Venetian Vendetta: The Tremayne Mysteries Series Page 12

  The cemetery was filled with hundreds of graves, some exceptionally lavish with extravagant domes and avenging angels to guard their doorways. Every so often they passed a tomb containing portraits of the departed on its inner walls, as though the family had decided to meet together and discuss what had happened to one of their number.

  They walked through this avenue of death in silence, feeling no need to speak, the solemnity of the day laying its touch on them. It came as a shock when they were hailed by a loud, cheerful voice.

  ‘Leo, Nancy! How are you on this unhappy morning?’

  It was Dino Di Maio in carefully chosen funeral garb. ‘The sun has deserted us, I think.’

  The sky had clouded over from its early morning brightness and was now settled into a dull grey, while the wind was dropping and the air becoming uncomfortably humid.

  ‘It hasn’t deterred these annoying creatures, though.’ Dino swiped at his face. ‘Mosquitoes, Nancy. They’re a plague on San Michele at this time of the year. Do take care.’

  She was glad she had worn long sleeves and stockings. Only her face was vulnerable and the wide brimmed black straw she had found in one of the palazzo’s wardrobes should be ample protection.

  ‘It’s a busy morning, sun or not.’ Leo pointed ahead towards the long straggle of people making their way to the corner of the island and the church of San Moisè.

  But Dino had not stopped them for casual conversation and was quick to introduce his most pressing concern. ‘You will be meeting me in Rome tomorrow, Leo?’

  Her husband looked anxiously across at her and moved closer, nestling her hand in his. Leo gave his questioner a brief nod. ‘I promised, didn’t I, and I will. I understand we are to meet the police at the premises of the dealer who reported your paintings stolen.’

  ‘Yes. I found that odd, but they wanted all of us to be present, including the man who did the reporting, and apparently he can’t leave his shop. The appointment is at twelve. I hope that won’t be too early for you.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be there.’

  ‘I would travel with you, old chap, but I’ve urgent business in Venice before I leave. It means hiring a helicopter to get to Rome on time. A bit of a bore and damn expensive.’

  Nancy wondered what the urgent business might be. Was it something to do with the infamous crate, as she had begun to think of it? And why couldn’t Leo have travelled in the same helicopter since he was doing Dino a favour?

  ‘I’ll make it up to you,’ Dino said. ‘I promise. Let’s aim to get the business done in an hour or two. Then I’ll take you out for the best lunch you’ve ever had.’ He slapped Leo on the back. ‘The meeting should go smoothly enough, and we can travel back on the train together. It’s a red-letter day for me, Leo. A painting I love will soon be hanging in my home again.’

  He gave them a careless wave and peeled off to greet effusively a couple walking a few paces behind. Nancy was glad when he had gone. She hadn’t much liked Dino from the moment they’d met, but now her mind was filled with suspicion and she found it difficult to meet him with any semblance of cordiality.

  Another few minutes along the wide path and they were walking into the church. Inside it was cool and austerely beautiful—white walls, white marble pillars, several arches of pale pink and grey, and only a chequered nave to add warmth. Leo ushered them into seats towards the rear of the church and Nancy allowed her gaze to wander over the wooden pews immediately in front of her and to one side. They were almost full. It was evident that Signora Moretto had been a popular or, at least, a greatly respected figure in Venice.

  Her gaze travelled on to the pews at the very front of the church. These were reserved for the family of the deceased. She immediately made out Luca’s shambling figure sitting to one side of the aisle and beside him a woman she took to be his wife, a jaunty piece of black lace on her head. It was what she would have expected Francesca to wear. But there was a looming space beside her, so where were the other members of Marta’s family?

  Nancy looked across the aisle from where husband and wife sat. Another figure knelt in prayer, a lone woman, her head and shoulders covered in a black veil. She had to be Angelica. The daughter, at last! But why had she chosen to sit apart from what was left of her small family? There was no time to ponder. The coffin was being carried down the aisle, and by men from the undertakers, or so Nancy assumed, since they were dressed in matching black suits and each wore a white rose in their lapel. The pall bearers, it seemed, were not friends or family, as Concetta had told her was the case for Italian funerals, but anonymous employees.

