Page 62 of Vengeance in Venice
Elena was so surprised that she glanced back, her brows raised. “Seriously?”
“I have never been more serious in my life. Please, sit and talk to us. And in the name of God, please tell us the truth. Who was there the night of your husband’s death? I know you saw or heard someone and you lied to us.”
“I saw no one,” she said. Her lips were stiff and bloodless, and yet she sank into the chair as far from Giusti’s as was possible.
“You are both lying,” Constance said, astonished by the hardness in her voice. “And we have had enough. Signor Giusti, would it surprise you to know that you were seen after three o’clock that morning, rowing in the canal that runs along the back of the Palazzo Savelli?”
“Yes,” he said firmly, then, as an afterthought, “By whom?”
“Signora Premarin.”
“She lies,” Giusti said quickly. “Everyone knows that. Besides, what the devil was she doing out at that time of the night?”
“She was watching my husband,” Elena said slowly. “I saw her there once before, last month. She hides imperfectly in the shadow of the tree between the canal and the piazza, as though she wants to be seen. She wantedmeto see her, to think she was waiting for Angelo. Silly girl. He barely noticed her beyond politeness. I told her to go home, that she was putting herself in danger. She probably imagined I was jealous.”
“What time would this have been?” Solomon asked.
Elena shrugged. “Two o’clock? Three?”
“You don’t sleep,” Constance said, ignoring the sense of guilt at betraying confidences because this was much, much moreimportant. “You look out of windows to pass the time. Who did you see the night of your husband’s murder?”
Elena stared at her and said nothing.
“Me,” Giusti said. “She saw me. From the back window of the second floor. I know, because I saw her.”
“He didn’t stop,” Elen said, her shoulders relaxing so suddenly that they drooped. “He rowed straight past.”
“How long did you stand at the window, watching him?” Solomon asked.
“Not long,” Elena replied, her voice curiously hollow now. “Only a minute.”
Then Giusti could have come back…
Solomon swung on Giusti. “And you—what were you doing there?”
Giusti dropped his head into his hands and tugged furiously at his hair. “God help me, I don’t know. Savelli worried me. To attack me in the street, to abduct Signora Grey—it was madness for anyone to do these things. For him, it was bizarre.”
“Yet you did not stop to ask after his health?” Solomon asked without troubling to hide his disbelief.
“It was nothishealth that bothered me,” Giusti retorted.
“It was Elena’s,” Constance said. “You were afraid he would hurt her in his…unbalanced state.”
Giusti nodded wordlessly. He looked at no one, but Elena was watching him.
“Give us more, Giusti,” Solomon said.
The young man shrugged, almost helplessly. “There is no more. I saw her at the window and had to be content. I was in no state to take on her husband and his bravos again in any case. Every bit of me hurt. I could barely row. I went home.”
Solomon scowled at him. “Do you know the time we could have saved if you had told us this in the first place?”
“He couldn’t, could he?” Elena said unexpectedly. “It would have proved that I was up, not asleep.”
At last, Giusti took his head out of his hands and met her gaze.
“You were protecting each other,” Constance said, and drew in a breath. “Do you suspect each other?”
As one, they shook their heads.
