Page 80 of Vengeance in Venice
They both gazed at Foscolo, who sighed.
“To be fair, I think he aimed to. He arrived that morning just after eight o’clock, and I heard him ask Signora Savelli for permission to use the study to conduct his initial investigation and interviews. Unfortunately, he found me already ensconced there. One of my men had wakened me, you see, almost as soonas the body was discovered, and I was at the Palazzo Savelli well before seven. He kept trying to send me off on trivial tasks, which was quite amusing, because I immediately sent my own men and sat back down. I was interviewing the staff—and yourself, Mr. Grey. It was Lampl who was unnecessary, and he knew it. But miraculously enough, no one noticed the dagger’s presence in its case—except me, and I have a spiteful policy of telling Lampl nothing he does not ask me directly. I know he went back a couple of times, but Signora Savelli had herself better in hand by then. I doubt she allowed him to run tame about her house. And in any case, he had already got away with it, just by altering my report. And now everyone thinks Lampl returned the valuable weapon to the widow.”
“Shedoesn’t,” Constance said.
Foscolo waved that aside. “A poor widow, shocked by grief and not remembering correctly.”
“But isn’t police evidence recorded?” Solomon asked.
“Signed in and out. I saw it shortly before I left the office. My name is beside the dagger’s return, but I never took it.”
“And the Austrians will not believe you over him,” Constance murmured.
Foscolo inclined his head. “You see my predicament. But for now, you must go. You were seen entering the building and I can guarantee I will have to answer Lampl’s questions on your visit tomorrow. I will tell him that you are impatient at the progress of the investigation and that I think I calmed you down. For your own sake, say nothing else to anyone. I’ll find a way to talk to you tomorrow.”
*
“I feel asif I’ve been hit over the head again,” Constance said as they walked back toward the boat. “He makes a bizarre kind of sense, but do you believe him?”
“Mostly. But he’s a subtle devil. He has had to be to survive.”
Constance nodded, holding Solomon’s arm closer to her side. “He didn’t give a reason for Lampl poisoning me, and I can’t think what either of us might have said to make us appear dangerous.”
“Neither can I. We don’t have quite all the pieces yet, but my feeling is we now have most of them.”
“Unless Foscolo made it all up. He was very vague on how Lampl is supposed to have acquired the twin dagger, and we have no proof of any of it. It’s Foscolo’s name on the evidence book. He could easily be the one who returned the murder weapon to its case.”
“Or failed to take the Savelli dagger away,” Solomon said consideringly, “because he couldn’t get hold of the case key from the safe. He was not an intimate of the Savellis, so he wouldn’t know how it worked. I still think it’s Lampl.”
“Actually, so do I. Foscolo might admire Elena, but he’s not a madman. He knows he stands no chance with her. Lampl, on the other hand, is an Austrian aristocrat. It would be a good match for her, in time. And he could take her away from Venice and gossip.”
“Something is still wrong, though,” Solomon said. “Why did he kill Savelli that particular night? Because, after the fight, Giusti could be blamed, thus removing another rival? Could he have known about it so soon?”
“Only Giusti has not been blamed,” Constance pointed out. “Or not yet.”
“Then there is your abduction. He could have heard about that too and decided I would make a good culprit.”
“Yet if anything, he seems to have protected you, or at least ruled you out.”
Solomon scowled. “Apart from poisoning you… And we still don’t know why that happened. Alvise—take us to the back door of the Palazzo Savelli.”
Although the light was beginning to fade, the palazzo was still clearly visible. The water rippled up the steps from the canal, leading straight to the stout, closed back door.
“Did the killer come by boat, like us?” Solomon murmured, looking up at the building. “Lampl, rowing himself, would surely have intrigued Savelli, and he would not have felt threatened. Did he see him from one of these windows?”
Constance followed his gaze. “Maybe. He certainly didn’t have to be in the study at the time if he didn’t take the dagger with him. Earlier, Elena saw Giusti from one of them.” She pointed upward. “That partially open window has the brightest curtains. I suspect that is Elena’s dressing room, where she stood when he rowed by. The windows next to it are surely Savelli’s. They are definitely close to that part of the building, for I looked out when Elena showed us his rooms. We can ask her to confirm it…if it’s important?”
“It’s another oddity,” Solomon said. “Was Lampl prepared to wait here, hour after hour, night after night, on the off chance that Savelli would look out of his window at the right time, see him, and come down to be murdered?”
“He would have been seen by someone,” Constance said, “considering all the people who skulked around here that night. It must have been prearranged.”
“Why would Savelli agree to anything so bizarre? Surely it would be unusual enough for him to alert the bodyguard.”
Constance shivered, throwing off her sudden memory of the men who had abducted her and scared her so badly. She tried toconcentrate. “Unless they just didn’t turn up. And Savelli went out anyway.”
“I suppose they could have covered that up,” Solomon said doubtfully, “with the police and with the rest of the house—” He broke off. “The lowest window to the right of the door. The one without bars.”
She saw it at once, not only because it was placed higher up in the wall than the other bottom windows, giving the row a pleasingly asymmetrical appearance, but because there was movement behind it. A face pressed up against it, grinning and sinister, and she couldn’t look away. It was Pellini, one of her abductors.