  Nancy had not attended a church service for many years. Escape to London had meant escape from the rigid Sunday ritual her parents, strict Methodists, had observed. And since fleeing her Riversley home, she had never felt the need to return to church, not even in her lowest moments when she’d been frightened and despairing.

  This was a Catholic service, too, so that once the priest began on the Latin funeral mass, she had to exert huge effort to understand even the bare outline of what was being said and done. It was fortunate the service was over quickly, but even so she felt a lingering unhappiness at its brevity. She had thought that someone, a family member perhaps, or a close friend, would have stood at the lectern to say a few well-chosen words in praise of Marta. But except for the priest, there had been only silence.

  A final blessing and the large congregation waited in their pews to allow the family to leave first. Luca and his wife walked alone down the aisle, looking neither to right nor left. Angelica, though, made no attempt to accompany them. Instead, she waited in her pew until the church had mostly emptied of mourners before she rose slowly from her knees. Nancy had deliberately loitered, ignoring Leo’s gentle nudge. She was desperate to see this mysterious woman and had her reward when Angelica, making her way towards the entrance, passed within a hair’s breadth. She was tall and stately and, from the small glimpse the veil afforded, beautiful, too. A mystery indeed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘We should join the rest of the mourners,’ Leo urged.

  Concetta was already at the church door and Nancy picked up her bag and followed in the maid’s footsteps.

  Outside, a stream of people headed towards a newly dug grave at some distance from the church. It was a peaceful spot, away from the main path and overlooking the lagoon. Nancy stood beside her companions and listened to the priest deliver the final rites. She watched as one or two people detached themselves from the gathering and walked up to the open grave to throw a fistful of dirt or drop a flower onto the casket. Concetta, crying quietly, burrowed in her raffia bag and brought out the flower she had been carrying, then shuffled forward and threw it into the grave.

  When the maid returned to stand beside them, Nancy reached out for her hand—it was evident Concetta had loved her former mistress greatly—but the attempt at comfort only made the woman cry harder. The maid’s tears were difficult to bear. Nancy, herself, felt deeply saddened and she was relieved when, after a few minutes, Concetta began another shuffle through her bag and this time brought out a large, white handkerchief with which she wiped her face. It seemed to bring her a measure of calm, even when the air filled with the sounds of earth falling, shovel by shovel, onto the wooden coffin.

  Nancy turned away, not wishing to witness this last act, and surreptitiously observed the people around her. She saw Luca and Francesca, with Dino a few yards away, but apart from them, she recognised no one. Though… was that Salvatore at the very edge of the group? And there, almost opposite him, was Angelica, not by the graveside with her brother and sister-in-law, but as far away as the situation would allow. Something very bad must have happened within the Moretto family to cause such a rupture.

  After the incident on the Andiamo and her doubts about Dino, Nancy’s suspicions that Luca might be involved in his mother’s death had faded. But did Angelica suspect her brother of something bad? Was that the reason for their estrangement? />
  People had begun to move away from the graveside and Francesca disappeared into the distance—Nancy saw the small piece of black lace bobbing amongst the crowd. She imagined the woman would be making for Dino. Luca had stayed, though, and walked directly over to Salvatore. Their two heads were bent in earnest conversation. Why had Salvatore come? Did he know Signora Moretto or was he here at Dino’s request? As far as Nancy could make out, he’d made no attempt to speak to his employer. She inched a little nearer but their voices were too low for her to catch anything other than the odd word.

  Salvatore was engaged in something illegal—of that she was certain. And maybe Dino, too. But Luca? Were the trio involved in whatever wicked thing was going on, and had Marta found them out? Antiques, paintings, were her world, and if there was something dubious that involved her own son, wasn’t it likely she would have discovered it? That would be motive enough for getting rid of her.

  ‘A penny for them,’ Leo said.

  His voice startled her, she had been so deep in thought. Inexpertly, she batted away a buzzing mosquito and tried to excuse herself.

