Page 78 of Vengeance in Venice
“You move very quietly,” Solomon said.
“So do you,” Foscolo replied without turning. “Since you came to talk, I advise you to begin.”
“Perhaps we could sit and be comfortable?” Constance suggested.
Foscolo appeared to consider. “Perhaps I prefer to keep the two of you apart.”
“I wouldn’t,” Solomon said gently.
“But then, you have really lost any say in the matter by breaking into my home.”
“Arrest me,” Solomon said at once. “Take me to Lampl.”
Foscolo turned slowly to look at him. “I’ll give you his address, if you like. Which of you picked my lock?” Receiving no answer, the Venetian gave a crooked smile. “Very well. Let us discuss all accusations.” He stood to one side and gestured exaggeratedly with one arm. “After you, signora.”
Her heart thundering, Constance sailed past him to Solomon, who grasped her hand in a firm, welcome grip. They walked together to the sitting room. Constance did not hear Foscolo following then, but shefelthim with every prickling hair on her nape.
Solomon handed her onto the sofa and sat beside her without invitation. To her surprise, Foscolo’s lips twitched.
“You are a very cool and collected pair of housebreakers. Do I take it, my amateur sleuth-hounds, that you suspect me of something?”
“Actually, we are professional,” Constance said, largely to give them thinking time. “We have an inquiry business in London.”
Foscolo still looked amused. “Then I congratulate you again. Everyone else believes you, sir, are a great shipping magnate.”
“Apparently, one can be both,” Solomon said. “Why are you not investigating my wife’s poisoning?”
“I am, in my own way.”
“A way that covers your own tracks?”
“Yes,” Foscolo said, “in a way. I gather that you have recovered, signora. I am glad of that, at least.”
“I almost believe you,” Constance said.
Foscolo leaned against the arm of the comfortable old chair opposite them. “What led you to suspect me?”
They could tiptoe around this for hours. Constance opened her mouth, but Solomon said it for her.
“The murder weapon. Savelli’s dagger is not missing. Lampl, the bureaucrat, might not have noticed that, but you are a policeman.”
Foscolo inclined his head. “I did notice.”
“Is the dagger found in Savelli’s body still in the possession of the police?”
“No.”
“Then either you did give it back to Signora Savelli, or someone else has it.”
Again, Foscolo nodded. “And that someone else has to be a policeman, so here you are.”
“And then you were at the consulate reception, standing close to my wife’s glass when neither of us could see it.”
“That is the one time it is unlikely to have been tampered with,” Foscolo said unexpectedly. “Lampl and I watch each other like hawks.”
A first twinge of doubt caused Constance’s eyebrow to twitch. Foscolo did not sound like a guilty man.
“Then who took the dagger from police custody?” she demanded.
