Luigi nodded. “I will make sure they can’t ever find her. Venice is like a maze when you don’t know it.”
“Oh, Inspector?” Rose looked at them from the table, a bit of cream on her cheek. “I do remember one more thing from Agnes’s letters.”
“Yes?” Jasper leaned over encouragingly.
“Lady Bantham had an argument with someone on the telephone. Agnes overheard. She was cleaning the stairs and Lady Bantham was below in the hallway. She said something like, ‘If you don’t give the money to me, I’ll tell everyone what I know about you’. Agnes was terrified thinking she was blackmailing someone. Might that help?”
Jasper looked into her clear blue eyes. Agnes’s letters were gone. Burned as she had asked Rose to do. All he had was Rose’s word that Agnes had overheard an argument, had sensed Lady Bantham and Lord Bantham weren’t happy. That Lady Bantham had male friends. And so on.
A shaky foundation for any theory.
Especially if he kept in mind that Rose herself had been here in Venice when Lady Bantham had died. If the girl had somehow managed to kill her, she would of course now want to divert suspicion by pointing the finger at as many others as possible. Her earlier mention to him of having seen someone leave the house in the night could have been a conscious lie.
Could he trust even a single thing she said?
“Did Agnes write letters to others while she worked for Lady Bantham? Or just to you?”
Something flashed in Rose’s eyes, a moment’s anger or suspicion? He wasn’t certain. Then she said, “She had no one but me.”
Luigi said, “She has to eat her torta now. She’s all pale. I will take care of her. Don’t you worry.”
Oh, Jasper wasn’t worried about that. He just didn’t know if he had done the right thing in choosing to protect Rose from her vindictive employers.
He might be protecting the killer he was looking for.
Chapter Eighteen
Larissa Kenwood threw a small ball. It bounced across the floor and rolled to a stop against the wall. Cleopatra’s eyes followed its path, her ears went up, but she didn’t move from her embroidered pillow.
“Lazy monster,” Larissa muttered.
The Pomeranian turned her head in her direction and barked. The loud indignant noise tore at Larissa’s ears. Even the dog seemed to shy away from her these days. As if she knew.
The door opened and a servant announced, “Mr. Arundell.”
Before she could reach up and check her hair, he was already in the room, striding up to her.
Cleopatra shot off her pillow and ran to him, yapping.
Arundell quickly jumped onto a chair and snapped his fingers at the servant. “Get that animal away from me.”
Cleopatra stood against the chair’s twirled legs, her teeth snapping at Arundell’s shoes. The servant went to an embellished brass pot with a miniature orange tree and struck the pot with his knuckles. A sound reverberated on the air, just like the gong announcing dinner. Cleopatra perked up and ran out of the door, expecting to get whatever luxury treat was on the menu today. The servant bowed and closed the door.
“Servants are so ingenious,” Larissa said to Arundell. She had to suppress laughter at the sight of this tall, dignified figure perched on the chair, like a woman afraid of a mouse. “Frighteningly so, at times.”
Arundell jumped down from the chair and landed on the carpet in a thud that reverberated through the wooden floor. The anger in his eyes echoed in the same way, reaching up through her body and driving a flush into her cheeks.
“I can’t believe you actually did it.”
“Did what?” Larissa asked, confused. She backed up a step.
“Do you really think that man, Jasper, won’t be clever enough to figure it out? How you hungered after your best friend’s husband and then when she was dead couldn’t have him? How you hunger after him still and have now killed said best friend so she won’t take him away from you again?”
Larissa’s cheeks flamed. “How dare you.”
Arundell laughed and closed in on her. “The lady acts indignantly but I don’t believe her. You see, Jasper came to see me and he asked a lot of questions about you. You and Lord Bantham. I couldn’t determine if he just suspects you or thinks Bantham is somehow a part of it too. That you set it up together. But I told him that, if he is looking for someone who stabbed another in the back, you’re the best candidate.”
