Page 6 of The Venice Murders

Flora had to agree. They had so little time to enjoy this amazing city and, though she could understand Sybil’s concern, it seemed too big an imposition. She would do as Jack suggested and put it out of her mind.

That wasn’t too difficult. She had a new frock to wear that evening – they were eating in the hotel’s wonderful floating restaurant – a black cocktail dress, the first she’d ever owned, with an hour-glass shape and a ruffled peplum draped from the waist. Its pencil skirt showed a daring three inches of leg and Flora had never felt more grown up.

Dinner was memorable, not so much for the dress or the food, fabulous though they were, but for the sheer beauty of the evening: below them, the gentle sound of lapping waves, while above a moon sliding in and out of small puffs of cloud dusted the lagoon with splashes of light. And across the water, the basilica of St Mark’s, now a blaze of illumination, shone from the darkness.

Such a backdrop demanded notice and it was difficult to give their complete attention to what they were eating, but somehow thelinguine rustiche, followed by the fillet of turbot, disappeared and they were once more perusing the menu.

‘I think I can squeeze in a dessert,’ Flora said, lowering the leather-bound volume, her eyes sparkling. ‘We are so lucky, Jack! To be here, at this table, in this city! Just look at that view – I can’t get enough of it.’

Jack looked but pulled a face. ‘Tell me, why did I forget to bring a camera? I could have bought a cheap one. It would have done the job and we could have bored everyone to death with the photographs. Now, when we get back, you’ll be asked to describe in detail everything you’ve seen. Sally, for one, will be hanging on your words.’

Out of all their friends, Sally Jenner, Alice’s niece and the owner of the Priory Hotel, had shown the greatest enthusiasm for their trip.

‘It’s a journey she could make herself.’ Flora took up the menu again. ‘I think I’ll settle for apanna cotta– I had one once when Alice was feeling particularly daring. Or there’s a Sicilian lemon tart. I wonder how that’s different from the usual lemon tart? How about you?’

‘I shouldn’t have either. I’m too full already, except I’m tempted by thepanna cotta.’

‘The Priory is doing so well,’ Flora continued her earlier thought, ‘Sally could easily afford a decent holiday, and she definitely needs a break, managing the hotel alone as she’s done for months. It could help her get over the Hector thing, as well.’

‘Really?’ He looked sceptical. ‘Hector’s engagement is a bit more than a “thing”.’

‘I don’t think Sally’s heart was truly broken. It was more her pride that was battered. The fact that Hector preferred my assistant – but it was always going to be Rose.’

‘I can sympathise.’ Some years ago, Jack had also suffered a battering to his pride when, three weeks before his first wedding, his bride-to-be had left him for his best friend. ‘I’m not sure that a trip to Venice will be the cure, though.’

‘It might be,’ Flora said blithely. ‘And she could bring Alice! Her aunt could do with a break from the Priory kitchen.’

‘That would be a recipe for disaster! Come on, what’s it to be?Panna cottaor Sicilian lemon tart?’

Some time later, they walked from the restaurant along the path that skirted the garden and through the rear door of the hotel into the foyer. A single receptionist was on duty, the same young woman who had staffed the desk for the entire day. This evening, she was not behind her desk, however, but had her arm around an older woman and seemed to be trying to lead her to one of the large armchairs at one side of the foyer.

Flora quickly took in the situation and, out of respect, looked away: the older woman was crying, sobbing quietly but continuously into a handkerchief. A door opened along the polished corridor that ran to the right and the receptionist, Flora saw, looked relieved. It was the hotel manager, smooth and purposeful, walking swiftly over to them.

‘Signora Massi,’ he murmured, cupping his hand beneath the woman’s elbow, ‘per favore, vieni con me.’

‘Did he say Massi?’ Flora whispered to Jack, as the manager gently ushered the weeping woman down the corridor and into his office. Then, without waiting for an answer, she walked over to the reception desk. ‘The signora?’ she asked. ‘Was that lady the mother of Signor Massi?’

The girl looked shaken, but nodded her head. ‘The poor lady. She has come to Venice for her son. She must identify him. Her husband is too unwell at the moment to travel from Asolo and this business with the police, it has to be done.’

‘Asolo? Did you say Asolo?’

‘It is Franco’s home town, signora. A small town but very beautiful.’

Flora spun round to face her husband, her eyes alight with a new enthusiasm.

3

‘Asolo, Jack!’ Cheeks flushed, she bounced into the bedroom and turned to face him as he followed her through the door.

‘I heard,’ Jack said placidly.

‘First the priest and now Franco Massi.’

‘They come from a small town close to Venice and both ended up in the same city. That’s not unlikely. A coincidence.’

‘A coincidence they both had bad things happen to them? The priest was chased out of Asolo and Franco is dead.’

‘The priest fell foul of what sounds a deeply unpleasant family and the receptionist met with an unfortunate accident.’ He tried to speak calmly. ‘Nothing too mysterious.’

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