The Alchemist's Pursuit (30 page)

Silence.

“You see, Jacopo,” the Maestro said, “nobody wants Zorzi back. Domenico and Bernardo would have to share the
fraterna
; their mother would get beheaded for murder, and you would be out of a job. That's why the women are dying—because Zorzi was with one of them that night and she can give him an alibi. Without that he dare not return.”

This was very much what I had suggested the previous day and been mocked for. Jacopo was not the only one spinning yarns.

“You asked why donna Alina hired me to expose the real killer. Because to clear Zorzi's name, I must find the woman who can give him an alibi. Remember that Alina insisted that my contract be changed—you yourself wrote in the change. She wants to be the first one I inform of that woman's identity. Then the witness will be exterminated before the Ten's
sbirri
can get to her. Understand?”

Jacopo folded his arms, but he towered over the Maestro and Violetta in their chairs, and I dropped my pen, bracing myself to leap to their defense if necessary.

“This is sewage, pure sewage!” he said. “You are crazy. How can you possibly find a particular whore, not just on the morning after but eight years after?”

“I have found her. The last companion named in this book,” the Maestro continued, “is ‘Tonina Q.' Zorzi spent the night before the murder with Tonina, but she is mentioned many times before that, and I have established that he did, in fact, visit her the following night also. That fact was not recorded in the book, doubtless because of the tragic event that occurred then. Tonina was married and not a courtesan, but her first name really was Tonina, Tonina Civran.”

“It's not as glamorous as ‘Violetta Vitale,' ” Violetta said.

I realized my jaw had fallen open, and closed it. Fortunately she was looking down at her hands, not at me. “I was very young and very poor, so I was married off to a man very old and very rich. Then I met Zorzi, who showed me what I lacked. We were so in love . . . I simply cannot describe the difference he made to my life. It was spring after winter, it was daybreak. After his father's murder, he insisted I must not come forward to testify, but I was terrified that he might be accused of the killing. I went to my husband and told him what had happened. I said that I would have to report this to the Ten. He ordered me out of his house—but by then Zorzi had already fled to the mainland. After that I needed to earn a living, and I knew only one way I could do it.” She gave Jacopo a wistful smile.

He made a skeptical noise, which I was hard put not to echo. “And just how did Doctor Nostradamus find you?”

“I found him. I live next door in Number Ninety-six. Alfeo and I are friends. When my friend Lucia was murdered, I asked the doctor to hunt down the killer for me, and that murder turned out to be related to Gentile Michiel's. Venice is not so enormous that such things cannot happen.” Smile again, sadder than before.

I did not believe a word. She had never been Tonina Civran. The Maestro had put her up to this; it was worse than merely using her as bait. It was human sacrifice.

“So she will clear your brother's name,” the Maestro said. “Alfeo, when will you have the report ready for the Ten?”

“Not long, master,” I said, not knowing what answer he wanted.

“Good. Go and tell your mistress, Jacopo, that I shall send Alfeo over with my report this evening. If she wants to catch the next
traghetto
across to Mestre first, that is her privilege, but I shall claim my fee.”

Jacopo took a step closer, young and big and angry. I gathered my feet under me, ready to leap if he made a hostile move.

“You're a wrinkled old fraud,” he told the Maestro. “That Basilica was swarming with priests and nuns. I have two other siblings who could have taken that dagger, and at least one of them was in the Basilica that night.” He turned and strode over to the door.

“Wait! Jacopo, do you know the meaning of the word ‘entailed'?”

He turned, glowering. “Tell me.”

“It refers to property that can only change hands by inheritance. Donna Alina inherited her wealth when her brothers died in the plague. No matter what she may have promised you, those lands and buildings must pass to her own children when she dies. Any documents she may have given you regarding them are worthless.”

He did not change color, for anger had already made him pale, but the blow hurt. “What do you know of it? You're lying!”

“No, I am not the one who is lying. Ask your brothers if you don't believe me. Jacopo, you are very naive compared to them. They let your mother squander wealth on you, but they can put a stop to that whenever they want, and they can drop you like an anchor whenever they want. You still have time to go to the chiefs of the Ten and tell them what you have done. Alfeo will go with you and deliver the book as evidence. I am sure Their Excellencies will be merciful if you go now, before they send the
sbirri
for you.”

Jacopo spun around and threw the door open. I sprang up and followed him out. The twins were still there, still hoping for a glimpse of Violetta when she left, and a long, lingering stare would be even nicer.

I told them, “Tell your father we need . . . Never mind.” Giorgio was already hurrying along the hall. I bowed to our departing guest. He had been entertaining, if not enlightening. “Giorgio will see you home,
lustrissimo
. Hopefully we shall meet again this evening.” I opened the front door.

“Don't count on being let in,” he said.

“Signor Fauro?” Violetta called, emerging from the atelier. “You won't mind if the doctor's boatman drops me off at my door?” Awkward on her pillar shoes, she reached for his arm, and of course he offered it. She rewarded him with a smile that made the twins sigh audibly and almost made me choke.

I wanted to hurl him down the stairs rather than let her touch him. I wanted to scream at her to be careful, because she had been chained to the rock like Andromeda, fodder for the monster.

I
went down one flight to the balcony and watched to be sure that Violetta disembarked safely at Number 96. Only then did I return to the atelier. The Maestro was making a painful progress back to his favorite chair and I was too furious to offer him a steadying arm.

“Was there any truth at all in any of that?” I demanded. “Violetta was never Tonina Civran. She cannot clear Zorzi's name. You scoffed when I suggested that the courtesans were being murdered to stop one of them giving him an alibi.”

“Offhand”—he sighed, easing back into comfort—“no. I mean I cannot think of any significant facts being correctly included in our conversation, except Sister Lucretzia's participation in transporting the diary. You notice that Fauro did not correct his story about the dagger? Of course he was very young at the time and may not remember events correctly, so that falsehood may not have been deliberate.”

