The Veils of Venice

by Edward Sklepowich

  And he had been an eccentric – for example, dressing in summer clothes in the depths of winter and sporting a black Inverness cape – which only endeared him to Urbino’s heart more, as the Pindars did.

  Urbino unfolded the next letter, written in October 1931 in London, where Fortuny was working on a lighting project for the Royal Academy, but, chilled as he was, he had lost his concentration and returned all the letters to the box.

  As he sat at the table, his eyes started to bring into focus an object in the collection that he had been staring at without actually seeing. As he took in its details, he realized that it was something he had not noticed in the collection on previous visits.

  It was an oblong wooden box the size of a small vegetable crate. It was designed as a miniature stage. Constructed of dark wood and lacquered, it rested on its longer side on a shelf. On one side of the box, a piece of Fortuny fabric, pleated in the way that Fortuny had devised, simulated a theater curtain. It must have been cut from a much larger swath of material. Across the top of the box was a carved ornamental panel with ‘Melponeme’ and ‘Thalia’ painted in cursive gold letters. On the stage of this miniature theater were small carved and painted wooden figures. Urbino went over to examine them.

  There were four figures, none higher than nine inches. It did not take Urbino long to identify them as caricatures of some of the house’s residents: Olimpia, Gaby, Ercule, and Apollonia. They were lined up as if receiving an audience’s applause after a performance. A delicately carved bouquet of white roses was at the feet of the Apollonia figure, painted flat black and holding a string of purple rosary beads. The black lace head covering that Apollonia wore all the time looked more like a snood and revealed a fringe of white hair.

  Urbino picked up the figure representing Olimpia. It wore a yellow coat spotted with black: an ocelot coat.

  Gaby’s voice startled him. ‘Alessandro!’ He almost dropped the figure. He put Olimpia back on the stage. He waited for Gaby to start spouting the words lurking within her cousin’s name, but instead she asked, ‘Do you like the theater?’

  ‘It’s very well done.’ He turned back to look at the figures. The whole effect was weird, but amusing. ‘Yes, I do like it.’

  ‘Alessandro is very talented. I told him he could put it down here. The museum hasn’t had a new addition since my grandfather was alive.’

  ‘Alessandro did it?’ Urbino had not been aware that Apollonia’s son was interested in woodcarving or carpentry. He had not been aware he was very much interested in anything. He was well past the age when he should have applied himself and found a job, but his main and only job seemed to be looking after his mother – and living off her.

  ‘Yes, our Alessandro.’ Warmth filled her voice. ‘He’s working on statues of Eufrosina and him. He wants to do the whole family of us under the same roof. He was so excited about the idea that I told him he shouldn’t wait until he finished the others to put these on display.’

  ‘How clever to have the names of the muses of both tragedy and comedy on the stage.’

  ‘That was my idea! Neither one alone suits us. Our family has had both comedy and tragedy. Often at the same time.’

  Gaby went over to the stage and picked up the figure of Olimpia. She rubbed it against her sleeve and replaced it, taking care that it was exactly aligned with the others as it had been before Urbino had examined it. She moved the figure of Ercule, whose roundness and spectacles had been exaggerated and who was wearing a long white robe, fractionally closer to Olimpia and away from the figure representing her. The Gaby figure wore a small red cap and a red scarf, and a gray, uniform-like outfit with pants.

  Gaby started to dust Alessandro’s theater with the orange cloth. Urbino bid her goodbye and brought the box upstairs to Apollonia. Bianchi was still there, sitting with her in front of scattered papers that looked like legal documents. She hardly said a word, took the box, counted the letters inside, and gave him a curt nod. It was his dismissal.

  It seemed warmer outside the Palazzo Pindar than inside. Sunshine fell from a pale blue sky, and even though a cold wind was blowing from the Dolomites, it had an invigorating effect. Most of the snow had melted, but wherever it lingered, it maintained a purity that provided refreshing accents to the scene.

  Urbino set out for the Campo San Giacomo dell’Orio. The calli were lively with local residents. Tourists seldom found their way into this area, even in the height of summer. In a few minutes, he was walking past the round-apsed church with its square brick campanile that dominated the large, but somehow secretive, square. Children, bundled up against the cold, ran across the stones and rode their tricycles.

  He went into a restaurant beside the canal and ordered a plate of tramezzini sandwiches and half a liter of red wine. As he ate, he picked up a copy of that day’s Gazzettino that someone had left on the table. He read the headlines, but nothing caught his interest. His mind was a jumble of many things, and they all centered on the Palazzo Pindar.

  The contessa had asked him to keep his ears and eyes open. Olimpia’s visit to the contessa, although apparently intended to quench any worries, had had just the opposite effect on him. His curiosity was fired even more.

  The time he had spent in the Palazzo Pindar had brought a few revelations. Ercule had showed something other than his usually genial side by mocking Gaby’s devotion to the collection and the absence of visitors. He had also made a point of emphasizing that the collection belonged to him and Olimpia as well, and not only Gaby.

