kind of an ego trip. She tried to… come on to me," he explained again.

"Grant, she likes you—she was just flirting. She's sick, remember?" Stephanie said.

"Stephanie, she grabbed me!"

"You're sure?" Stephanie asked, staring at him, and very surprised by the situation. Lena just wasn't the type. She might flirt and laugh, but…

"Yes, I'm sure." He took the key from Stephanie's fingers and opened the door. "You go on up. I'll be right here."

Grant was behaving odder and odder. Still, Stephanie didn't want to argue with him any more that night.