“After the party I came here. I was very tired from all the dancing. I went to bed and fell asleep almost at once.”
“You had seen a woman appear, looking like your deceased best friend. You had seen the consternation of her husband, his new wife, the others there, and you just went home and fell asleep?”
“I was tired.”
“And this morning? The rest of the day? You have not been in touch with the Banthams?”
“I have been here, painting and playing the piano. A nice restful day after last night’s exertions.”
It wasn’t a straight answer; being at the house didn’t prevent her from having been in touch with the Banthams. Someone could have come over, had a note delivered to her. Someone had let her know about the death, the bridge.
Jasper said, “If you have to name someone who would have wanted Lady Bantham dead, who would you choose?”
“Me? Name someone?”
“Yes. You knew her well before she – disappeared. Shall we call it that? She wanted to vanish, didn’t she, be free? Who hated her before she vanished?”
A twitch around her mouth suggested some strong emotion whirled through her but she didn’t speak. Did she realize she would have to name herself as someone who hated Lady Bantham?
Or was she thinking of someone else?
“Everybody liked her.” Her voice was strained. “Of course I can’t tell anything about the people she associated with when she was in town. I wasn’t with her there. She might have made an enemy. Some jealous woman who thought she had been too friendly with her husband. She dearly loved to flirt. She didn’t mean anything by it…”
She fell silent a moment and then said, her eyes lighting, “But why should the murder have anything to do with the people from her past? Don’t the new people around Lord Bantham stand to lose a lot more? His wife, her brother. Yes, you should really talk to Arundell. He’s up to something. I don’t know quite what it is, but I have a feeling it involves Bantham’s purse. Bantham is very interested in ways to make money – people take advantage of him.”
“You have an idea how Mr. Arundell wants to achieve this?”
“Of course they never discuss business in my presence. I’m but a woman who knows nothing about shares and stocks. And gold.”
“Gold?”
“Yes. All I know is that Bantham mentioned a golden future. I don’t think he meant it the way people usually do. I think he meant it literally. A future with gold from the mines Arundell inherited from his father.”
“And what would be so wrong about Lord Bantham taking an interest in these mines?”
“Nothing of course. But Arundell has a way with words. He… is a little too smooth for my liking. Besides, do you believe there is a place where gold is found that is actually called Goldfield?”
“Arundell makes his money in a place called Goldfield?”
“Yes, in Nevada. He probably thinks we will never be able to verify if it exists.” Larissa laughed. “A man has to be cleverer than that to sell me something. A gold mining area called Goldfield. Honestly…”
Jasper made a mental note to look into this further via his English contacts. To her he said, “One never knows what the naming conventions are in another country. And how many people do you know who simply call their dog Blacky because his fur is black?”
She scoffed. “My dog is called Cleopatra after the queen of the Nile. You should be glad she’s sleeping right now as she doesn’t like men. She tore Arundell’s trousers to shreds. She must have detected at once that he’s a scoundrel.”
“I will bear that in mind.” Jasper rose to his feet. “Thank you for speaking with me, Miss Kenwood. I trust you have no intentions of leaving Venice soon?”
“No, I want to support Lord Bantham and his wife at this very difficult time.”
“Of course.” Jasper walked to the door. “Do you have any idea where I might find Mr. Arundell?”
Larissa Kenwood checked the wristwatch she wore. Its delicate silverwork shimmered in the light. “At this time of day he’s probably practising his sword skills.”
“Sword skills?”
“He’s an experienced fencer.”
A long, thin blade, Jasper thought. “And where does he go to fence?”
“There’s a gymnasium on the Calle Pierto. Do you want me to write down some directions for you?”
“No, thank you, my gondolier will find it.”
As he stepped into the bright sunshine, it struck him how she had been like the wind in her replies. Reticent one moment, freely sharing the next. Probably depending on the direction she wanted him to take in his investigation. She had seemed rather eager for him to see Arundell. He was himself keen on questioning the roguish highwayman about last night; a lady with a red rose clasped in her hand and gold mines in Nevada.
Chapter Fifteen
Arundell stepped forward and extended the arm with his épée in a swift motion. The tip touched the mounted target just below the shoulder and he retreated and struck again, this time touching the épée to the chest. Strike, retreat, strike, retreat.
Sweat trickled down his face as he heightened the speed and varied the spots where his weapon struck home.
A loud sound as of flesh hitting flesh made him jerk. He swung round with the épée ready to lash out. A man stood by the door, clapping his hands, slowly, the echoes reverberating off the ceiling. He shouted, “Very well done.”
Arundell felt like putting his épée to the fellow’s throat and tell him to never do that again, but as the oaf probably had no idea how he had startled him, he just faked a smile. “Thank you. Do you wish to duel?” He squinted to see the man’s face better but the light coming from behind him outlined him like a mere shape, keeping his face in the dark.
“No, thank you. It looks rather difficult.”
“It does take practice.”
“And knowledge, I suppose.” The man studied the target. “Of the human physique as well. Do you know exactly where to strike to find the heart?”