  ‘Sorry. The day has been a bit overwhelming.’

  ‘I know, but it’s over—at least this part of it is—and I’m sure the signora would be happy for us to enjoy a good lunch. After that, I’m afraid I’ll have to pack for Rome. As well as my professional judgement, Dino needs evidence to prove the painting’s provenance and he’s hoping I can help. I’m not sure I have anything in Venice that he can use. There may be the odd letter that would do the trick, but it’s not something I expected to have to unearth. Hopefully Archie will bring his magic to bear.’

  The three of them walked back to the landing stage along the winding path, passing a never-ending flow of visitors sauntering between graves and among flower beds. As they arrived at the vaporetto stop, a boat came steaming towards them on its way from Murano. Nancy was relieved that this time there would be no long wait; she would be glad to get off this island.

  The water bus had drawn almost level with the landing stage, when a scuffle broke out behind them. She turned to look. It was Dino and a young man she had never seen before. He wore a pair of creased and slightly dirty linen trousers with a ragged shirt hanging loose. His bare feet were in sandals, the leather straps fraying badly.

  As Nancy looked, he tugged at Dino’s jacket sleeve and spoke in a low, angry voice. Equally angry, Dino threw off the detaining hand and tried to walk away. But the young man was persistent, following his quarry to the private motoscafo Dino had hired, clutching at his arm all the while, his voice rising in volume. Francesca, she saw, had already settled herself in the boat.

  The vaporetto docked at that moment and Nancy had no option but to climb aboard. She made sure, though, to keep the motoscafo in sight. When Dino finally shook himself free of the boy’s grasp, he almost ran to the boat, jumping across the gap to the deck and leaving his assailant, shoulders slumped, watching as the craft pulled away.

  ‘My goodness, who was that?’

  Leo shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea but Dino is a wealthy man. I imagine he gets all kinds of cranks importuning him.’

  He walked into the cabin and she went to follow, but then thought otherwise. ‘Do you know who that was?’ she asked Concetta quietly.

  ‘The boy? He is painter.’

  ‘Of houses?’

  ‘No, no.’ Concetta wagged her finger. ‘You trick me. He is painter.’ And she drew the shape of a canvas in the air. ‘Renzo ’Astings. I know his mother.’

  ‘Hastings? But that’s an English name.’

  Concetta wagged her finger again. ‘Not English. American.’

  ‘The boy we saw is American?’

  ‘Sì, but his mother born here. I know Sophia at school. Come—we sit down.’

  ‘Before we do, tell me—why is he in Venice? And where are his parents?’

  Concetta sighed quietly and leant her thin frame against a steel pillar. ‘His father back in America, I think. His mother, who knows?’

  ‘So he is on his own? I suppose that would explain his clothes.’

  The maid nodded. ‘No money,’ she said succinctly. And before she could be detained any further, stepped into the cabin and found herself a seat.

  Nancy said no more, but Concetta’s words had sent her mind whirring. The connection between that young man and Dino had to be paintings—what other could there be between a penniless artist and a wealthy collector? The crate she had found on the Andiamo had been filled with paintings, so was Renzo Hastings involved in whatever scam was being practised? And if so, how precisely?

  He had come to San Michele when he looked as though he could barely afford the vaporetto fare. It had to be to find Dino. He must be desperate. He would know about the funeral—the whole of Venice must know—and the cemetery would be the one place this morning he could be certain of finding the man he sought. The one place, too, where he could actually get to him. There was no office door to act as barrier, no palazzo gates to hinder.

  ‘That young man is a painter. He looked desperate,’ she said aloud to Leo.

  ‘He probably is—for work. Maybe in a weak moment Dino promised him a commission, but hasn’t made good on it.’ He took hold of her hand and smoothed it with his fingers. ‘Don’t be too concerned. There are a dozen young men in Venice like him, eking out some kind of living.’

  She looked down at her hand lying in Leo’s and knew she must tell him her suspicions. Renzo’s appearance on the scene had convinced her, but even before that she had begun to think that Leo should know. It was her husband and not Archie to whom she should turn. It was Leo who loved her.

