Page 57 of The Venice Murders

‘I don’t see why you think we’re being watched,’ she repeated. ‘All the customers are busy with their food or with each other and the owner is nowhere to be seen. There’s a manageress in charge of the restaurant tonight – I glimpsed her as we were shown to the table.’

‘And the deadly duo?’

Flora shook her head. ‘Neither of them are here. They’re probably back in Asolo, skulking. You see – we have a clear run.’

‘I’m not sure what that means exactly but I have a premonition that it’s bad news.’

‘Jack, we came here to discover the truth and that’s what we should do.’

‘By visiting the ladies’ washroom? I’d much rather you didn’t. Unless you’re fixated on it, I should go instead – not to the Ladies but the Gents.’

‘That wouldn’t help. The men’s washroom is at the rear of the restaurant. It’s the women’s section that’s just above the cellar – along with all those doors.’

‘Locked doors,’ he reminded her.

‘I wasn’t able to try every one of them,’ she said defensively. ‘Not before Matteo and the horrible Luigi appeared. Some of them might have been open.’

‘And revealed a stolen artwork worth millions of lire!’

‘You can mock, but I could be right.’

She took a sip of the drink Jack had ordered, a negroni, he’d told her, though she wasn’t sure she enjoyed it. Looking across the table, she saw how set his face had become and reached out for his hand.

‘This isn’t like you, Jack. You’ve been half-hearted about this case from the outset and now you’re sounding positively negative.’

‘Probably because I am.’ His clasp on her hand tightened. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t want to be a naysayer, but I’m worried for you. These people, if they’re the criminals you believe, won’t play gently, and I don’t want you hurt for the sake of a painting.’

‘It’s not just a painting, is it? It’s a woman, too. And don’t say that we don’t know Filomena, that we’ve never even met her, and we should let it go. She’s in danger and she needs our help.’

‘The trouble with you, Flora, is that you want to help the whole world. Bring you an injustice and you’re storming the barricades, no matter how perilous or hopeless. I love you for it, but it scares me.’

‘Think of an elderly lady somewhere who’s even more scared than you,’ she said quietly.

He let go of her hand, resigned, it seemed, to what she’d planned. Flora took a second sip of her negroni, hoping she’d soon like it better, and waited for what seemed the right moment, when her fellow customers were taken up with their drinks and their food, and the waiters busy clearing and setting tables.

Quietly, she got to her feet, kissed Jack lightly on the cheek, and slipped into the restaurant. Checking the manageress was as occupied as her waiters, she walked to the rear of the room and took the stairs she remembered to the basement.

Halfway down the staircase, a customer was emerging from the women’s washroom and held the door open for Flora. Thanking her, she pretended to walk through but, as soon as the woman had disappeared up the stairs, allowed the door to slowly close. Down the last few stairs and here they were – six closed doors.

Checking that no one else was about to descend the staircase, she moved swiftly to the first room, trying the handle and finding the door locked. It was, as Jack had predicted. And the same was true of the next door and the one after that.

At the last but one, she thought she heard a noise inside and put her ear to the lock. Surely, she must be mistaken. But no! There was a definite movement of some kind. She could still hear it. A mouse? A rat even? The noise had sounded louder than a small creature would make. Someone or something was in there! She turned the handle as gently as she could, trying not to alarm whoever, or whatever, was there, but was again unlucky. Still…she had a nail file in the handbag she’d left on her seat – maybe that would work. It would certainly be worth risking a return.

Turning to go, Flora felt a hand. Two hands, heavy, and bearing down on her. Then her arms were grabbed from behind and twisted back so fiercely that her shoulders were wrenched almost from their sockets. She was propelled to the end of the passage, a knee in her back, and the final door kicked open. At last, an unlocked room, she thought bitterly. Shoved roughly through the doorway, she lost her balance and fell, hitting the hard earthenware floor with a thud.

The door slammed behind her assailant but not before she’d managed painfully to twist her head to one side and glimpse a face. The face of Luigi Tasca. She’d been right! But what use was knowing for sure that it was Tasca behind these crimes if she was imprisoned? And itwasa prison she found herself in.

Even spreadeagled on the floor, she could see the plaster peeling from the walls, the floor dirty and unswept, and the ceiling cracked and flaking. A single light bulb hung from its centre but what illumination there was came from a small slit of a window low down in the wall. It was barred and, when she’d scrambled to her knees, bending her head to peer through the iron railings, it was water she could see, eddying inches below the window. The canal! No escape there.

She pulled herself to her feet, feeling decidedly shaky. Two rickety chairs were the room’s sole furniture and she shuffled over to one before collapsing onto the seat. Her arms and shoulders were screaming with pain and her knees stung where she’d landed on the hard floor. But at least her brain was still working and she must use it. Think, Flora, think what best to do.

If she didn’t return to their table soon, Jack would be worried. He was already twitchy and her absence would send danger messages flashing in his mind. He’d think her in trouble and come looking for her. That would be the worst thing he could do – he’d be walking into the enemy’s hands.

Please don’t come, she prayed. Please leave and find help. But do it quickly.

22

Jack was worried. If his watch was correct, Flora had been gone nearly fifteen minutes. How long would it take to try each door, even with six handles to be rattled? A few seconds only if the rooms were locked. But if she’d managed to open a door? Had she found something? The painting? Filomena? It was highly unlikely, but nothing was impossible.

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