“Fencing is a sport, not a murder method,” Arundell retorted. He wiped the sweat off his face with his sleeve and threw the épée down. Enough for today. The physical exertion had driven last night’s events from his mind, but now the whole depressing situation came back to him and he wanted to push past the stranger and run into the street, just keep running to let the sweat on his face cool.
But Venice was all narrow alleys and too much water. No freedom to run here. No freedom whatsoever. He should not have come here, but he had hoped Bantham would be in a good mood, a little reckless perhaps, ready to sign the papers.
“I saw there is a bar upstairs,” the stranger said. “May I offer you something to drink?”
“Let me treat you, to the best wine made in the Veneto region. I trust you drink white wine?”
“If it’s the best Veneto produces, I’m eager to try it.”
“Good.” Arundell couldn’t detect from the man’s clothes how well-to-do he was, but who knew if he had some money to spend? The word ‘gold’ had a magic ring to it for most people. He smiled to himself as he walked over to the man who turned away from him and went ahead, up the flight of stairs to where the gymnasium’s bar was.
The Italian barkeeper was refilling the jar with ice as they came in. Arundell ordered two glasses of Casa Castel Verduzzo and followed the stranger to a table. “If those proud Italians allowed a stranger to buy shares in that vineyard, I’d jump at the chance today.” That was already nicely paving the way to shift the conversation to shares in gold mines.
The stranger seated himself opposite to him and gave him a serious look. “I don’t know if it is appropriate that we toast to good health as one of us has died this morning.”
Arundell froze now that he could see the man’s features in the clear light that fell in through the tall window. It was the jaeger from last night who had also pursued the woman in red and then asked him too many questions. Hadn’t he said he had investiga
ted Lady Bantham’s car accident in England, three years ago? A policeman…
“Died?” he repeated as if he didn’t know what the man was referring to.
“Yes, an English lady killed on one of the bridges.”
“Venice has rather too many,” Arundell observed. A drop of sweat trickled down his nose making his face twitch. “You are English as well, I gather. On holiday here, or for business?”
“A holiday that has turned into business.” The man extended his hand. “I didn’t introduce myself last night. Jasper. I used to work for Scotland Yard.”
Arundell shook his hand. “Really?” Not a country constable, but a Scotland Yard man.
Watch your step. “So you’re professionally interested in this death?”
“Do you know who I’m referring to?”
Arundell decided there was little point in playing dumb. “I do, yes. The lady was at Sir James Lovelane’s party last night. She made quite an entrance.” He whistled. “It can be dangerous to draw a lot of attention to yourself.”
“You went after her as she left.”
Another drop of sweat slid down Arundell’s cheek and hung on his jaw, before dripping into his neck. Good thing the former inspector had just seen him fencing or he might think it was nerves. “Yes, but only to find out who she was and… I already told you last night that Lord Bantham is my brother-in-law. I didn’t like the way he responded to her appearance. I feared she was some sort of… mistress and was going to make trouble for my sister. I only wanted to ask her what she wanted and perhaps offer her some money to stay away from the family. But I never caught up with her.”
“And now she is dead, meaning she will stay away from the family for good.”
“You make it sound rather macabre.” Arundell didn’t avert his eyes. “Or rather, accusing.”
“The lady was stabbed from behind with a long, thin blade. I have just seen you at work. You could certainly have stabbed her.”
“I told you, épées are for sport, not for killing. If you had looked better at the weapon before I put it aside, you would have observed the tip is not sharp.”
“But fencing gave you a swift hand and knowledge of what to aim for.”
Arundell wanted to reply, but the barkeeper brought their wine. A former inspector sampling fine wines at my expense while cornering me about my supposed involvement in the murder. What a joke.
Arundell raised his glass, his eyes daring the inspector. “To a speedy conclusion of your case.” He leaned over and asked in a confidential tone, “Do you already know in what direction to look? If not, I can be of assistance.”
“Really?” The former inspector’s eyes were cold and probing. “You did not know the late Lady Bantham, did you? I mean, your sister met Lord Bantham later so how could you possibly assist me?”
Arundell widened his eyes as if he was very surprised. “You’re looking for motive in the past? Going back to that old situation in England?” He expelled breath as if he just couldn’t believe it. “You must not know what… Let me enlighten you. Last night after the woman had made her appearance on the balcony and I followed her for a spell but couldn’t catch up with her, I returned to the party. I found my sister had been carried off in a state of shock and I went to the room where she rested. As I came in, softly as not to disturb her, I saw two people standing over the sofa she rested on. Her husband and her so-called best friend Larissa Kenwood. I’m saying so-called, Inspector, because I clearly saw, before my eyes, how Miss Kenwood leaned over to Bantham and looked at him with a look I can only describe as… adoring. Because neither of them had yet seen me, I stood there and watched how Miss Kenwood acted like she wanted to comfort Bantham while she was manoeuvring herself ever closer to him. It was disgusting. He, however, had no eyes for her, or for poor fainted Penelope, but only moaned that Olivia was back. It made Miss Kenwood rather furious. Yes…” He nodded as he picked up his glass of wine. “I think she could easily have killed dear Olivia then and there.”
