Venetian Vendetta: The Tremayne Mysteries Series Read online

  Now several card games came into view—blackjack? poker?—and that was a baccarat table, she was sure. Archie pointed ahead: the roulette wheel was where he was headed.

  A circle of well-dressed men and women ringed the roulette table, which took up the centre of the room. Nancy stood with Archie behind the seated players, trying to look inconspicuous. She had never been in a casino before and its louche atmosphere made her uncomfortable.

  There was a reverent silence as chips were put down across the felt board, stacked one on top of the other, and the croupier gave the wheel a sharp turn. The ball ricocheted around the bowl, the noise loud in the silence, all eyes riveted on the whirl of metal and colour as it slowed and slowed and finally came to a halt. The croupier’s rake was swift and snake-like. In one movement, he swept the losers’ chips towards him and nudged a few to the winner. Then a repeat of the same motions—the flurry, the spin, the fixed eyes nailed to the spinning ball.

  Nancy’s eyes roved around the punters. She was looking for Salvatore, but he was not among them. But then he wouldn’t be. Common sense told her that a working man could never compete with these compulsive gamblers.

  Halfway round the circle of people, she spotted Francesca, dressed in yet another silk sheath, this time one of midnight blue. Nancy’s eyes slid leftwards and there was Dino right beside the woman. Not in Rome as he should have been, but here, just as Archie had foretold. Had he left Leo waiting uselessly in Rome?

  Archie waited for three complete throws of the roulette ball, watching Dino all the time, but when the man moved away from the table, he followed him.

  Dino had just raised a glass of wine to his lips when Archie pounced. Nancy remained standing feet away from the little group. She saw the look of surprise on Dino’s face and the distaste on Francesca’s.

  ‘Archie!’ There was a forced heartiness in Dino’s voice. His eyes, Nancy noticed, told a different story. They were hard, wintry. ‘How are you? Come to try your luck? And you’ve brought…’ He peered over Archie’s shoulder. ‘Mrs Tremayne. Nancy! Well, well.’

  Archie dispensed with any courtesies to swoop immediately on his goal. ‘I’m looking for Salvatore. I thought I’d find him here.’

  ‘You would have, old chap. A little earlier. I’m afraid he left for home a few minutes ago. Back to his lovely Luisa.’

  ‘Can you tell me where home is? I have a particular reason for seeing him.’

  ‘Have you?’ The eyes bored further into Archie’s face. ‘And does that go for Mrs Tremayne, too?’

  Archie ignored the comment. ‘Well?’ he demanded.

  ‘Come on, Archie, you must know I can’t divulge my employee’s whereabouts.’ The tone had reverted to hearty and sounded even more false this time. ‘That would be abusing his privacy, wouldn’t it? But perhaps I can help?’

  ‘Perhaps you can.’ Archie’s chin jutted and Nancy saw his fists begin to curl. She stepped in front of him.

  ‘How nice to see you again, Dino,’ she said. ‘And you, too, Francesca. Such a wonderful trip you gave Leo and myself to Burano. It was such a pity that Mr Moretto missed it, but I’ve been thinking that perhaps we could organise another small journey before Leo and I leave Venice. We are here for a few more days.’

  Francesca looked decidedly unexcited by the prospect and Dino merely took another sip from his glass. ‘Is Mr Moretto here tonight?’ Nancy went on. ‘If he is, perhaps we could arrange it this very evening.’

  She was being unbearably pushy, but she needed to give Archie time to calm himself. And it was important to know if Luca were indeed here. If he had been with his wife and Dino at the casinò all evening, he could not have been the attacker, and Archie must be right about Salvatore.

  ‘Luca has gone out for a breath of fresh air, but he’ll be back very shortly,’ Dino said smoothly. ‘It can get very stuffy in here. But it’s a wonderful idea, Nancy. We should plan something stupendous, shouldn’t we, Francesca? A leaving party for you both.’

  And that was all they were going to get. Salvatore had been here earlier and, though Dino would undoubtedly know what had happened at the boathouse this evening, he was giving nothing away. He was as impervious as a chunk of agate, and to stage any kind of showdown here, in a gathering of the rich and fashionable, would be stupid. She hoped dearly that Archie would see the uselessness of it and come away quietly. If he really must settle his score with Salvatore, he would need to find the man elsewhere.

