Page 32 of The Venice Murders

‘I have, and do we have to talk about Benetti right now?’ He said it with feeling.

‘We do – for a while.’

‘And then?’

She reached across to give him a gentle kiss. ‘Benetti,’ she said, her tone businesslike. ‘Whatwasthe money he referred to, do you think?’

‘All I could imagine was that Massi must have borrowed from him or Benetti gave the pair a gift of cash when they became engaged.’

‘And now he sees it as money wasted.’

‘Well it was. A painful waste, particularly after he’d suffered a collision that wrecked his taxi. He would have had to find a very large sum for that splendid new boat.’

‘I wonder how he did find the money? Perhaps he’s had to go into debt. If so, it’s no wonder he’s unhappy with Bianca. But whatever her shortcomings, it’s evident he’s very proud of her.’

Flora reached up to rearrange the ponytail she’d worn on and off since arriving in Venice – a way to stay cool, she’d discovered – smoothing back the otherwise recalcitrant waves to fasten them neatly with a tortoiseshell buckle clip.

‘Yes, he is proud,’ Jack agreed. ‘In a strange way. And angryforher as well aswithher. Bianca shrugged it off when we spoke to her, but itwasa rejection that she suffered and she’s bound to feel humiliated.’

‘And if she really loved him, desperately upset. No wonder Benetti took up the cudgels on her behalf. It was inevitable he’d tackle Franco face-to-face. When he came here to the Cipriani it was to have it out with the man, but they sent him packing before he could. So instead – why not waylay Franco on his way back from La Zucca that evening?’

‘It’s possible, but how we find out…’

The open windows were an invitation to a breeze that had begun to blow across the lagoon and, refreshed, Jack got to his feet and walked out onto the balcony. For a while, he stood looking out on the busy scene below, watching the stream of boats that plied to and from the city and the islands.

‘The mention of money was interesting,’ he said, walking back into the room, ‘but did you catch what he said about troubles? That stayed in my mind. Were they troubles Bianca encountered when she was in England? He had nothing good to say about her stay there.’

Flora swung her legs onto the sofa and stretched out against the pile of cushions. ‘The remark struck me as odd, too. I wondered if anything happened in Abbeymead or Brighton that we don’t know about. Sally never mentioned any problem. In fact, once Bianca left the village to work at the Old Ship, I don’t think she saw much of the girl – even though they appear to have kept in touch.’

‘If the troubleswereconnected to England, whatever they were, they couldn’t have had anything to do with her meeting Franco. Benetti was quite clear the two of them didn’t meet until she’d returned to Venice.’

‘So…another kind of trouble? I suppose if something serious did occur in England it could have added to the upset Benetti felt over the broken engagement. More fuel for the fire. One thing after another.’ She sat up, tucking her legs beneath her. ‘Jack?—’

‘Don’t ask!’

‘Alan Ridleymightknow something. Bianca must have lived and worked in Sussex for around two years.’

‘Even if we unearthed a problem in England, would it have any bearing on what’s happened since?’

‘You can never tell. How many times do we know when the past has come back to bite people when they least expected it?’

Jack walked back to the sofa and she shuffled along to make room for him. ‘OK.’ He sounded resigned. ‘I’ll ring Brighton police in the morning, after breakfast, and hope to find the inspector in. He won’t be too happy, though – he’s bound to think it trivial.’

‘He could check on them both,’ Flora said, impervious to the warning. ‘Franco as well as Bianca. He worked in London for several years and it would be good to have more information, particularly as no one here is likely to know anything about his life abroad.’

* * *

Each morning, breakfast seemed to take a little longer. The temptation to linger was strong: a flower-strewn terrace, a parasol-shaded table, and boats to watch. So many boats, a fascinating parade constantly in motion. And always an attentive waiter ready to serve them platters of fruit and pastries, jugs of coffee and, for Jack, smoked salmon or a dish of eggs Benedict.

This morning was no different and it was well after ten o’clock before they left the terrace and wandered into the lobby. They’d gone only a few steps before they were hailed by Signor Trentino who, today, was the sole member of staff at the reception desk.

‘You have a message,signore, signora.’ The receptionist held a slip of white paper, fluttering it in the air.

‘The signora did not wish to disturb you at breakfast,’ he said, as they approached, ‘but ask that I give you this.’

Jack took the note from him. ‘It’s from Sally,’ he said briefly, turning to Flora. ‘I guess we were expecting it.’

‘And?’

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