The Devil in Music (23 page)

"And
a good thing, too," MacGregor declared. "Now, what about
Carlo Malvezzi? He had nothing to gain from his brother's death, but
every reason to hold a grudge against him. They were political
enemies, and Lodovico's side had come uppermost. Lodovico was rich;

Carlo
was poor. To crown all, Lodovico had possession of the villa Carlo'd
taken such pride in. Carlo was in Milan at the time of the murder,
just a few hours' journey from the Lake of Como. Couldn't he have
killed his brother in a fit of resentment?"

"I
can't see him going to the trouble and risk of committing a murder
out of pure spite. He's practical, for all his idealism. Throwing
in his lot with the French when he did may have been altruistic, but
it was also very astute. France's star was rising in Milan and
Carlo's rose with it."

Julian
went on to recount his interview with Raversi. "I must admit,"
he finished ruefully, "I have little idea how to probe the
possibility that a secret society killed Lodovico. Such a society
may not exist anymore, and if it does, how are we to find out who its
members are? The only avenue I can see to pursue is to consider how
Lodovico might have become dangerous to a secret society. That means
examining his close connexions to determine who among them might have
betrayed information to him, either intentionally or inadvertently.
But this is a line of enquiry I can only discuss with you or Dipper.
Raversi is right in one respect: I'm fighting this battle blindfold.
You and Dipper are the only people I can be certain aren't Carbonari
yourselves."

MacGregor
pronounced himself in no mood to be dragged off to the opera, from
which Julian deduced that his friend was worn out and wanted his bed.
He arranged to meet MacGregor for breakfast early the next morning,
preparatory to their departure for the lake. MacGregor felt Julian's
forehead and pulse, and reluctantly owned he did not seem feverish.
Julian made himself scarce before MacGregor could do violence to his
evening clothes by wrapping a piece of flannel around his throat.

Since
this was his last night in Milan, he was obliged to call at all the
boxes where he had been made welcome, to take his conge. From one of
these boxes, he had a good view of the marchesa's box across the way.
The seat beside her was innocuously taken by her brother-inlaw. Just
behind her sat Gaston de la Marque, the Frenchman with the trick
eyeglass. He was leaning very close to her, and even across the
theatre Julian could read desire in his manner and his eyes.

He
felt his own hackles rise. He tried to tell himself it was no
concern of his whether there was anything in the nature of a love
affair between them. Once before he had felt if not love, some
stirrings of

tenderness
for a murder suspect, and the results had been disastrous. He would
not, must not repeat the experiment.

Even
so, there was one thing he could not resist. He extricated himself
gracefully from the box where he had been conversing and made his way
around to the marchesa's box. His entrance, of course, obliged the
guest who had worked his way furthest to the front of the box to
depart. De la Marque saw who had ousted him, and a smile spread
across his face. He and Julian bowed to each other with great
civility. Then de la Marque took his leave of the marchesa, kissing
her hands as lingeringly as courtesy allowed.

After
de la Marque had gone, the other guests moved up one seat and resumed
their gossip, flirtation, and occasional comments on the performance
on stage. The rotation of guests propelled Julian forward, till at
last he reached the seat behind the marchesa's.

Tonight
she had forsaken her favourite white for a black satin gown with
sleeves of transparent black tulle, caught at the wrists with
bracelets. Julian had already observed that she liked bracelets.
The one on her left wrist varied, but the one on her right was always
the same. It consisted of strands of tiny seed pearls and a heavy
gold clasp set with a large ruby.

She
and Carlo greeted Julian warmly and congratulated him on his mending
health. Julian told them of the unexpected arrival of his friend Dr.
MacGregor, who had been of immeasurable help to him in solving two
previous murders. The marchesa at once invited MacGregor to join
their party at the villa. Julian put up the requisite polite
resistance, then accepted.

"Maestro
Donati is coming as well," said Carlo.

Julian
frowned. "Do you think that's wise? He seems frail, and this
murder has already put him through a considerable ordeal."

"Our
friend the commissa rio insisted on it," said Carlo. "He
said he wanted someone at the villa who was there at the time of the
murder, so that he could ask him about any evidence he finds. That
does seem sensible."

"Monsieur
de la Marque is coming, too," said the marchesa calmly. "I've
just invited him."

Carlo's
brows shot up. So it's like that between you, is it? his eyes
conveyed.

Julian
felt torn. As an investigator, he was elated at the prospect of
finding out more about the mysterious Frenchman. As a man, he would
like to put a continent between de la Marque and the marchesa. The
investigation must come first, of course. He wondered how often, in
the days to come, he would have to remind himself of that.

Julian
returned to the Bella Venezia at about one in the morning. Dipper was
busy preparing for their departure on the morrow: inspecting Julian's
linen for rents and smudges, brushing his coats, and polishing his
silver-handled razor, comb, and nail scissors. No matter what hour
Julian came home after a night out and in London it might be any time
from midnight to mid-morning Dipper was always awake and at work. He
slept in short naps, at odd moments, like a cat.

All
the while he helped Julian undress and prepare for bed, he could talk
of nothing but the Gerolamo puppet theatre, where he had gone tonight
with some of the Malvezzi servants. "Them puppets dresses so
flash, sir, it's like the Lord Mayor's parade! And they plays the
drums and capers about and sings a rum chant, just as if they was
alive! One of 'em was cutting jokes, and I didn't twig much of what
he was saying, but just to see him wink and flash his ivories 'most
made me fall off the bench with laughing."

