Page 58 of The Venice Murders

And if the old lady had indeed been locked in La Zucca’s cellar all this time, Flora would stay with her. She’d need to calm the poor woman, reassure her, give her the confidence to walk up the stairs and out to freedom. He would wait a while.

But as the minutes ticked by, he knew in his heart there was trouble. What best to do? Go in search of Flora or ring the police for help? What on earth could he say to them? I think my wife is in trouble – she went to the washroom of this restaurant near the Grand Canal and hasn’t come back? It would sound ridiculous.

A waiter had glided up to the table, a smile inching its way into his face. ‘Signor Carrington?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’ His heart felt a hard squeeze. The man seemed uneasy, his smile pasted on.

‘It is your wife, signor. She needs you. Please to come with me.’

Had Flora fallen ill, felt unwell perhaps after the negroni? Or maybe fainted from the heat? He could understand if she had – come the evening, the atmosphere below stairs would be stifling. He would go to her, take her back to the hotel as quickly as possible. Once outside, fresh air should do the trick.

The waiter stood politely to one side as Jack got to his feet and made for the restaurant entrance. ‘She is downstairs?’ he checked.

‘Sì, signor. Please to go quickly.’

The staircase was badly lit and, racing down, he almost missed the bottom step, only to be brought up sharply by two figures jumping from the shadows, their arms reaching out for him. Jack had half turned, meaning to rush back up the stairs and call for help, when an empty sack was thrown over his head, rendering him sightless.

Polenta, he thought, as the sack descended. Even in his confusion, it was the nutty smell that registered. He’d been made blind, but it wouldn’t stop him fighting. It couldn’t stop him. Flora was down here, somewhere close, he was sure, and depending on him, unless…no, he wouldn’t think the very worst. His arms thrashed from right to left, trying to connect with a body, and he sensed that the men were dancing around him in an effort to avoid his blows. As he started to tire, one of them was able to grab his arms while the other was quick to begin tying his wrists together with what felt like twine.

This time he had to use his legs, kicking backwards at his antagonist. The man yelled out with pain – he had scored a hit, it seemed but, in response, the twine was forgotten and a punch to Jack’s head landed painfully. It was taking all his resolution now to continue the brawl, but once more he kicked out as furiously as he could. The man must have side-stepped, having learnt his lesson, and Jack was pushed viciously in the back and made to stumble along what, from the brief glance he’d managed, was a narrow passageway. The loud creak of a door opening ahead reached his ears before he was shoved roughly into a room, then heard the door slam shut behind him.

His hands had remained untied, his captors having given up trying – a possibly stupid oversight, he decided. It meant, at least, that he could free himself of this stifling sack. Tearing the hessian covering from his head, his first sight was of Flora, wide-eyed and lodged in the corner of the room, as though the walls on either side could protect her.

He gave a wry smile and walked towards her, holding out his arms. ‘Not much of a rescuer, I’m afraid,’ he said.

For a startled instant, Flora had continued to huddle in her corner but then realisation dawned and she rushed across the room, kicking the hessian sack aside and throwing her arms around him.

Jack kissed her fiercely. ‘You’re OK?’

‘Yes,’ she murmured into his chest.

‘Thank the Lord for that!’

‘And you?’

‘A painful head, a sore back and an itchy nose. Not exactly tragic, but what a mess we’ve made of things.’

‘I suppose.’ She stood back. ‘One thing we have done is prove our suspicions of La Zucca were right all along.’

‘Yoursuspicions, Flora. I couldn’t believe anyone owning a restaurant like this would get mixed up in such dirty work. Perhaps Fabbri isn’t involved, but there’s someone here who doesn’t want us exploring too deeply. I didn’t see who attacked me. That wretched sack was over my head before I had a chance.’

‘Not a good look,’ Flora said, finding a smile from somewhere. ‘Ididsee someone. Tasca – Luigi Tasca. And Fabbri has to be involved. How can he not be? He must know his premises are being used for a criminal purpose. And now we do, too.’

‘What good will that do, though? The restaurant is a hotbed of crime, but we can’t prove it. We’re prisoners. And how the hell do we get out of here?’

He walked to the window and bent down to peer through the bars. ‘Not through there, at least.’

‘It’s the only possible exit, except for the door.’

Jack came away from the window and began pacing the small space. ‘Whyarewe prisoners? Have you thought of that? We haven’t discovered what they’re up to, just vaguely that they’re up to something. They could have escorted you back upstairs again, so why lock you up? We’ve discovered nothing – no painting, no elderly lady.’

‘They’re not taking any chances,’ Flora replied placidly. ‘They’ve seen me down here before, remember.’

‘And other women, too, I reckon. The washroom is close by and not well signposted.’

‘I heard a noise in one of the rooms and was listening at the door. That’s when they grabbed me and pushed me in here. I think there may be someone in the next room.’

Jack frowned. ‘Are you sure it was a person?’

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