Page 21 of Vengeance in Venice
“Oh no.” For an instant, fresh anger tightened Elena’s lips. She sighed. “But it was probably the first time they had involved others. It was a measure of contempt that Angelo sent his men to beat Ludovico and take the ring by force. He hired some of them as bodyguards, you know, without considering the nature of the men concerned. They could have killed Ludovico.” Her gaze refocused on Constance. “And they certainly overstepped by taking you. Rumor must have reached them of some newmistress of Ludovico. And they must have thought you, Mr. Grey, were of their own type, some hired bravo. Imbeciles.”
“Would you mind if we spoke to them?” Solomon asked. “And to your other servants?”
Elena raised her eyebrows. “Please do, but I would advise you to watch your back. And be quick, because I will certainly turn most of them off.”
“Is that wise?” Constance asked quickly. “Until we know what happened to your husband, should you not keep all the protection you can?”
The widow’s eyes widened infinitesimally, as if the thought had never entered her head. Because she knew who had killed her husband and why? Her eyelashes swept down, masking whatever lay behind them. Constance thought suddenly that she was very alone and had probably been so long before the death of her husband.
In marrying Savelli, she had alienated her family and friends and made an enemy of Giusti. The quarrel between the two men was clearly well known in the city, certainly to the police.
“You must know Giusti very well,” Solomon said. “Do you think he is capable of murder?”
“Of course he is,” Elena said impatiently. “He killed in the war. Angelo fought for the Austrians. Do I think hedidkill my husband? No. Angelo told me he left in the same boat as you did.”
“Perhaps he came back,” Solomon said.
“Perhapsyoudid,” Elena countered. “After all, my husband was responsible for kidnapping your wife and no doubt terrifying her. That is not easy to forgive.”
“No, it isn’t,” Solomon said. “Which was why I tried to call on him yesterday. Signora, when did you last see your husband alive?”
“When he told me about Giusti and Signora Grey. About one in the morning, perhaps a little later.”
“Did he go to bed?” Constance asked.
“Not with me,” Elena said, holding her gaze. “But he has his own rooms, of course.”
“May we see them?”
Again, the widow’s eyes widened. “You want to see my husband’s rooms?”
“And speak to his valet, if he has one,” Constance said, getting everything in at once.
Elena stared at her, then at Solomon, as if unsure whether to be angry. She gave a graceful shrug. “Very well, why not? What else do you want to know?”
“Who hated him? Who bore a grudge and a temper violent enough to kill him? Giusti implied he had business rivals.”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“Oh yes,” Constance said. Some of her own would have cut her throat in passing. Once upon a time. Now, she had no real rivals, since her business was unique, though that didn’t mean everyone loved her. “Who were your husband’s?”
Elena drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair for a moment, then said, “Nicolo Premarin was trying replace him in some government contract. He was boasting about it, claimed the contract was signed. Only it wasn’t, and Angelo kept it. I heard Premarin was angry. But then, I don’t care for the man, so I would say that. Don’t you think you should be looking further down the”—she paused, struggling for right word in English—“the ranks of our population? An opportunistic thief or someone of that nature?”
“Was anything stolen from your husband?”
“Not that I know of,” she said reluctantly. She swallowed some wine, set down the glass, and pushed it across the table. “There was coin in his pocket and he still wore his ring and hiscuff links. But…” She jumped to her feet in sudden excitement. “Hedidwitness a robbery in San Marco last week. Someone snatched a lady’s purse and Angelo caught the fellow, handed him over to the authorities after returning the purse to the lady. The thief was loud in his cursing and promise of retribution.”
“Ah.” Solomon had risen with her. “Did you tell the police about this yesterday?”
“No, for I had forgotten until now. They should know already, since they took charge of the culprit. But I will remind them. Come. I’ll show you Angelo’s room if you really want to see it.”
Frustratingly, the dead man’s bedchamber gave away little of his character. It was comfortable but not luxurious, containing everything a gentleman should have and all in the finest quality. But there was nothing extravagant in his taste, no clue as to his interest in books or art or pastimes. His dressing room, which looked onto the back of the house, was much the same: functional, tidy, and tasteful.
“He was a very private man, your husband?” Constance said. She made it a question, and Elena merely nodded.
“Yes. But then, he only slept here. He conducted correspondence and business from his study or the dockside offices.”
Constance glanced at Solomon.
