“You got her address?” she asked Wyatt.

  “It’s coming through now,” he replied. A moment later, his phone beeped and Juliette stood up.

  "Sierra, I think you should stay here. We need to keep researching the helium sales angle, and finding out who the major vendors are here, who's been buying it, and especially who's authorized to sell it. And tracking those balloon scraps to see if there’s a starting point or a direction. There’s a lot for you to do.”

  “There is,” Sierra agreed.

  Juliette and Wyatt headed out, hustling for the car.

  She knew this wasn't likely to be an easy confrontation. Morgana would be distressed, upset, grieving. She felt a pang of sympathy for the woman who had lost her husband in such a shocking way, and who now had to deal with the police on top of everything else. But they would have to gently persist and try to get to the core of the matter - why her husband? Why Claudio Pitti?

  That was what they now needed to discover.

  Hoping they could get there fast, before the morning traffic held Naples in its gridlock, Juliette got behind the wheel and veered straight out onto the road.

  She followed the route to Morgana's house, which was on the opposite side of the city, further inland, and away from the busiest, densest part of the city. The road led them around the city, rather than through. Even so, at this hour, tailbacks were starting to form, and Juliette drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as she drove, her mind racing with questions she needed to ask Morgana Pitti.

  Finally, they arrived at the address they had been given. It was a small apartment building in a quiet neighborhood.

  “This is it,” she said, pulling up outside.

  “Let’s see what the wife has to say,” Wyatt agreed.

  The apartment building was quintessentially European, with wrought iron balconies that had planters with geraniums and roses, and a ginger cat sitting on the stone paving outside the building, washing its face.

  Juliette gave the cat a careful glance as they got out of the car. Even in Italy, she resolved there would be no stray animals on her watch. But this cat looked sleek and well-fed and was wearing a collar. As she watched, it turned and jumped up onto the windowsill of the nearest apartment, where it wiggled its way through the partly open window and resumed its ablutions behind the glass.

  "I always worry about them," Juliette confessed to Wyatt as they hurried into the lobby.

  “I like that you care for cats,” he said, sounding momentarily less stressed.

  They made their way up the stairs to the second floor, where Morgana Pitti's apartment was located.

  Juliette knocked on the door, and a woman in her early thirties opened it. She had dark hair, tied back in a messy ponytail, and red, puffy eyes. She looked like she hadn't slept all night. Behind her was a woman who looked a couple of decades older with graying hair, but Juliette could see the family resemblance and guessed this was her mother, who'd arrived on the scene to look after her.

  "We are FBI agents Thompson and Hart," Juliette said, showing her badge. "Are you Morgana Pitti?"

  The dark woman nodded, glancing behind her at the older woman, her eyes filling with tears.

  Then, in Italian, Juliette continued. "I am so sorry this has happened. Please accept our condolences. Are you able to answer a few questions?"

  The mother moved forward, placing her hands protectively onto her daughter's shoulders.

  "She is very upset, but yes, we want to help the police. This is so shocking," she replied in English.

  "I will try to answer," Mrs. Pitti said, taking a shaky breath. She, too, spoke good English, so Juliette decided that this questioning could proceed in English, which meant Wyatt could participate fully.

  "Can we sit down somewhere?"

  Morgana Pitti frowned as if the thought of sitting hadn't even occurred to her. She turned, as if in a dream, and led the way down the corridor and into a compact living room. The curtains were closed, and the mother walked over to open them, allowing the morning sun to brighten the room, which was decorated in a modern style with blues and grays.

  "You have heard the details?" Juliette didn't want to repeat them if Morgana was already aware. She nodded, still looking disoriented, as if this hadn't yet sunk in.

  "I can't understand it. This feels like a dream. How can anyone do such a thing?" she asked incredulously.

  Juliette could see the pain etched on Morgana's face, and she felt a pang of sympathy for the woman. She knew that the next few minutes were going to be tough, but it was necessary to get to the heart of the matter.

