Starling (19 page)

C

ass’s breath went shallow. She had expected Belladonna or Piero, perhaps even Angelo de Gradi or one
of Dubois’s men. But she had never expected to find
evidence of Cristian de Lambert at Palazzo Viaro. He
was supposed to be gone. Dubois had sent him away for good, at least

that’s what Luca had assured her.

She needed to leave right this instant. But she also needed to know
who was on the fourth canvas. Luca believed that Cristian had killed
his little sister, Diana, when she was only six years old. Was it possible?

Cass glanced back at the narrow doorway before hesitantly creeping closer to the fourth picture. The light from the candelabra barely
reached the edges of the canvas. It wasn’t a painting of Luca’s little
sister.

It was a painting of
Cass.
Cristian had painted her like the rest, hair loose, hand reaching
out for him, but the work looked unfinished. Her dress and expression lacked detail and the colors were a little off—her hair too red,

•
43
•
her lips not red enough. She reached out and touched the canvas.
With one fingertip, she traced the tiny X carved over her heart.

She turned to the pedestals and went to the one in the center of the
room. Atop a swatch of velvet sat a flat stone box carved to look like
a miniature coffin. Cass lifted the lid. The box was full of keepsakes:
a golden charm bracelet, a small glass bottle of rosewater, a lace
handkerchief embroidered with the initials
MC.
It was a shrine to
Mariabella. A macabre collection of mementos for a girl whose life
Cristian had taken.

She moved to the next pedestal. Inside this coffin lay a ruffled
chemise and a twist of golden brown hair. Was this from the murdered maid, Sophia?

Cass moved to the third shrine. A chill raced up her spine when
she lifted the lid. This box contained what appeared to be a human
skull.

Luca had seen the paintings at the exhibition and believed that
R
was Cristian’s mother, Rosa, a prostitute who had often come to call
on his father at Palazzo da Peraga. Cass’s insides churned as she
peeked into the box once more. This time, since she knew what to
expect, the skull was a bit less frightening and a bit more intriguing.
Could this
really
be the remains of Cristian’s own mother? Cass had
known he was crazy, but this surpassed her wildest imagination.

Replacing the lid, she turned toward the fourth pedestal, a combination of fear and rage welling up inside her. What was going to be
inside her own shrine?

With a quick tug, she used both hands to remove the lid. Inside
the box was a brown leather book. Her old journal. Cristian had stolen it after she collapsed at Madalena’s wedding. He had taunted her