With his arms around me, I fell asleep, and I dreamed.The white coach, pulled by two perfectly matched gray geldings, rolled away from the Master's house, with Dom its sole occupant. He was holding a box containing all his possessions, save the clothes on his back. He was leaving his home of the past two years. But he was never going back to the life of a butcher's errand boy who was the shoemaker's son. That life was over. His new home was to be the house of one of the Master's greatest patrons, a nobleman who had noticed Dom's talent with the violin (or was it his beauty?) and told the Master that when the boy's usefulness to the studio was ended, he would take him into his own household for further training. Dom would never be noble himself, but with his skills and education he would easily find a place in Italy's burgeoning middle class.The trip took four hours. When he arrived at the Count's palace, he was taken inside and greeted by an attractive woman named Donetta. Donetta. She was staring out the windshield and not saying much. That was OK, though. Most people try to fill a silence when they're together, but this silence was comfortable. In fact, I'd say the atmosphere in the car was just plain comfortable. The ordeal was over and we hadn't had to face the dragon lady.It was about to get a lot less comfortable.I had decided to take I-75 north to I-80, instead of going back on I-70, because I didn't want to have to deal with rush hour traffic in Indianapolis. I had been this way on this case before, and I knew that you could take Highway 33 from Wapakoneta northwest through Decatur to Fort Wayne, which was a shortcut, since I-75 fades way east before you get to I-80.We were about ten miles away from Wapakoneta when she turned to me."You've spent a lot of time and money on this case," she said."Uh huh," I replied."So ... how much do I owe you?"I drove on for another minute or so. I knew what I wanted in payment, but I couldn't ask for that. She'd call me.
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