  She nudged Archie’s sleeve and he took her hint. He wasn’t going to make a scene and she breathed relief. They said their goodbyes, Nancy falsely eulogising over the trip that would never be, and was nearly at the door when out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a familiar figure.

  Leo! It couldn’t be. Leo was in Rome, wasn’t he? He had phoned Archie and told him to book a hotel for the night. But then Dino was supposed to be in Rome, too, and here he was, three hundred miles away. What was going on?

  It was evidently something that Leo wanted to know, too. He put down the drink he was carrying and strode across the room to them.

  ‘What on earth are you doing here, Nancy? And Archie?’

  She thought his tone unfriendly and didn’t answer. Instead she bounced his question back. ‘What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Rome.’

  ‘I came back with Dino. He kept on the helicopter from this morning and gave me a lift. I thought I’d have a drink with him to celebrate a successful day, then be on my way home to surprise you.’

  ‘But I thought you weren’t able to complete the business today.’

  Leo’s hunched shoulders relaxed a little. ‘The police relented in the end. The dealer was still unwell and likely to be for several days, so rather than keep us kicking our heels in Rome, they decided that our testimony alone would be sufficient.’

  Dino had wandered up to them while they were talking and overheard this last remark. ‘They did indeed. And the paintings will be with me tomorrow. Isn’t that splendid?’ His smile this time was genuine. ‘But why don’t you all stay? We can make those arrangements we talked of, Nancy. And you may be lucky at the tables. Luckier than I’ve been.’

  ‘Or me.’ Francesca had joined them now. ‘But Nancy might feel uncomfortable, we mustn’t press her to stay. Unless of course she’d like to go home to change…’ The woman gave a small moue in Nancy’s direction.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Leo said firmly. ‘We have to be getting home.’ He looked down at Nancy and his eyes held the coldness she had come to dread.

  ‘Another time then?’

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ Leo said insincerely, picking up his briefcase and putting out his arm to shepherd Nancy ahead. Archie was already through the door and walking up the stairs towards the casinò entrance.

  Leo caught up with him there and swooped. ‘What the hell’s going on, Archie? Why are you here, and why is my wife with you?’

  ‘I came to find Salvatore.’

  ‘Salvatore? Why would you want to see him? He was here, but left a while ago.’

  ‘So I understand. He’ll keep.’

  Archie made a move towards the arched entrance doors, but Leo stopped him with an outstretched hand. ‘What I don’t understand is why you brought Nancy on a fool’s errand and in dreadful weather.’

  ‘He didn’t,’ Nancy intervened quickly. ‘Archie didn’t bring me.’ Archie looked as grateful as he would ever look. ‘I brought myself. I wanted to see a casino, that’s all. I’d never been to one before and I was becoming bored at the palazzo.’

  She tried to inject a degree of ennui into her voice, though in reality her mind and body were in a state of tension. She didn’t understand why Leo had not returned home immediately. He’d made the journey from the Lido airfield, so why not ask to be dropped off at the palazzo? And the story of the art fraud police, previously so rigid in their demands but suddenly wonderfully amenable? Was any of it true? Had Leo actually been to Rome?

  Her husband gave her another ha
rd look. ‘We’ll talk of this later. We need to get back in case the fog gets any thicker.’

  The fog hadn’t stopped him visiting the casinò, Nancy reflected. The bad weather should have made his return home more pressing, but he’d come here instead. And if she hadn’t accompanied Archie, she would never have known. Leo wouldn’t have told her, she was pretty sure.

  Despite her best efforts, suspicion was growing. Why hadn’t her husband phoned to say he wasn’t staying in Rome after all and would be back this evening? There had been time to tell her he’d changed his plans. A surprise, he’d said, but somehow that didn’t fit. In the short time Nancy had known him, surprises had been noticeably absent. Would Leo have returned home tonight, if she hadn’t seen him here?

