Page 51 of The Venice Murders

They found their driver at the café when, after a weary walk from the farm, they arrived back at the main square. In their absence, Signor Gallo had made himself comfortable, the littered table evidence of a succession of coffees and sweet treats. But whenever they gave him the signal, he said, he was ready to leave.

The drive back to Venice was uneventful, though made longer by several hold-ups in the traffic and it was sunset before they arrived at the Piazzale Roma. With Flora huddled against him, Jack had been guilty of dozing intermittently for most of the journey, and it was only the driver swinging open the passenger door that woke him fully.

Waving farewell to Signor Gallo, he gave himself a mental shake. The day had had its bright spots – the beauty of the town, in particular – and, in terms of their investigation, it hadn’t disappointed entirely. But neither had it proved to be the key Flora had hoped. Their holiday was coming to a close, they had only a few more days in Venice and, rather than chasing shadows, they should be making the very best of the time they had left. He tried to focus.

‘Avaporettoride along the Grand Canal?’ he suggested, as they walked out of the Piazzale. ‘It’s likely to be spectacular at this time of day.’

‘It’s our only option, isn’t it?’ Flora asked, her voice flat. She sounded very tired and unusually dispirited.

Itwasthe only choice, Jack admitted, there being no easy way of telephoning the Cipriani but, with luck, it would prove a cheering end to a day in which their fortunes had been mixed.

As they neared thevaporettostop, a vessel had already arrived, and a stream of passengers were cramming aboard. Holding hands, they ran for it, Jack making sure they took the two open seats left vacant at the rear of the craft. The view would be everything. Lights were already blazing along the canal as they made a slow progress towards St Mark’s: elegantpalazzilit from top to toe, their reflections glittering across the canal, bringing its waters alive; brightly welcoming restaurants, their terraces decked in a profusion of fairy lights; and the boats, even the boats, plying their evening trade, had become vessels of gold. It was as breathtaking as he’d hoped.

Flora was now wide awake, her eyes everywhere. She’s forgotten her tiredness, he thought, forgotten her disappointment at how little progress they seemed to have made; both of them rendered silent by the sheer beauty of an extraordinary city.

Once at St Mark’s, they made the short walk to the familiar telephone box, still feeling no need to talk but in perfect amity. A call to the hotel had them swept across the lagoon and, in a short time, anchoring at the landing steps of the Cipriani.

In the foyer, a surprise awaited them.

‘Sally! Youhavefound time to say goodbye!’ Flora exclaimed. ‘How nice. But won’t you miss your train?’

‘I’ve had to change my ticket. I’m staying the night and leaving first thing in the morning. It’s Bianca. Something awful.’

Jack’s heart sank. More complications, he foresaw, as Flora guided her friend to one of the foyer’s sizeable chairs. She reached out and gently touched Sally’s arm.

‘Tell me what’s happened.’

‘It’s Bianca’s father.’ Sally’s eyes filled with tears and she fumbled for a handkerchief. ‘The poor girl. She’s distraught.’

‘Piero Benetti?’ Flora asked, sounding uncertain.

Sally nodded. ‘He’s dead, Flora. He just collapsed and died – right there in their kitchen.’

It was Jack who spoke. ‘Was it another heart attack?’

‘I imagine so. There’ll be a post-mortem, of course. Bianca was with him – she said…she said that one minute he was talking to her and the next he’d clutched at his chest and fell to the floor. He was dead by the time she got to him.’

‘How dreadful!’ Flora had found her voice.

‘It was. It has been. I’ve been at her house all day, trying to help. Trying to get her to eat something, anything. Lunch went out of the window, of course. But…the thing is, Flora, I simply have to leave tomorrow. I’ve already delayed too long and I can’t take more time out. I didn’t say before but Alice telephoned me a few days ago. I knew there was a problem as soon as I heard her voice, otherwise she would never have called. There’s real trouble at the hotel – some kind of feud between two of the staff that’s upsetting everyone else. I’ve put off going back as long as I could but I need to be there to knock a few heads together.’

It was an uncanny echo of Jack’s words.

‘And your train…’

‘That’s sorted, at least the ticket is. The new schedule means I’ll be waiting around in Milan for a fair time, but I should be home the day after tomorrow. I hate leaving Bianca alone, though.’

‘Hasn’t she relatives who could stay with her?’

‘It doesn’t seem so. She has one or two good neighbours and I think they’ll call and do what they can. But I was wondering…I understand you hardly know her, but could you and Jack call, possibly? Just once would help. I can give you her address. I know she’d be happy to have your company for a while.’

Jack could see that the request had put Flora in a quandary. Had put him in one, too. They had only a few days left in Venice and playing nurse to Bianca wasn’t how either of them would have wished to spend them. But the girl had lost a father she loved dearly and it seemed she’d been left to cope alone; they should do whatever they could to comfort her, he supposed, although he doubted Bianca would see their presence as exactly comforting. But Flora would want to help, for Sally’s sake – she was clearly very upset – if not for Bianca herself.

‘We’ll do what we can,’ Flora promised, as he knew she would, ‘but we’re not here for much longer ourselves.’

‘Thank you. Thank you, both – for whatever you can do. You’ll let me know how things are with her, once you get back to Abbeymead?’

‘Her address?’ Jack prompted.

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