  Her mother sat down protectively next to her as Juliette continued.

  "We understand this is difficult, but we need your help to find out more about your husband's recent activities. Was he involved in anything that could have led to this?" Juliette asked gently. "Were there any problems in his life?"

  Morgana leaned into her mother's embrace and took a deep breath before responding.

  "I don't know of any enemies. Claudio was not a man who made enemies. He had his own business, but it was just a small import-export company - he exported coffee and wine to Australia, where his brother lives. He didn't have any dealings with the Mafia or anything like that," Morgana said, her voice shaking.

  “Did he have any recent business dealings that were out of the ordinary?" Wyatt asked.

  Morgana thought for a moment before shaking her head. "No, nothing out of the ordinary.”

  "Was he involved with anyone who worked with helium or who manufactured balloons? Any contacts there?" Juliette asked.

  But Morgana shook her head blankly. "He had no interest in balloons, and I don't know of any of his associates with worked with helium, or who sold it."

  "Was your husband a big man? Tall?" she asked. It had been impossible to judge the size of that crumpled body on the blacktop this morning.

  Morgana shook her head. "Shorter than average, and not a fat person," she explained.

  Perhaps that was important, given the number of balloons that would be needed to lift a man's weight, Juliette thought.

  "Do you know what he was doing last night?" Juliette said, wondering if this could help to trace the killer.

  But now, Morgana started crying even harder and her mother glowered at Juliette as if this painful subject had been all her fault.

  "He - sometimes, I know, he - used to pick up younger women,” Morgana sobbed. “I knew about it, that he was doing it. I saw cash slips from some of the well-known pick-up bars, in his pockets, I saw lipstick on his collar, a couple of times there were other things, too - I think he kept them for the memories."

  Juliette's heart sank. This was not the answer she had been hoping for. The husband had been picking up young women, while drunk, in a crowded tourist bar. Perhaps the killer had chosen that hunting ground because of its anonymity and the ease of being able to follow someone who was drunk, and focused only on the hunt for young willing partners.

  She could see Wyatt pressing his lips together, acknowledging the same thing. They weren't making progress here.

  "Thank you," Juliette said. "If you think of anything else that could be helpful, please call us at any time."

  Morgana nodded, still looking dazed and tearful.

  Juliette got up, feeling even sorrier for Morgana with the double shock of having to face the fact that her husband was a cheater, as well as his terrible death. But she was beginning to think that these victims were randomly chosen. Perhaps height and weight were the most important starting point, and he was picking the victims for their ability to fly high.

  As she stood up, her phone rang.

  It was Sierra calling and Juliette picked it up quickly.

  "I've been doing some research," Sierra said, sounding excited.

  "What do you have?" Juliette asked her eagerly.

  "I've been looking into the licenses for people who are authorized to sell goods in public. There are a few kiosks that sell helium balloons, and one man here who specializes in the large size ones. His name is Giovanni Fabio. I then went into the police databases, and guess what?" She sounded triumphant. "He has a record."

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Giovanni Fabio, a man with a criminal record? Excitement flared inside Juliette as she thought about the boxes he checked.

  He had broken the law, he worked with large size balloons, and he had access to helium gas. Their hunt, briefly stalled, was now speeding forward again.

  "Tell us more about Giovanni Fabio," Juliette said, turning her phone onto speaker as she and Wyatt rushed out to the car. “What record does he have?”

  "He's been arrested for assault," Sierra continued. "He spent two days in police custody. It looks like the charges were eventually dropped. But he's clearly a violent man."

  Juliette's mind raced as she considered the implications of this information. "Do you have an address for him? I guess he'd be out on the streets now, selling balloons? Where does he operate from?"

  "It says here that he normally sets up shop in the Piazza San Gaetano." Sierra paused. "That's where the Naples Underground tours depart from."

  "The underground tours?"