  And how much did he know of this evening’s events? He’d seen Salvatore, he said, but had he heard what the man had to say to Dino? Salvatore would have reported the break-in at the boathouse as Archie predicted, and if Archie had recognised Salvatore in the dark then the opposite must be true. Salvatore would have recognised Archie and relayed his suspicions to his employer.

  If Leo had heard … he would know his assistant was guilty of breaking and entering, and suspect that his wife was just as guilty. But he had said nothing of it. Was that because he had things to hide himself? Did she have to add Leo to the three she’d already found guilty in her mind? And where was Luca in all of this? It had been a long breath of fresh air he’d taken.

  The questions kept churning as she passed out of the lobby and into the fog once more. Apparently they were to walk home. The weather had improved slightly, but the alleyway leading from the casinò was still very dark, a solitary street light burning only dimly. Archie was slightly ahead of them while she walked beside Leo, but her husband made no attempt to offer his arm.

  Suddenly Archie stopped and raised his hand. Then he bent down and seemed to roll something over.

  ‘What is it?’ Leo’s voice was sharp, slicing through the stillness.

  ‘Who is it I think is the question.’

  ‘Let me see.’ Leo pushed ahead and bent down beside Archie.

  ‘It’s too dark, boss. We need a light.’

  A man came running up behind them at that moment from the direction of the casinò. ‘Professor Tremayne,’ he shouted. ‘Your holdall, sir—you left it in the cloakroom.’

  ‘Damn the holdall, man, do you have a light? If so, bring it over here.’

  The urgency in Leo’s voice had the uniformed man fumble in his coat pocket for a torch. ‘Here.’ Archie pointed his foot at whatever was barring their way. Nancy had begun to shiver. She knew it must be a body and that was bad enough. Two dead bodies in as many weeks. But she had a horrible premonition of whose body it would be.

  And she was right. The torchlight flashed downwards and there he was. Luca Moretto. His staring eyes looked glassily up at them, a thin trickle of crimson bisecting his throat. But even worse, his mouth was wide open, and stuffed with crumpled banknotes.

  Nancy ran to the side of the canal and was violently sick.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It was the small hours before they arrived back at the palazzo and, by then, Nancy was asleep on her feet. The casinò had called the police once the news of Luca’s death became known, and the officers who attended the scene had insisted their small party go to the Questura to give signed statements. But it hadn’t finished there. Interviews had followed. A detective plodded through what seemed hours of questions with each of them individually, and it was only when he seemed satisfied that none of them were involved in Luca Moretto’s untimely death that they were allowed to leave.

  It was clear from the detective’s questions that the police were hoping to pin the man’s death on a particularly violent mugging. His wallet apparently was missing and a gold watch had been taken from his wrist. But the lire notes stuffed in his mouth were a challenge to the theory. They suggested bitterness, some kind of personal message to Luca, rather than a random killing. Unless, the detective had mused, they were dealing with a mugger who nursed a particular hatred of the wealthy along with a desire to rob them.

  It was unlikely, Nancy thought, but not inconceivable. What was inconceivable was a second member of the Moretto family meeting a violent death within weeks of each other. This new tragedy, coming so close on the heels of the last, had Nancy scrabbling to adjust. She could no longer think of Luca as a potential killer; like Marta, he had become a victim himself. But why had he died, if not in a random attack?

  Was it for the same reason that Marta had died? Perhaps the signora had enjoyed a closer relationship with her son than first appeared and confided her fears to him. He was, after all, helping to run the Moretto business, and if she were concerned for the reputation of the Venice art world, he must be, too. If so, he had followed his mother in paying the price for that knowledge.

  Nancy slept badly during what was left of the night. The image of that poor, mutilated body haunted her as soon as she closed her eyes, but made her more determined than ever to get to the bottom of this deadly mystery. She had little confidence in the police investigation. The detective who’d questioned them had seemed disinclined to stretch his imagination further than a mugging, but she knew if she were to be believed, she would need to bring him hard evidence that Luca had been deliberately targeted by a determined and ruthless adversary.