“You are staking Violetta out as bait!”

He nodded sadly. “The only alternative I could see was to enlist demonic help, and that would be especially dangerous in this case. A dark spirit powerful enough to block a major sin like murder would put up enormous resistance.”

“She'll get murdered!”

He chuckled softly. “You think you are the only brave person in the world? She knows the risk and agreed without a moment's hesitation. She will be well guarded. We have baited our hook and must wait to see who bites.”

“But if the Michiel killer is using hired brawn, then he'll be all you catch, not the real culprit.”

“But he will tell all his little secrets to the Ten.”

I winced. “Did you believe Jacopo when he said that either Fedele or Lucretzia was in the Basilica that night?”

“On balance, I am inclined to doubt that either of them had the seniority to get into such an august ceremony as the doge's Christmas Mass.” Nostradamus scratched his beard. “I know Zorzi wasn't there, which is what matters.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because the Ten would not be making such a fuss now if they were certain they had condemned the right man. The present Council of Ten is covering up for its predecessors and trying to protect its reputation.”

I slumped down in my chair and gathered up my papers. “And the Orio estate? Is it entailed as you call it?”

“I have no evidence, but I should be astonished if what I told him is incorrect. Patrician families keep family wealth where it belongs—in the family. Donna Alina had five brothers. That the plague would carry off everyone but she would have seemed so unlikely at the time their wills were drawn up that the prospect would not have been considered. The lawyers would have tacked on some standard paragraph giving her a life interest.”

That sounded very weak to me, evidence of how desperate he was.

“You really believe that Jacopo will go home and report to the murderer—whether knowingly or unwittingly—that Zorzi Michiel was with Violetta Vitale on the night Gentile was murdered? And that the murderer will dare act on that information?”

Nostradamus sighed. “There is an alternative. Jacopo deceives himself too, remember. He lives in a fantasy world of his own making. I hope that he will now see how dangerous his own position has become and go to the chiefs to confess. Pity him. He was reared in a palace, even if he did have to eat in the kitchen. If his father had lived he would probably have been provided with an apprenticeship, but apparently nobody else cared. Then, suddenly, he is offered more money than he has ever seen in his life just to dress up like the rich playboy noble he has always dreamt of being and haunt brothels. Do you wonder he succumbed? Or that he shuts his mind to what is happening as he tracks down the victims? Poor devil!”

Put that way, yes. If the Maestro had correctly analyzed Jacopo's role in these crimes, then he was going to be yet another victim of whoever had murdered Gentile Michiel.

“It must be time for dinner,” he said. “Afterward you will write out our interview with him in fair and prepare a report for the chiefs of the Ten. I dare not withhold that diary from them any longer.”

 

 

My master had his priorities, but I had mine. I gobbled my dinner and made all speed for Violetta. The fastest route was by way of the roof, of course, but if the security at Number 96 was as tight as it should be, I might have to spend more time explaining myself than I would save. I ran downstairs instead.

I found Antonio outside the door of Violetta's suite, supervising a carpenter who was installing three massive bolts. She was on the inside, supervising both men. She was also clad in a loose house gown, being long overdue for her day's helping of sleep.

She flashed me a smile. “I've decided to stop you sneaking in on me at ungodly hours in the morning.”

I blew her a kiss and went around the corner to the kitchen door. My key worked, but the door would not open. Then I heard bolts being drawn; I was admitted. We completed the kiss in proper form, ignoring Milana's smiles in the background.

“This is madness!” I said when we paused for breath. “If you must be bait, at least come and stay with us next door, where you will be safe. We have an excellent guest bedroom.”

She touched the tip of her tongue to the end of my nose. “Oh, and wouldn't you like that!” She was dark-eyed Helen, ready to tease me to distraction.

“Wouldn't you?”

“For a day or so, I suppose. Not enough variety for longer.”

“Vixen!” I kissed her again.

She broke free. “I am safer here, my darling, because I have more protectors. Antonio has brought in extra guards—all good men he knows and trusts. We'll have guards on duty by night
and
day. Now we have bolts on both doors, as you can see, and it would take a cannon to break through these doors. I even canceled all my engagements for the next three evenings!”

I sighed and nodded; tried to kiss her again and was balked when she laid fingers on my lips.

“But,” she added coquettishly, “I will be lonely all by myself. I could use an extra bodyguard.”

“I know a good man!”

She smiled at me under her lashes. “So do I. Don't forget to bring your longsword, soldier.”

 

 

I took all afternoon to transcribe the Maestro's interview with Jacopo, because I was on tenterhooks and my mind kept wandering. I wondered how similar my report might be to the one our champion liar would deliver when he returned to the Palazzo Michiel. Would the killer, whichever of them it was, swallow the bait, or recognize the trap the Maestro had set? Had word already gone out to the hired assassin that another deadly task awaited him?

It was only when winter dusk was falling that I reached the end and passed the final sheet across the desk to the Maestro, who had been ostensibly reading Paracelsus's
Archidoxa
all afternoon, but had done much more frowning and beard tugging than page turning. He had followed my progress, page by page without comment. Now he scanned the ending and nodded.

“Not bad,” he conceded effusively. “It will suffice.”

Praise indeed! I had expected a dozen corrections at least.

“Now my report to the Council of Ten,” he said. “File copy first.”

He dictated a brief account of Violetta's plea that he track down her friend's killer, his discovery that there were other victims, and his efforts to prevent more killings. The name “Honeycat” had directed him to the Palazzo Michiel, and from there had come the enclosed book, believed to have been sent to him by donna Alina Orio . . . and so on. After this, not even an abbess rampant would keep the Ten away from Sister Lucretzia.