“You’re a monster,” Larissa whispered.
Arundell shook his head. “You’re the monster. A pretty face and a black heart underneath. You don’t shy away from any tactic to get what you want. Not even murder.”
“I had nothing to do with Lady Bantham’s death.”
“The first or the second time?”
“The first time she didn’t die, obviously.”
“But perhaps you helped her?” His eyes surveyed her with a cool disdain. “Someone had to go to the pawnbroker in London and act as the maid selling off some of the jewels. That could have been you.”
“Act as a maid? That is far beneath my station.”
“Not if money is involved. You never have enough of it. Your banker told me you are heavily in debt. That you can’t prolong your lifestyle much longer.”
“My banker would tell you no such thing.” Larissa straightened up. “Go away. I can’t stand to look at your arrogant face.”
“I told Jasper you might have helped Lady Bantham create the illusion of her death and he seemed to readily believe it. He also seemed to think it was likely that as she appeared here, shattering that illusion, you would want to meet up with her and ask her why. The two accomplices of old, meeting, on a bridge. A stab and…”
Arundell smiled at her, a slow predatory smile. “Jasper wanted to know where you would have found a knife to stab with. I told him about your fan. Your little toy.”
Larissa felt cold seep into her very bones. She should not have been so coy with him, telling him about her secrets.
“You did carry a fan to the party, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but another one, to fit my costume.”
“So the fan with the dagger hidden inside it is still here, among your things? I’m certain the police will be very interested in it. To compare the blade with the wound found on Lady Bantham’s body.”
Larissa’s mouth was dry. She looked him over. “You told Jasper about my fan?” She tilted her head, assessing him. “Why would you? To help him solve Lady Bantham’s murder? That’s not like you. You’re not a helpful man. You don’t care for justice. You are only self-serving, and cold as the grave.”
Arundell bowed. “I will take that as a compliment.”
She continued, her eyes searching his expression, “You would not just tell him things because you want him to think well of you either. Knowing you, you have told him absolutely nothing worthwhile.”
“If I haven’t, why would I be here to speak with you about the murder?”
“Because you want something. In exchange for your silence.” Her heart beat fast willing it was so. That he had come to tell her he had spoken with Jasper, but only to frighten her, to show her what might be the consequences if he did speak with Jasper. He hadn’t done so yet and he never would. If the price was right.
“What do you want?”
“The emeralds you wore to Lady Cleveland’s birthday party in Paris. The full set – tiara, necklace, bracelet and eardrops.”
“You must be raving mad. Do you know what that set is worth?”
“Yes. I had ample time to study the stones up close.”
Her cheeks burned at his careless reference to their rendezvous in the garden, away from the festive crowd. If only she hadn’t been so desperate for distraction. He had seen right through her and now he wanted the gems.
Perhaps he had only wanted the gems to begin with. “I can’t dispose of them. They aren’t mine.” It stung her to have to admit it, but it was true. “The set belongs to my sister.”
�
�I know.”
“You know and still you ask for it?”
“Because I want it. And when I want something, I go after it and take it.”
Larissa bit her lip. Arundell’s knowledge of her fan weapon, innocently shared to impress him, was now incredibly dangerous. And his suggestion that she had helped Olivia disappear at the time sounded plausible, plausible enough to impress the former inspector. After all, if Lady Bantham had not died in the car, he would conclude that the maid, Agnes, probably had and then somebody else had pawned the jewellery. But perhaps she could claim it had been Lady Bantham herself?
No, the pawnbroker would have remembered her startling green eyes. He would have probably been shown a photograph of Lady Bantham wearing the missing jewellery and then he would have said that it was herself. Jasper would understand it had to have been someone else. An accomplice.
“You see you really have no choice,” Arundell said. “Hand over the emeralds.”
“I don’t have them with me. Do you really think I would carry such a precious set on a journey? They could be stolen.”
“I think you are carrying them with you because you are extremely vain and want to show them off. Hand them over to me now.” Arundell closed in on her.
