Page 23 of Vengeance in Venice
Constance heard the tiny pause before the wordupsetand suspected the dead man’s reticence had hurt his wife. She could understand that, for Solomon had once been similarly inclined. That he had unbent and trusted her, that their relationship had grown into this partnership, this companionship, was a matter of happiness and pride to her.
Did you try? Did you love your husband?Impossible to ask right now.
As was,Did you kill him?
“Then he behaved as usual?” Solomon asked.
“Well, no, he did not usually abduct respectable women off the street, not even by accident.”
Solomon ignored the sarcasm. “But it was normal to send his men after Giusti?”
She threw back her head in a gesture that might have signified frustration or anger. “Their quarrel was getting out of hand,” she said. “I thought it would fade with time, but it got worse… Ludovico ignored both of us unless he was poked. But Angelo seemed unable to leave the matter alone. He thought Ludovico wore my father’s ring to insult him or rile him, and maybe he did. But Angelo used the missing jewels as an excuse, as though the property was his only concern.”
“That must have hurt,” Constance said.
Elena caught her breath and stopped, her eyes guarded as she flung a quick glance at each of them. “It angered me.” Shewalked on more swiftly, her whole posture discouraging further questions.
Chapter Six
Delicious, tantalizing smellsof cooking grew stronger as the lady of the house led them into the servants’ domain.
The servants displayed none of the horror of many large English households at being invaded from “upstairs.” There had been a hum of subdued chatter as they went about their tasks, and that broke off as they acknowledged their mistress’s presence. Constance gathered that they were used to her frequent appearances, although a few curious, even suspicious glances were thrown at the strangers behind her.
Elena addressed them in rapid Italian that Constance had no hope of following. A couple of people began to detach themselves from the crowd, and someone else was summoned from another room. Elena turned to her visitors.
“How much Italian do you speak?” she asked in English.
“Very little,” said Constance honestly, “though Solomon understands more.”
“Perhaps not in Venetian, which can be quite different. I will translate for you.”
They murmured their thanks as several male servants began to crowd around them. There was a middle-aged, well-dressed man, surely a valet, another younger man in sober clothes, and a boatman in white shirt and black breeches and waistcoat. Among those trying to skulk behind, Constance spotted a black eye and a cut cheek. Those who had attacked Giusti, perhaps?
“This is Ricci, my husband’s valet,” Elena said, drawing Constance’s attention back to the first man. “What would you like to know?”
Solomon said, “First, please pass on our sympathy for the loss of their master.”
Elena spoke quickly, and several of them nodded. “I have also told them you are friends who wish to help find and punish the killer, and that they should cooperate with you.”
“Thank you. Would you ask Ricci about Signor Savelli’s mood in the days leading up to his death? Was there anything unusual in his manner or his behavior?”
Another exchange of Italian and Elena replied, “He behaved as normal, but seemed preoccupied the night before.”
“Did Signor Savelli confide his problem to him?”
Elena spoke, but the negative was clear enough without her translation.
Constance said, “How long has he worked for Signor Savelli?”
“Ten years,” the answer came back.
“Was he a good master, then? Did you like working for him?” Of course, with Elena and the other servants standing by, Ricci was unlikely to say anything butyes. Still, Constance hoped to learn something from his expression.
She didn’t, although she caught some sly grins among the less-reputable men behind. Her stomach tightened as she wondered if those were the men who had seized her in the street.
“When did you last see your master alive?” Solomon asked.
“About one in the morning,” Ricci replied, via Elena.
