Page 13 of The Venice Murders

‘There is a family in the village where I served for many years,’ Renzi began. ‘A small town really. And they have a son, Luigi. A few years ago, he was caught thieving and was put into jail.’

‘Is he still in prison?’ Flora was quick to ask, suspecting that Luigi might have returned to his old habits.

The priest shook his head. ‘The boy has served his sentence. He was released over a year ago.’

‘A free man then, but is he still thieving? Could he have stolen the painting?’ Jack brought her suspicions out into the open. It was the same question, Flora reflected, that she had asked the count.

‘I cannot believe it,’ the priest said. ‘Why would he do such a thing? He stole before and looked what happened. To risk prison again for a painting he could not sell? The Rastello is famous and no dealer would touch it.’

‘Unless the boy had contact with a professional gang, willing and able to move pictures around Europe. A lucrative smuggling racket exists between here and Albania, I know.’

‘Howdoyou know?’ Flora was intrigued.

‘From research I did for a book. I was sure it would come in useful! Under Enver Hoxha Albania is a closed country, but there are always openings for men who want money, and Albania has an interesting coastline: a wild landscape and a profusion of rocky coves where a boat can land unseen.’

Flora frowned. Albanian smugglers or not, she was still trying to fathom the priest’s involvement. ‘Father Renzi, what role did you play in the boy’s story?’

The elderly man looked blankly across the square as though seeing a very different scene, and it was minutes before he spoke. ‘Ah, there you have it,’ he said at last. ‘It was the role I played for which I have suffered.’

There was another long silence. ‘It was an ambitious theft that landed the boy in trouble. Too ambitious. I think Luigi had been stealing for some time, small items from neighbours’ houses and then he would sell them at a market somewhere. But he met a man new to the area one night in a bar – he was celebrating a birthday – and this man was more experienced at burglary. He had grander plans than stealing the neighbours’ small possessions. Together, they broke into the palazzo of one of the richest men in our district. Nino Vitali is a businessman from Turin and uses his palazzo only for holidays, but he is a wealthy collector and the house contained many objects of value.’

‘And these two stole from it?’

‘They tried, but the palazzo had far more alarms than they expected, and they had to run, very quickly – it meant they could steal only a little. Also there were dogs.’ The priest gave a small shudder at the thought. ‘They fled, but Luigi Tasca was seen by one of the servants Vitali keeps at the house. A steward. He was certain that he saw two men running and one that he recognised – Tasca – but the light was not good and there was a small doubt.’

‘And his accomplice – the experienced burglar?’

‘The police went straight to him, of course. He was well-known to them, but they found nothing in his rooms and no evidence against him. He swore that he was at home that night and had no idea where Luigi was. It was only the steward’s evidence that suggested the man was lying.’

‘But how did this affectyou?’ She was struggling to form a clear picture.

‘The police came calling on Tasca and he gave me as his alibi. He said he had been at my house at the time of the burglary. He had gone looking for his friend, Matteo – Matteo Pretelli is Filomena’s nephew and the two boys were very good friends. They often used to meet at Filomena’s apartment, the one she had in my house.’

‘Matteo’s aunt is Filomena?’ Jack checked. A longer cast of characters than he’d expected was beginning to unfold.

‘Exactly.’ Father Renzi looked pleased at his understanding. ‘Luigi Tasca said he intended that evening to go to Matteo’s house to look for his friend, but then decided he was more likely to find him at his aunt’s apartment. When he got to my house, however, Matteo wasn’t there and Luigi did not see his friend. Instead, he told the police that he saw me. Or, at least, that I saw him. At precisely the time the robbery was committed.’

‘Why didn’t he keep to his original plan of going to his friend’s house? He could have said that he met Matteo there at the time he was supposed to have broken into the palazzo and Pretelli would likely have lied for him. Much simpler.’ Jack shielded his eyes from a sun that had emerged from behind the parasol.

‘I have no idea but, if he had done so, it would not have been as simple as you say. His alibi would have been destroyed immediately – Matteo had travelled to Milan for the day and could not possibly have seen him.’

‘But when he usedyouas his alibi?’ Flora prompted.

‘Ah, yes, I am coming to this. It is where the problem arrives. I denied that I had seen him and from that moment I became the enemy of the Tasca family. They blamed me for the disaster that overtook their son and took their revenge.’

‘The count mentioned something of that. But what exactly happened?’

‘It is painful to talk of.’

‘If we’re to be any help,’ Flora said, ‘we should know.’

The priest put down his glass, the drink untouched. ‘I was caught in a trap. The Tasca family were my devoted parishioners and I liked them personally. They are a large family but always they come to mass and the children attend bible class every Sunday. If I denied that I had seen Luigi, the boy’s alibi would fall to pieces and it would be the steward’s word against his. Who would the jury believe?’

‘His alibi collapsed and they believed the steward?’ Jack hazarded.

‘The jury did. And the family never forgave me for my refusal to help.’

‘But you couldn’t tell a deliberate lie. Not as a priest,’ Flora protested.

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