  "Yes, it says here that the city has a below-ground layer of aqueducts and tunnels that were used as air raid shelters during the world war. Apparently there's even an ancient underground theater. It seems like a very popular tourist destination, and I guess that's why he bases himself there."

  Juliette felt grateful for the information. At least they knew what they were heading into.

  She and Wyatt climbed into the car, which already felt warm from the morning sun blazing on the windshield. It was going to be a hot day here in Naples, and now that it was daytime, she was noticing the difference in temperature between here and Paris. Naples was sunnier and warmer, benefiting from its more southern location on the Tyrrhenian coastline.

  "Piazza San Gaetano is about a ten-minute drive from here," Juliette said, as Wyatt took the wheel.

  As they drove towards Piazza San Gaetano, Juliette couldn't help but feel a sense of purpose. This was the first time they were actively pursuing a suspect, and she wanted this to go smoothly. Already, there was going to be fear fomenting in the area, and the word would be out that strange, brutal murders were happening here. They had no idea what kind of person Giovanni Fabio was or how he would react when confronted. They would need to be careful.

  And in an area with large crowds, Juliette also knew that they couldn't allow him to run for it. It was all too easy for a fleeing fugitive to melt into a big crowd, and always more difficult for law enforcement to follow.

  As they pulled up to the Piazza San Gaetano, which was in the middle of Naples' historic center, they could see it was fairly busy, with a scattering of people. Tourists were milling around, taking pictures, and admiring the ancient architecture. It was a beautiful square, with a massive statue on a huge, white plinth dominating one side and several cafés and restaurants lining the others. In the middle of the square were several covered areas where traders had set up shop.

  As soon as Juliette walked into the square, she saw the colorful balloons bobbing in the air. Giovanni Fabio's kiosk was easy to spot, with its large, brightly painted sign advertising helium balloons. Beyond that, the oversized balloons swung and bounced in the air. Easily two feet in diameter, they were available in plain colors and in shades of the Italian flag - swirls of red, white, and green. They were very eye-catching, and the eight or ten inflated balloons were fastened to the metal railing with strong, thin nylon string.

  Juliette took a good look at that string, wondering if it was the same one used on the victims' wrists. It looked very similar.

  They headed past a gelato kiosk, with the tasty scoops of ice cream already causing a short queue of customers to form. There was music in the square, too. A band was playing opera tunes - Juliette recognized the distinctive melody of Nessun Dorma, and a moment later, a large, bearded man began singing the words in an excellent tenor voice.

  She briefly allowed herself a moment of appreciation for the music.

  Could she ever learn to play the violin? Or would it just sound like an angry cat? She felt more and more determined to try her hand at it, to take some lessons, now that she was in Europe, the cultural capital of the world, in her appreciative view. Plus, she’d made a deal with Wyatt. That had set her on course for a musical future, caterwauling or not.

  Everyone in the square seemed set up for a good, brisk trade on a summer's day. She saw a kiosk selling pizza slices that advertised it as "Napoli's Best," and another kiosk selling sangria in plastic glasses, with ice and mint. The smell of the red wine and fruit, though not a familiar morning smell to Juliette, was sweet and refreshing as she breathed it in on her way past.

  But there was a muted feeling in this square. That, she sensed. She was wondering if, on a beautiful morning like this, a public place should have been busier. Were these murders already having an effect?

  She heard two women speaking together in Italian as she passed.

  "My group canceled," she heard one say. "I was supposed to take a catacombs tour this morning but they are skipping over that because of these murders."

  "I don't feel safe here," her friend said, and Juliette shivered.

  "They really do know how to create nice tourist places in Europe," Wyatt said, sounding surprised and approving. "However, there's a hundred places for this guy to run to, and although I guess this square could be busier, there are still too many people for my liking. We need to be very alert for him trying to flee from us," he said.

  "Agreed," Juliette said.

