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said as he straightened the map, “snagged the stuff from the museum in Poland. They had intended to vacation in Venice, the City of Love.” He gave that label a dramatic tone.
    Annja stepped forward, drawn into the man’s tale. And yet... “How do you know the thieves were lovers? A man and a woman?”
    “It was in the police report. They were arrested, Creed. You should do your homework.”
    She usually did. The police report should have been included in the dossier. She’d have to look into it as soon as she got a few minutes to fire up the laptop.
    “But the man mistook the woman’s intentions—he thought she wanted a break from their relationship as much as he—and his partner revolted against him. An argument ensued as they were taking a gondola ride down the Fondamenta della Sensa, very near here.”
    Scout circled the map where the boat was currently docked.
    “As an act of spite, the woman tossed the attaché over the side of the gondola and took off. The man searched for it at the time, but it was hopeless that late at night. The case had been lost. Unbeknownst to both, the gondolier, a part-time fireman who spoke English well, called in the matter to his policeman friends. The couple, while escaping the city separately, were arrested, one at the Milan airport. The other managed to make it all the way to New York City, where a police escort waited for him.”
    “Don’t tell me the gondolier didn’t try to find the dropped attaché?” Annja asked. “It should be fairly obvious that what was dropped would stay in the area.”
    “The tides are pretty strong here. Only one more canal paralleling us, and we’re northernmost in the city.”
    “Yes, but the moon is waning. We should be safe from high tides while we’re here,” Annja noted. “Whatever happened to the gondolier?”
    Scout shrugged. “Still working the canals? The police reports reveal he had an idea that the couple was arguing about something that had been stolen. He wasn’t aware of what had happened with the case, until the man asked him to cruise back down the canal in search of it. So it’s been established he did not witness the drop into the canal, either. As well, he had no clue what was in the case. And the police did not divulge that information to him.”
    Annja gazed out over the water. The scent was not unpleasant, though tendrils of rotting wood and sea flora lingered in the air. This canal was quiet, the sidewalk on one side wide and inviting for tourists; the opposite side featured only a small ledge, perhaps two feet wide but in some spots it narrowed to a foot, the docking worn from years of water running over it.
    “Like you said, the canal is not that deep,” Annja said. “And despite the tides, if anyone wanted to find something that had been dropped half a year ago, I suspect it wouldn’t take long. And you just went down.”
    “Yes, but only to test the equipment. The waters are dark. This headlamp only beams about two, three feet before me. It’ll take some time to scour the area. Come on, Creed, where’s your sense of adventure?”
    “Oh, I’ve got it in spades. You have a permit to dive here?”
    She scanned the stone-fronted buildings, marking most as private residences. Here and there were canal garages, which she expected would provide an excellent nook for a lost suitcase surfing the tidal rhythms to wedge into. She briefly wondered if a resident had already come upon the case while using their private dock. A few were under construction and, she guessed, unoccupied at the moment.
    “I did get permission to dive, Creed. And the authorities know exactly what it is I’m diving for. It’s all aboveboard, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
    “That’s what they all say. And then they disappear.”
    “Do I detect a bruised ego? Perhaps a tragic romance in your past for such a reaction?”
    “Please. I don’t know you, Roberts, so I won’t be sharing.”
    “What do I have to do to earn