  *

  Her eagerness to keep probing received a severe check the next morning, however. Leo had risen early and skipped breakfast to bury himself in his office. Nancy had no idea what he was doing—she would have expected any issues from the conference to have been settled by now. It added to the unease she’d felt last night, the awkward questions concerning Leo’s movements. She’d tried hard to quash the worries but it was difficult, and made no easier by the fact that her husband had barely said a word since their return home.

  It seemed important to smooth things over between them and she asked Concetta to make a tray of coffee that she could take to the office herself.

  Leo must have sensed her standing in the doorway, and looked up. ‘Nancy! I’m glad you’re here. I was coming to find you. I have to go out later this morning. The police telephoned an hour ago and they want me back at the Questura at one.’

  ‘But why?’ She set the tray down on the desk. ‘You gave a statement last night. We all did. What more can they want?’

  ‘They’re interested in how much I knew of Luca’s business dealings.’ He laid back in his chair, twirling a pen through his fingers.

  ‘But you know nothing about them, do you?’

  ‘No. I tried to tell them that, but they were adamant they needed to see me.’

  She handed him a coffee and sat down on a heavily carved upright chair. ‘Perhaps you won’t be too long. We could walk out together when you get back. See some of the places you haven’t had a chance to show me yet.’

  He frowned and dropped the pen onto the desk. ‘I doubt there’ll be enough time. And to be honest, I’m not in the mood for sightseeing.’

  ‘I know,’ she sighed. ‘That poor man.’

  ‘I’m exceedingly sorry about Luca, naturally, but it’s you that’s causing me more concern.’

  Startled, she put her cup down too quickly and spilled coffee into the saucer. ‘Me?’

  He took up his spoon and stirred slowly. ‘After last night, why do you sound so surprised? What were you thinking, going out with Archie, who happens to be my assistant, on such a filthy night and to the casinò of all places?’

  ‘I told you.’ She tried to speak calmly, but felt a ripple of annoyance. ‘I was interested to see the place. And I hadn’t expected you back. You never phoned. You could have, of course, and then I wouldn’t have gone.’ Nancy hoped that was pointed enough.

  ‘There was no chance to telephone,’ he said curtly. ‘And my movements are not in question here.’

  ‘And neither are mine, Leo. Unless of course you see me as some kind of bondswoman, destined
to go only where you choose.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous. I see you as my wife. And I think you’ll agree that as such you must be careful to behave in a way that doesn’t encourage talk. How do you think I felt, seeing my wife accompanying my assistant to a place such as the casinò, and dressed like a… a…’

  ‘Ragamuffin?’

  ‘Not a ragamuffin, of course. But out of kilter certainly. It made you look an oddity—Francesca noticed it.’

  ‘Francesca is the worst kind of woman. How dare you cite her judgement as something I should care about!’

  ‘I accept that, but if she thought it, so did others. As I say, how do you think I felt seeing my wife in such a place when she should be safely home?’

  ‘The same, I imagine, as I felt seeing my husband in such a place when he should have returned to the palazzo the moment he was back in Venice.’

  ‘The case is not the same.’

  ‘It’s exactly the same.’ Her tone was fiery. ‘Or are you saying that a wife is not equal? I’d no idea you were so Victorian, Leo.’

  ‘I’m saying no such thing, and you know it. But it does my professional reputation no good, Nancy—and yours neither for that matter—for my wife to behave in the fashion you did last night. I hope you’ll forget such nonsense in the future.’

  ‘You can be sure I will check with you every time I wish to leave the house.’ She got up sharply, thumping her cup down on the tray. ‘Now may I go? Is that servile enough for you?’

  Leo jumped up, too, and took hold of her hands. ‘You are an independent woman. I recognise that. I don’t see marriage as binding you to me in the way you suggest. It would be preposterous to think so. But what I see is that we should be together in the way we do things. We should be making this marriage work as a couple. Not, as so often it seems, being at odds with one another.’

  She lowered her head, feeling the justice of his words, and was about to say so when he continued, ‘You worry me, Nancy. You’ve developed some strange ideas since we’ve been in Venice. I know, I realise, that much of it goes back to your troubles in London but I can’t stand by and let you cause problems for yourself—and for me. Not to mention Archie. Have you thought of the gossip you must have provoked last night?’