Page 32 of Vengeance in Venice
“We’ve asked him to paint a portrait of us,” Solomon said. “Apparently, he half finished one of Signor and Signora Savelli.”
“Then let us hope history does not repeat itself,” Giusti said flippantly. Then he frowned. “Wait. Do you suspect Rossi of the murder? Why should he kill his customer?”
“Savelli dismissed him the day before he died.”
“Did he?” Giusti’s frown deepened. “Seems to me Savelli was behaving very oddly.”
“Apparently, Rossi had made some remark about women—Signora Savelli in particular—preferring love to jewels.”
“Jewels again.”
“Was Savelli unbalanced?” Solomon asked. “You were his friend at one time—what do you think?”
Giusti came back and sat down. He reached distractedly for his wine glass. “He was always…obsessive. Which was good for his business. And his studies. But never to the point of madness when I knew him.” He took a sip of wine, then said in a rush, “He was loyal to the government, to Austria, if you like, but only because he believed it was best for Venice at this time. He wanted the unity of Italy too but thought—rightly, as it turned out—that it could not yet be achieved. So he was loyal in his way, to Venice. And to Elena. He always loved her, even when she was betrothed to me. I knew that and thought I had nothing to fear from him. I was wrong. But then later, he feared me because I was first. Maybe. I would never have killed him, you know. I would not do that to her, let alone to him.”
Giusti’s gaze refocused on Constance. “If he was mad, Elena would know. Though she might not tell you. To preserve his reputation. He was always the sanest man I knew.”
As though unaware of the contradictions falling out of his mouth, he took a savory from the plate and ate it in two bites.
“Is Elena capable of murder?” Solomon asked, timing it nicely so that Giusti took a breath and choked on some crumbs.
“No,” he gasped. Which told Constance nothing except that he would defend Elena.
“What about their household? Would someone else kill for Elena? Would those hired thugs of Savelli’s have turned on him?”
“Only if he refused to pay them, I imagine.” Giusti looked thoughtful. “Which I suppose he might have done after they abducted you, signora. But I know little of such men. They are probably not even Venetian.”
“Might we ask your manservant if he has heard any rumors?” Solomon asked.
Giusti glanced at him, an oddly shrewd look in his eye, as if he knew that was not the only question the servant Luigi would be asked. But he said only, “Of course.”
Constance sipped her wine. “Why would Signor Savelli leave the house in the early hours without his coat?”
Giusti laughed with a trace of bitterness. “An assignation? Wouldn’t that turn everything on its head! I almost wish it were true. Only, I can’t see it.”
“Neither can I. But he must have gone to meet someone, and someone was definitely there.”
“Someone he did not fear,” Giusti said, “since he went out alone.”
“Or someone he did not respect, since he went without his coat,” Solomon said.
Giusti smiled. “Like me?”
“Oh, I think he respected you. He sent four men against you, with another two in reserve who came by boat.”
“They were not very good men, since they were seen off by you and me and your gondolier. And the other two picked on a gentle lady.”
“I am not so gentle as you might think,” Constance said, and he gazed at her with frank curiosity.
“We thought,” Solomon said, setting down his glass, “that we might call on Signor Premarin tomorrow. You said he was a rival of Savelli’s.”
“He is. But perhaps I should have saidfriendlyrival.”
“They were friends?”
“Oh yes, Premarin is impossible to dislike. He is a good man and everyone knows it, so he stays friends with everyone.”
“Austrian and Venetian?” Constance asked.
