Page 71 of The Venice Murders

For an instant, the outcome teetered in the balance but Jack, having staggered upright, broke free of the last restraint and was making for the cabinet himself, plainly in search of a weapon with which to join the saucepan-wielding women. The men, now bereft of their captives, seemed hesitant, unable to process what was happening. There was a panicked exchange of looks that said clearly, ‘Let’s go.’

And they did, swearing in Italian that they would be back. That Bianca Benetti would pay, in one way or another.

‘What did that thug mean,’ Jack asked, ‘that you’d pay one way or another?’

They were sitting, somewhat uncomfortably, on a circle of wooden-backed chairs in a room opposite the kitchen. The Benettis’ living room was narrow with barely space for more than an old and beautiful walnut chest of drawers and the trio of single chairs, their shabby cushions fraying at the edges. A wide picture window, however, brightened the space and looked out onto a pleasant communal garden that was shared by several of the houses in the street.

‘I owe them money,’ Bianca admitted, her voice dull and defeated. ‘And I can’t pay.’

‘You borrowed money from those men?’ Flora frowned at the idea. It seemed extraordinary to Jack, too.

‘Not them.’ Bianca slowly stirred sugar into the coffee she had just made. ‘From their boss. Those men are just his…enforcers…is that what you call them?’

‘In American films, perhaps.’ Jack gave a half smile. ‘So, whoistheir boss?’

‘A horrible man. Two horrible men. They stay at the Minerva for two, three weeks and I was their chambermaid. I talked to them many times and I thought they were good people. I told them I was in trouble – that I must have money very quickly – and they said they could help.’

‘The help they offered was a cash loan?’

She nodded.

‘It must have been a large sum.’ That was pretty clear, Jack thought, but why had Bianca been so desperate for money that she was willing to trust a man or men who were so obviously dubious? Had she been in a blind panic and why?

‘The money wasn’t for you?’ Flora hazarded.

‘For my father,’ the girl said. ‘He needed money. Needed it quickly. WhenMirabelle, the firstMirabelle, was smashed to pieces and could not be repaired, he had to pay for a new boat. Or he would not work.’

‘But the new boat, the one that took us to Burano – wouldn’t your father have already ordered it?’ Flora was still frowning, trying, Jack could see, to work out how suddenly it had become imperative to borrow this huge sum.

‘The boat had been ordered,’ the girl confirmed, ‘and built. But not paid for. When it was ready to collect, Papa had not the price, so he asked the boatyard if they would keep it a while until he could find the money. Then the accident happened and hehadto have the boat. He had to pay. He was desperate, and that is when I arranged the loan.’

‘And what exactly were the terms of the loan?’ Jack was unsure there would be anything written down, but it was as well to check.

Bianca confirmed his worst fears. ‘It was something we agreed,’ she said, trailing off.

‘Agreed verbally?’

She nodded again, then burst out, ‘It was going to be fine. They were nice people, I thought. They would let Papa repay when he could. But then they asked for interest and Papa managed to pay, but it wasn’t enough. They told us that now they want all their money back, plus more interest. That he must sell the boat, sell this house. They come here often, push their way into the house to threaten him, to bully him, until…’ She broke off, her voice choked. ‘Until they left him dead,’ she finished. ‘And now they have come for me.’

Her feet beat a muffled tattoo on the polished floorboards. ‘I should never have done it. Iwouldnever have done it if I had known what kind of men they were. Papa had no idea how to get the finance. I thought I was saving him!’

She jumped up, too distressed to continue, and, gathering up their empty cups, rushed back into the kitchen.

‘I’m so sorry, Bianca.’ Flora had followed her, putting her arm around the girl’s shoulder and hugging her close.

‘It was my fault that Papa was in trouble.’ Bianca blew her nose forcefully. ‘And I grabbed the chance to make things right. Or that is what I thought.’

‘How could it have been your fault?’ Jack heard his wife ask, as he joined them in the kitchen. He shared Flora’s puzzlement. There was certainly something odd about the financial pickle Bianca had landed herself in. Any money Piero had lent must have been returned by the time he had to pay for the boat.

‘I was getting married,’ she said in explanation, her voice lifeless. ‘But you know that. We were moving to an apartment in Mestre, a new apartment. It is not the best place to live and the flat was not expensive, but I had saved only a little and Franco had nothing at all, although I did not know it. Not for a long time. We needed to pay a deposit and then we would arrange a loan for the rest of the price, but through a bank. It is the proper way.’

‘The deposit, though – you borrowed it from your father?’ Flora guessed.

‘Ididn’t,’ she said indignantly. ‘I knew nothing. It was Franco who asked my father for money, then pretended to me that it washismoney paying the deposit, but it was not. It was Papa’s and when his old boat was destroyed and he had suddenly to pay for the new one, the money he had saved had gone to Franco.’

‘Was there a reason that Franco had no savings?’ That seemed extraordinary to Jack. ‘He was in a very good job. In fact, he’d had a number of very good jobs.’

The question had Bianca grip the back of a chair and look blankly down at the bare wooden table.

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