  She shrank from the trial ahead but it was crucial she speak before Leo set off for Rome. He would be authenticating a picture he had helped Dino Di Maio buy and Nancy was concerned that his professional standing might be placed in jeopardy—if Dino were ever found to be involved in illegal dealings.

  *

  The search for the papers Leo needed was as prolonged as he’d feared, but by the time Concetta served the evening meal, his briefcase and a small overnight bag for emergencies were packed and waiting in the lobby. The two of them took their time over dinner—a bake of chicken and pasta and a shared bottle of Soave. Archie had disappeared to his own room on the fourth floor and a relaxing evening should have lain ahead. But once Concetta had cleared away and they had moved across the huge landing to the salon, Nancy took a deep breath and began on a speech she had been rehearsing for hours.

  ‘Leo, there’s something I need to talk to you about, before you leave for Rome.’

  ‘I was hoping there wouldn’t be too much talking this evening. After a sad day, kisses might be more in order.’

  ‘Yes, those, too,’ she said swiftly. ‘But there is something worrying me and I need to tell you before you go.’

  ‘That sounds ominous.’ But he was smiling as he spoke. ‘Come and sit down.’ He pulled her onto the old sofa and for a second they rolled together. ‘These springs don’t get any better, do they?’ He gave a small laugh. ‘Now what is it? I can’t have you worried—not any more.’

  ‘It’s Dino. I think he may be embroiled in something bad. And if he isn’t, then Salvatore is. You seem quite involved with Dino’s business and I think you may need to be careful.’

  Leo’s smile grew indulgent. ‘Bad? In what way, apart from the Francesca affair? I can’t imagine you want me to do anything about that little liaison.’

  ‘No, of course not. I think it’s shocking—they are so blatant—but it has nothing to do with us. It’s a private matter. But this isn’t.’

  He looked at her expectantly and she steeled herself. ‘Yesterday, when we were on Dino’s yacht, I went to the bathroom on the bottom deck, but I walked the wrong way. In the gloom I nearly tripped against a wooden crate. I thought it strange that it was stored there, at the end of a passage that went nowhere. It was bound with steel hoops and quite plain with no indication of its contents. The lid must hav
e been removed at some point, and then nailed back again, but not very securely. There was raffia, straw maybe, escaping from the gap that had been left.’

  ‘Forgive me, darling, but is this going anywhere?’

  ‘It is,’ she said firmly. ‘I bent down to look through the gap and I saw gold.’

  ‘Real gold?’ He looked bewildered, the indulgence gone from his face.

  ‘Not real gold. Gold leaf, I think. The frame of a painting, that’s what it looked like. I think the crate contained paintings.’

  ‘It’s possible. Dino is an avid collector. But you know that.’

  ‘But if they were paintings he’d bought, why were they stuffed in a wooden box on his boat?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. Perhaps he purchased them elsewhere—a place he’d visited on the yacht—and hadn’t had time to unpack them. Does it matter?’

  ‘It seemed to matter to Salvatore. He appeared out of nowhere and threatened me.’

  ‘You must be mistaken. Why on earth would he do that?’

  ‘That’s the point. He wanted to deter me from exploring further. And I am quite sure he threatened me. I should know what that feels like by now.’

  ‘It could simply be that Salvatore was protecting his employer. He obviously didn’t like the sight of you poking around in his boss’s possessions. And really, he was right.’

  ‘But what if those possessions were stolen goods?’ Last night’s conversation with Archie loomed large in her thoughts.

  Leo laughed out loud. ‘Dino hoarding stolen paintings! My dear, he could probably buy the Accademia. I exaggerate, but no, he has no need to engage in criminal activity.’

  ‘He might if he’s not as wealthy as people think. Luca Moretto isn’t, is he?’

  ‘I’ve no detailed knowledge of Moretto’s financial state, but if you mean that most of Venice knows his business hasn’t been doing well, then his lack of funds is fairly common knowledge. But if people know that, they also know that Dino is very successful. And why would he be dealing in stolen pictures? It’s a ridiculous suggestion.’