Free The Disappearance of Grace by Vincent Zandri Page A

slippery slope. I’m blind now and suffering from something no one understands. Least of all me or Grace. Maybe it has been too much for her. Maybe she is still hopelessly in love with Andrew. Or maybe the man in the overcoat has everything to do with her disappearance.
    â€œDetective,” I say, “I know what you are trying to tell me, and despite some arguments, I assure you, Grace and I are very much in love and very solid.”
    â€œI see,” he says, lighting another cigarette. “Well, then, you are sure about the strange overcoat man you saw yesterday and today?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œHave you seen him at any other time while in Venice?”
    I try and think for a moment. But there’s nothing to think about.
    â€œI can’t recall. But we definitely spotted him yesterday and today.”
    â€œBut you, yourself, did not actually see him with your own eyes.”
    â€œNo, I did not. But Grace did. He wasn’t hiding from us.”
    â€œNo other strangers have come your way, then?” he pushes.
    â€œNo,” I repeat. But then I catch myself. “Wait. There is something.”
    â€œI’m listening, Captain.”
    â€œPhone calls,” I say. “We’ve received some phone calls at the apartment that’s been rented on our behalf. When we answered the phone, the person on the other end would simply say ‘I. See.’ To be honest, I thought it was some kind of prank or joke because of my, uh, condition. My…malady.”
    He’s writing something down again. I hear the scribbling.
    â€œHow often has this man called?”
    â€œA couple times. Maybe three.”
    He writes that down.
    â€œWhat is your number?”
    â€œI don’t know it, to be honest. We don’t use that phone. I use my mobile.”
    â€œYes, land lines are becoming extinct. Like the old paperback books and vinyl records.”
    â€œDo you think there could be a connection between the phone calls and Grace’s disappearance?”
    â€œPerhaps,” he admits. “But we will have to trace the calls first and find their origin. We can do that now when we escort you back to your apartment.”
    I nod.
    â€œOh, yes, and, Captain, does Grace have any family? Sisters, brothers, parents?”
    â€œAn older sister and a younger brother. Parents are dead. She doesn’t communicate with her siblings as far as I know.”
    He writes something down yet again.
    â€œHold off on notifying them for now, assuming you were thinking of it. We wouldn’t want to alarm them unnecessarily. The same goes for Grace’s ex-husband, again, assuming you are thinking of it.”
    I picture Andrew. Tall, thin, with black hair. He wears eyeglasses with thick black rims. A forty-something, perpetual college student. Lives in New York City down in Chinatown where it’s cheap. Teaches at the University, writes articles for The Village Voice , and eats his heart out over losing Grace to me.
    The detective stands.
    I stand.
    He comes around and takes my arm. As he leads me towards the door of his office, he asks what the prognosis is for the return of my eyesight.
    â€œFifty/fifty,” I reveal.
    He issues another one of those light laughs.
    â€œIf I were a betting man, Captain Angel,” he says, “I would enjoy those odds. I would be optimistic.”
    As he opens the office door, I consider asking him what the odds are of finding Grace. But knowing I might not like the answer, I decide not to.

Chapter 16
    I’M ESCORTED BACK TO my apartment above the bookshop in a wooden police boat that might pass for a sleek Garwood motorboat back in New York. I’m well aware of this because I’ve been quick to notice the boats during my brief moments of sight. They are permanent floating fixtures on the never still Grand Canal.
    The two uniformed cops doing the escorting don’t speak a word to me other than what’s necessary. Things