Page 16 of Vengeance in Venice
And no one wanted Foscolo, a policeman rather than a diplomat, upsetting the wealthy Mr. Grey, let alone the British consul?
“Naturally, Mr. von Lampl is welcome,” Solomon said mildly. “My wife and I are happy to answer the questions of the police, whoever asks them.”
Foscolo inclined his head with, perhaps, a hint of irony. “I had just asked Mrs. Grey,” he told his superior, “to describe her ordeal at the hands of Savelli’s servants.”
Lampl nodded curtly and sat. Constance told her tale calmly from the moment they had seen the attack on Giusti, until she had stepped out of the back door of the Palazzo Savelli and into the boat with Solomon and Giusti.
When she had finished, Foscolo sat forward as though to ask a question, but it was Lampl who spoke first.
“You are quite admirably calm about the whole experience, madam. You must be extremely brave.”
“The servants were mere thugs,” Constance said, “But Signor Savelli neither threatened nor frightened me.” It was true, of course, and throughout her life Constance had faced down considerably scarier people. But she realized quite suddenly that she could not tell the policemen this. Her past was an insult to Solomon. Nothing could change that.
“My wifeisa brave lady,” Solomon said shortly. “And if you do not believe in the roughness of her handling, perhaps you would like to see her bruising?”
This time, Foscolo spoke before his superior. “If you please, madam, and if it does not discommode you.”
Constance drew back her wide sleeves to reveal the bruises on her forearms and then tugged them back further to show the larger, angrier marks above the elbows. Lampl’s breath hissed.
Foscolo said, “They look very painful. I am sorry such a thing occurred at all, let alone here.”
“Signor Savelli was angry with his men, not with me.”
“Then he believed you,” Foscolo said, “when you explained you had nothing to do with Ludovico Giusti?”
“Of course he did. I have been in the city a matter of mere days.”
“And yet,” Foscolo said, “I believe Signor Giusti visited here today. While Mr. Grey was at the Palazzo Savelli.”
It almost took Constance’s breath away, but only the truth would serve—especially since, beside her, Solomon had stiffened alarmingly. Lampl was glaring at Foscolo, apparently speechless.
“He did,” Constance said. “He was looking for Solomon, to tell him about Signor Savelli’s death. I believe Giusti had already spoken to you and had not mentioned our involvement in the fight last night. He wished to be gentlemanly and keep us out of it, but obviously that could not happen. As we both told him.”
“Foscolo will revisit Giusti,” Lampl said. He met Solomon’s gaze. “Do you wish to make charges against Signor Savelli’s men?”
Solomon turned to Constance. They had talked about it already, but he left it to her to answer.
“I would not add to his widow’s pain over what was clearly a misunderstanding, however lawless. But we would like to talk to the men at some stage.”
“Talkto them?” Lampl repeated, startled.
Foscolo was frowning, gazing in bafflement from her to Solomon.
“I imagine you regard us as suspects,” Solomon said mildly. “We would like to help discover the true culprit. Or culprits.”
“That is unwise and could well be dangerous,” Foscolo said. “It isourduty to investigate, but you should know that your boatman and your other servants have already confirmed what you told us about your movements on the night in question. So there is no need for you to—”
“To help us in our investigations,” Lampl interpolated hastily, as if afraid Foscolo would have saidinterfere.
“Do you know more precisely when he died?” Solomon asked.
“We think between three and five o’clock this morning,” Lampl replied.
“And the weapon?” Solomon asked. “Do you have any idea what it was?”
“Every idea,” Lampl said coldly. “It was left in his body and it belonged to Signor Savelli himself.”
“Can you be certain of that?” Constance asked.