  A small child, holding a cotton candy stick about twice the size of her head, tottered past Juliette, followed by a mother shrieking instructions in what sounded like German. She tuned into the language almost without thinking.

  "Come back here!" the mother was shouting. "It's not safe for you to go around on your own, Gertie."

  Most definitely, there was a feeling of fear, and the small signs were already there. She had no doubt that as time ticked on, with no killer found, larger damage would quickly result.

  Juliette stepped aside, avoiding a collision course at knee height with the rogue cotton candy stick, and then they were past the other kiosks, and she and Wyatt were making their way briskly to Giovanni Fabio himself.

  He was a large man, with a thick neck and broad shoulders. His face was unsmiling, with heavy brows and sunglasses, giving him a menacing appearance.

  He was busy inflating a balloon with a helium tank, his eyes fixed on his work, but almost as if he had a sixth sense about them, he turned toward Juliette and Wyatt when they approached.

  Juliette approached him with caution, noting the way he stood with his arms crossed over his chest, as if he were guarding something. Already, he'd noticed they were police officers, she guessed, even though they were not in traditional Italian police uniform. It seemed he had an instinct for sniffing out law enforcement, and it was something that Juliette always associated with criminal tendencies.

  "Mr. Fabio? We were wondering if we could ask you a few questions," Juliette said, taking out her badge and holding it up for him to see.

  "What's this about?" Fabio asked, finally looking up at them. His eyes were cold and suspicious.

  "We're investigating a series of murders that have taken place in the area," Wyatt said, stepping forward. "We understand that you work with large size balloons, and we were hoping you could help us with our investigation."

  Giovanni Fabio's eyes flickered, and Juliette could see him weighing his options. She tensed, ready for anything.

  "I don't know anything about any murders," Fabio said, his voice rising. "I just sell balloons."

  Juliette could see the sweat starting to bead on his forehead. She knew he was evading the question, denying it automatically, and she could feel the tension in the air growing thicker. She decided to push a little harder.

  "Are you sure about that?" she asked, stepping closer to him. "Maybe you were threatened or coerced into doing something that you didn't want to do?"

  Fabio's eyes darted from Juliette to Wyatt and back again. Juliette could tell that he was weighing his options.

  "If you don't cooperate with us, we'll have no choice but to take you in for questioning," she said, her tone firm.

  "I will cooperate," he said calmly, moving around to the back of the kiosk to let himself out, and Juliette relaxed. He wasn't going to run.

  But as she let out her breath, Fabio played his ace.

  "I will cooperate, but not with you! FBI? What is this madness?"

  Now, all the fear she'd sensed inside him was visibly on display. And as he opened the latch of his balloon kiosk, he set off in the other direction, flying across the square.

  He wasn't heading for any exit point. As Juliet launched herself after him, muffling a heartfelt oath as she ran, she saw to her consternation that he was heading underground.

  This chase was going to take place in Naples' hidden tunnels, and she feared this would give him the chance he needed to escape.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  "He's going underground!" Juliette yelled. Abandoning his cart and his helium, the balloon salesman was racing toward the underground city's entrance.

  Flashing his own badge, which clearly gave him access to this point as a vendor, he leaped over the low turnstile that was in place to control the crowds, and then, he disappeared into the darkness of a subterranean tunnel.

  "Police!" Racing up behind him, Juliette flashed her own badge, vaulting the turnstile as the shocked attendant began screaming out protests.

  There was no time to stop or explain. This was now an urgent chase, because they were racing down hundreds of stone stairs into a dimly lit, and surprisingly cold, subterranean world. Juliette's feet thudded down the stairs, and she caught herself just in time, almost slipping and falling on the well-worn, smooth stones.

  Then she flung herself forward again to resume the chase. Finally, they were down the stairs and into the underground world of Naples. She breathed in the cool and strangely stale smelling air, staring frantically around her as she tried to work out where he was in this otherworldly environment.