Julian
listened indulgently. At length Dipper paused, then said, "I
was thinking, sir, as how you might like me to make friends with the
marchesa's maid, Nina."

"She
wouldn't happen to be uncommonly pretty?"

Dipper
looked meditatively at the ceiling. "Now you come to mention
it, sir, she's climber enough."

"It's
noble of you to offer to cultivate her on my behalf."

"She
could be useful, sir. She's been with Her Ladyship for nigh to five
years since before Marchese Lodovico was hushed."

"Has
she?" Julian's interest quickened. The maid was indeed a
promising source of information about the mistress. Yet it repelled
him to think of invading the marchesa's privacy by coaxing her maid
to betray her secrets. And the very strength of his revulsion
determined him to nip this partiality in the bud.

He
said briskly, "I should like to know more about the marchesa's
trip to Belgirate: how long she stayed, what she was doing, whether
she had any visitors. If Nina was her maid at the time, she must
surely have accompanied her. So by all means improve your
acquaintance with her. I give you carte blanche."

And
Julian retired to bed, never dreaming that this permission would very
nearly cost him his life.

PART

THREE

September-October
1825

With
all its sinful doings, I must say, That Italy's a pleasant place to
me .. .

George
Noel Gordon,

Lord
Byron

Beppo

Next
morning a cavalcade set out from Casa Malvezzi for the Lake of Como.
At its head was the Malvezzis' grand barouche, its top let down to
give the occupants a view of the countryside. The carriage was
painted a brilliant black, with the malvezzi crest blazoned on either
door. The wheels were picked out in flame-red, and a cloth of the
same colour, embroidered with the family crest in black and gold, was
draped over the box. The horses were a pair of splendid bays, their
heads held high, their harness spotless. Whatever economies a
Milanese aristocrat might practise behind closed doors, his
belongings meant for public display were always dazzling.

The
marchesa rode in the barouche, a white silk parasol shading her face,
an ermine-lined cloak resting lightly on her shoulders. With her
were Carlo, Julian, MacGregor, and de la Marque. Since there were
only four passenger seats, Julian and de la Marque took turns riding
on the box with the coachman.

Behind
the barouche came a smart yellow chariot bearing Maestro Donati, his
"Eyes" Sebastiano Borda, and Lodovico's manservant Ernesto.
Because the marchesa had no other carriage to place at Grimani's
disposal a fact she conveyed to him with mock solicitude the commissa
rio rode in a hired chaise with Paolo Zanetti, a police clerk he had
brought with him. Zanetti was a short, square man of about thirty,
with a face perpetually glistening with sweat, which he mopped with a
limp white handkerchief the size of a small tablecloth. He obviously
lived in abject terror of Grimani. Julian wondered why his name
seemed familiar, then recalled the notation, Translated by Paolo
Zanetti, clerk, on Grimani's dismissive letter a few days ago.

Evidently
Grimani did not speak English and had brought Zanetti to remedy that
lack.

At
the rear of the procession were two waggons drawn by mules, their
necks draped with garlands of late-blooming flowers. These waggons
carried luggage, together with any servants the marchesa had not sent
on ahead to prepare the villa for her arrival. Among the servants
were Dipper and the marchesa's maid, Nina Cassera. Dipper was
devoting himself to Nina, and Julian readily understood his
enthusiasm for the task. She was a slender, fairy-like girl, no more
than two-and-twenty, with large brown eyes and hair of the deep, rich
auburn common in Milan.

Julian
noticed one servant who kept apart from the others. He was a robust
man of about sixty, big-boned and sinewy, with narrowed dark eyes
that gave nothing away. His skin was swarthy, his hair black with
only a sprinkling of grey. He was not in livery, but wore a brown
coat and waistcoat almost too fine for his rank, a sleek top hat and
gold rings in his ears.

"Who
is that?" Julian asked Dipper, when they were both walking
about to stretch their legs while the procession was halted at the
Porta Nuova, Milan's northern gate.

"That's
Count Carlo's servant, sir Guido Gennaro. I've only just met him
today he don't mix much with the other slaveys. They don't cotton to
him, but that could be 'coz he's a foreigner. He comes from Naples."

Julian
was amused to find that Dipper had picked up the local habit of
considering Italians from other states as aliens and enemies. "How
does Carlo come to have a servant from so far away?"

"I
dunno, sir."

"Find
out what you can about him. He's the servant Carlo claims to have
brought with him to Milan, when he came to sell off his property at
the time of Lodovico's murder. I should like to know what he
remembers about their stay."

"I'll
have to go, sir."

"But
be careful. Neapolitans are a dangerous breed hot-tempered and prone
to settle their disputes with steel."

They
rejoined the others. The procession left the city behind and set out
across flat, fertile cropland, pleasantly green but wearying in its
sameness. Then hills appeared in the distance: lofty grey ridges
dotted with houses and draped in wisps of cloud. Gradually the grey
slopes turned to green and were seen to be heavily wooded. Further
off, drifting in and out of view as the clouds thickened or
dispersed,

were
the solemn, snow-capped peaks of Monte Bisbino and Monte Generoso.

The
Lake of Como ran from wild Tyrolean regions south to the Lombard
plain. Halfway down its length it divided, pointing one long finger
southeast and another southwest. At about two o'clock, the
marchesa's party reached the fortified gates of the town of Como, at
the tip of the southwestern prong. Austrian soldiers in uniforms of
white or sky blue and silver eyed the crested carriages with cautious
approval. Custom-house officials requested the travellers' passports,
and retired with beaming faces and generous bribes.