“If you come any closer, I’ll scream. I’ll say you tried to attack me, hurt me.”
“Please do. In that case the police will come and I can tell them that you lost your temper and jumped at me when I told you I have proof you killed Lady Bantham on the bridge.”
“Proof? You call that set of ridiculous suppositions you just offered proof?” She tried to sound scornful and flash her eyes.
Arundell shook his head slowly. “You underestimate me, darling.” He put a mocking stress on the last word. “I don’t make promises unless I can keep them.”
His look drove blood into her cheeks. Why had she ever allowed herself to become entangled with this man?
Arundell continued in a low voice, “If you go up to your bedroom and search your belongings, you will find your fan is missing. The police will find it on the bottom of the canal right beside the Ponte della Musica. Used to stab Lady Bantham, then thrown into the water to get rid of the evidence.”
“The water would have carried it away. It flows. It is deep. It…” Larissa fumbled grabbing for a hold, any hold.
Arundell shrugged. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. Do you really want to risk it? Once the inspector has a suspect in sight, he doesn’t let go. He will look into everything. He will find out about your love for Bantham. It will give you a perfect motive. And if you did help Lady Bantham escape, you also knew who died in that car. Lady Bantham was a danger to you, and you had to get rid of her. It all fits perfectly.”
“You cannot have made my fan disappear. You’re lying.”
“Go and look.” He held her gaze. “I’ll wait right here.”
“If you have access to this house, somehow, and can have taken the fan, you could also have taken the emeralds.”
“So you admit you have brought them here?” His eyes sparkled.
She pushed on. “You could have taken the emeralds, if you want them that badly. You have not been able to get to my fan. I know it.”
“I’m not a thief. I don’t need to steal the emeralds. You will give them to me of your own free will.”
His arrogance dazed her. That he would really dare to do this, come in here and speak to her like that. But did she have a choice?
She reached up and pressed a hand to her forehead. “I have to think about this.”
“No. No playing for time. You have a choice now. You bring me the emeralds. Or I go to Jasper and I tell him everything.”
Larissa stood motionless. She was almost certain that if the police went to the Ponte della Musica and dredged the water for a fan hiding a dagger inside they would find nothing. The water in the canals was much deeper than you would suspect at first glance and there was always a current. A fan was a pretty light thing, even with the steel inside.
But did she know for sure? Could she take the risk? The risk of being arrested and charged for the murder of Lady Bantham? Because of this despicable man who stood grinning at her like some shark.
The emeralds weren’t hers. She could just give them to him and then tell her sister later they had been stolen. She could make up some story. It didn’t matter now. All that mattered was surviving this situation. One step at a time.
“I will go and get the emeralds.” She walked past him to the door, her heart beating like a drum in her ears. Because this was not the end of it. This was only the beginning. From now on this man would have a hold over her. And every time he wanted something, he could squeeze and make her bleed.
Bleed her dry.
Chapter Nineteen
“I want you to stop the investigation.”
Jasper looked up from the table on which he had spread out all of his notes. Vernassi stood in the doorway, filling it with his broad figure. “I cannot have you harassing citizens over the death of someone who already died three years ago. The case is closed.”
“Harassing citizens? Did someone complain to you? Who?” Jasper sat up straight, leaning his hands on the table’s edge.
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that this woman is dead and buried. She rests in the crypt of her family in some shire as you call it. She cannot have died here. I’m forbidding you to go on with it.”
“You can’t and you know it. I’m not using your police force or your resources. I’m questioning my fellow Englishmen and… Ah. I see. A citizen of Venice. Marcheti.”
Vernassi spread both his hands in a gesture of mock disbelief. “How can you barge into his house and bother his pupil who is on the brink of death? I cannot tolerate that. I have to tell you to stop.” He paced the room. “Regardless of our friendship.”