“So you think she went after her and killed her? But the woman had escaped you. She was long gone, you said. How would Miss Kenwood have found her?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about that and I suppose that, if that woman appeared to scare Bantham, she slipped him a note to say what she wanted. A meeting, a sum of money paid. Bantham, in his distress, must have shown the note to Larissa, Miss Kenwood, and she acted on it. She went to the assigned spot and killed the woman. She would go that far for Bantham.”
“Is there a reason for you not to like Miss Kenwood?”
Was there a reason for him not to like a woman who had thrown herself at him in a darkened garden to use him as a decoy, to hide her passion for a married man? “I’m merely telling you the things I saw with my own eyes. Miss Kenwood is a strong woman, so I’m certain she could stab someone if she was angry enough.”
“And the rose?” Jasper said slowly.
“Excuse me?” Arundell took another sip of cool wine. The perspiration on his brow began to dry up and his confidence returned; he could deceive the former inspector, lead him astray and escape scrutiny.
“The dead woman held a rose in her hand. She must have picked it from a vase of roses nearby. Clearly an ornamental piece as you have so many frills here around Venice.”
“A rose,” Arundell repeated, his mind racing. “See, she slipped Bantham a note and was waiting for him. Or no…” His entire being grasped at the chance he saw to drag Larissa into this so deep she’d never get out. “It must be a sign.”
“A sign?” Jasper repeated.
“Yes. Larissa wore a costume decorated with countless tiny roses. When her victim died, she plucked a rose from a nearby vase to leave a hint for the police as to the killer’s identity. Imagine her being stabbed from behind, feeling that cold steel slide through her and life beginning to trickle away… She staggers to the vase, extracts a rose and falls to the ground, clutching it as a silent testimony to the killer’s identity. Her finger pointing at the right person, even after death.”
“Very poetic, something for the plays or operas that the Venetians are so fond of. There the victims of murder always have time and energy for entire arias before they succumb to the wounds inflicted. I’m afraid that real life is different. A stab through the heart kills instantly.”
Arundell shrugged. “If you are certain it was a stab through the heart. From behind that must be difficult. Have you already heard a doctor’s opinion?”
To his satisfaction the other flushed. See. Jasper was out of his depth here, interfering with something that was none of his business. Thinking he was so smart. That he could solve a case even after retirement. But his arrogance would become his undoing.
“You’re in the gold business, I heard?”
Arundell’s happy mood deflated. Careful now, watch your step. “My father went to Nevada and we still have shares in a mine there.”
“You were also raised there, I understood, on a ranch?”
“My sister likes to talk about that. She romanticizes it. It was a beautiful country, but I am happier here in Europe.”
“Is Lord Bantham in business with you? With regard to these shares, and Goldfield?”
How did he know about Goldfield? Arundell gestured to the barkeeper. “More wine!” Then he looked at Jasper again. “No, my brother-in-law has no interest in that sort of thing. He’s more of a country estate squire, riding his horses and organizing hunting parties for his friends. He doesn’t have the explorer blood my father had.”
“And your sister? Is she happy with him?”
“Are women ever happy? They are always wanting something new, something special. She’s a tender little thing who needs lots of attention and frankly, he’s not the type to give it to her.”
“But she realized that too late? She did marry him.”
“Yes, yes, I warned her about it, saying he was a pompous stick and all, but she didn’t want to listen.”
“Yes,” Jasper said pensi
vely, looking into his wine glass. “I wonder what will happen now that Lord Bantham knows he was never legally married to her. I can imagine that if the marriage wasn’t happy, he will welcome—”
“What are you implying?” Arundell hissed. He struck the table with his fist. The barkeeper who had just brought the new wine inched back with a stunned expression.
“That he can simply tell her – we were never married, now pack your bags and go? I will not allow it. It would break her heart. Her reputation would be in tatters, her honour besmirched. I’ll make sure he does right by her.”
“Marry her again?” Jasper asked. “Or just buy her off? Would money be ample compensation for the time and energy she spent on him?”
“I find your conversation suggestive and in bad taste.” Arundell rose and threw some money on the table for the barkeeper. “Just because you were with Scotland Yard, you don’t have the right to insult people at will.” He stalked two paces away and turned. “If I find out you have been spreading slander about my sister, I will sue you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Arundell, for your time.” Jasper smiled as if he was perfectly at ease with the turn things had taken. “We’ll meet again, I’m sure.”
* * *
Jasper hummed to himself as he hurried through the narrow alley to meet Luigi at the boat dock. Overhead washing flapped on a line and ahead a stray dog sniffed a dirty rag. As Jasper made a loud sound, the dog lifted his head, looked at him and then fled around the corner. Jasper thought with regret of Red at home, probably weary with his master being out all day. But having to visit people at their homes, he didn’t feel comfortable taking the dog along. They would spend some time together soon.
Luigi waved at him from a distance. He seemed very excited about something, shouting as soon as Jasper stepped onto the dock. “I found him!”
“Who?” Jasper queried, lowering himself into the gondola.
“I told you that when there is a party, tramps gather around to watch. I talked to several. Then I found him. The man who saw the struggle. Poor lady. She had no chance against him. A tall man, he said, strong. A monk.”
Under the Guise of Death Page 12