“And regardless of the fact that the pupil in question might be a killer?” Jasper watched Vernassi. “That man is obviously disturbed. I saw him attack his master and almost strangle him. He fought with Lady Bantham in an alley and fled believing he had killed her. He is violent and unreliable. Marcheti knows this and condones it because of his musical talents. Or rather because of the way in which he profits from his musical talents.”
“You can’t just say such things about respected citizens of our beautiful city. You must stop angering people.” Vernassi halted and looked at him. “You English have a good saying about a bull in a china shop. You are not a bull in a china shop, Jasper, you are an entire herd of bulls.”
“My friend…” Jasper lifted a pleading hand. “I know you take your job very seriously. You will not let injustice pass. Neither will I. We’re on the same side, pursuing the same goals.”
“I’m not pursuing any goals. I’m not looking into this woman’s death. She is already dead, on your territory. I’ll let her father take the body away from here, home to England. And then it is over.”
Jasper looked at the determination in his stance. “Just give me one more day. Twenty-four hours to solve it and find out which one of them did it. I am this close.” He held up his hand, forefinger and thumb half an inch apart.
“You can’t be this close,” Vernassi imitated his gesture with a scowl, “because you have barely had time to work on it. Solving a murder can take weeks, months. I know you have a reputation, but you’re not supernatural. You’re only human.”
“Yes, and because I’m only human, I made mistakes three years ago. I readily accepted what I saw and heard without asking more questions. I should have known that the accident wasn’t what it appeared to be. I now have a chance to set it straight. To find out what happened back then and what has happened to Lady Bantham now. Let me do this. Also for her father’s sake. Sir James is very upset by her death.”
“By her death or by the idea she has been alive for three years and she never let him know? She walked away from her life and let everyone believe she was dead. She was interred in that crypt with her family gathered around crying. Im
agine that. If she was my daughter, I could just…” Vernassi narrowed his eyes. “Kill her.”
Jasper looked him over. “You consider Sir James a viable suspect?”
Vernassi shrugged. “You accuse Leonardo Biancci, who is a beloved artist in my city. I look at your people, not caring for names and titles. Sir James may be an aristocrat but that doesn’t make him immune to human feelings. He could have killed her. Have you considered it?”
“Indeed, I have.” Jasper gestured across the notes in front of him. “I have made a full suspect list and everybody is on it. Her husband, her father. The new Lady Bantham, her brother.” His hand hovered over the sheets with their names and some information he had gathered. “I’ve been digging into their pasts. Because they were raised in America, my contacts in England can’t tell me that much about them. I’ve sent some telegrams to America, hoping that will answer some questions.”
“America is a large country. What do you expect to find?”
Jasper smiled. “It’s a large country, but George Arundell is only connected to one place. Goldfield. I should be able to find out something there.”
Vernassi looked him over and sighed. “Other men on a visit to Venice would want to see the city, visit a museum, sample wine and toast to the dolce vita. But you are like a hunting dog who can’t be happy unless he’s on a trail. Unless he can follow the scent of blood.”
Jasper tightened a moment. Was he really that obsessed with murder? Or rather with solving it? Was it true that while he sighed about the cases unfolding around him – first on the Riviera, then on Kalos, now here – he was in reality eager to be on a case again, to shed the monotony of being retired, of having time on his hands without knowing what exactly to fill it with?
Vernassi gave him a knowing smile. “I understand, my friend. But I must ask you to be very careful. Marcheti is a powerful man. He can make life hard for me if he wants to. In the past, he complained about several merchants who had made deals with merchants from other cities about prices to ensure they made more profits than others. Such things happen and there is usually no drama, but Marcheti ensured that the merchants were all shunned by their friends and customers. Several of them lost their businesses as no one wanted to deal with them any more, and one of them even lost his life. Angry workers broke his windows and threw torches into his house. He and his wife died in the flames. Marcheti probably doesn’t even remember as this is thirty years ago, but I remember. I don’t want my name written in a letter shoved into a lion’s mouth.”
Under the Guise of Death Page 15