  As for Gaby, she was as troubled as ever, and her attachment to the family collection was one of the symptoms of her illness. Olimpia and Ercule seemed concerned about her, as well they might be, and they seemed to have genuine feeling for her. But Olimpia’s dismissals of her fears of being in danger and Ercule’s barbs suggested that their concern and feeling might be compromised by more selfish elements.

  Gaby had confided her fears in Mina. Would she be inclined to confide them in him? He had known her for a much longer time, and there was his relationship with Barbara to recommend him further. By telling Mina, she might have hoped that Urbino and Barbara would become aware of her fears. There might be reasons she did not want to speak with either of them directly. Or maybe she had told Mina in the hope that she would say something to Olimpia, and not necessarily to Urbino or the contessa.

  Urbino’s thoughts returned to the collection, unusual in its inclusion of many disparate objects whose only reason for being together was that they were related to the Pindar clan.

  The latest edition to the collection was one of the strangest of all: Alessandro’s theater with the carved wooden figures of four living family members, and with those of him and his sister Eufrosina waiting in the wings to make their appearance. Was affection behind the curious effort? Or was it his intention to poke fun at his relatives by turning them into caricatures? Urbino was curious to see what Alessandro did with the figures of Eufrosina and himself.

  Urbino finished his wine. Fifteen minutes later he was crossing the Grand Canal in the traghetto that ferried passengers between Cannaregio and Santa Croce. The cold wind whipped against his Austrian cape and his eyes smarted.

  When the traghetto reached the landing at the Campo San Marcuola, he headed toward the Palazzo Uccello, which was in a quiet area of the Cannaregio between the Grand Canal and the lagoon. He kept going over Olimpia’s visit to the contessa. She had seemed determined that Gaby’s fears should be discounted. It had been the purpose of her trip, hadn’t it?

  But then Urbino, as he often did, considered the situation from the opposite point of view. This way of thinking often rewarded him with insights that might never have come to him otherwise.

  Suppose Olimpia’s whole purpose in coming to the Ca’ da Capo-Zendrini had not been to influence the contessa to discount Gaby’s comments but instead to take them more seriously? She had seemed pleased to find Urbino with the contessa. Perhaps she knew that her visit would have its devious effect more
surely and more quickly because of his presence. She must know that she could count on his skepticism, given his experience as a sleuth.

  Were Urbino and the contessa playing into her hands? What could her motive be? The Pindar family was fond of games, and this could be one of Olimpia’s, and a very serious one indeed.

  As Urbino crossed the hump-backed bridge by the Palazzo Uccello, another possibility, closer to his original one, occurred to him.

  Maybe Olimpia was not so much clever in making the visit as she was desperate to put them off a scent.

  Desperation or a game? Which of the two might it have been?

  Four

  The next day, after the contessa had taken lunch in the conservatory with only Zouzou as her companion, she waited for Mina.

  Earlier, she had told Mina that there were two pots of orchids that she could have for her room. Mina had said she would collect them after the contessa had her lunch.

  After the dishes were cleared away, the contessa walked around the conservatory, examining the plants. It was one of her favorite spots, especially in the winter. It looked very much the way it had when she had married the conte. An incongruous scattering of old sofas, chairs, footstools, small tables, and bookcases were set amidst the plants and flowers. Ivy twined in and out of the back of the cane sofa.

  Zouzou, from her position beneath the cages of parakeets, kept looking toward the door to the hallway. The contessa felt that she was waiting for Mina, too. It was one of the times of the day when Mina walked her. Zouzou was solid white – or as solid white as a cocker spaniel could be bred. Unfortunately, whatever genetic manipulation had made her white had also made her partly deaf – a disability that endeared her even more to the contessa and Mina.

  The contessa sat down in an upholstered chair between two potted palms and paged through magazines. When almost an hour had passed, the contessa went in search of Mina. On the staircase to the staff’s quarters, she met Vitale.

  ‘Have you seen Mina?’

  ‘Earlier, contessa. But she hasn’t come back yet.’

  ‘Hasn’t come back yet? Where has she gone?’

  The major-domo raised his eyebrows ever so slightly. ‘I have no idea. But she left an hour ago. I assumed she was going on an errand for you.’

  The contessa, who was protective of all her staff and especially Mina, nodded her head. ‘I’m sure she’s doing something that she knows needs to be done.’

  ‘Yes, contessa. Mina is a good worker, a good girl. None of us likes to see her upset.’

  The contessa’s heart started to beat more quickly. ‘Did she seem upset?’

  Vitale took a special pleasure in having everything run smoothly in the house. The contessa detected some uneasiness in him.

  ‘She did. It was when she asked me if Signorina Pindar had been here recently. I told her that she had paid a visit the day before yesterday when Signor Urbino was here.’

  ‘Thank you, Vitale. Would you please tell Pasquale that I’d like to go out in ten minutes?’

  The contessa continued down the staircase with what she hoped was the appearance of a calm she did not feel. She felt a sense of urgency and anxiety. She needed to get to the Palazzo Pindar as soon as she could.

  The wind insisted itself against the cabin of the motorboat as Pasquale manoeuvred it to the water steps beside the Palazzo Pindar. A few people hurried along the fondamenta. The attic windows of the building reflected the gray sky.

  Pasquale guided the contessa to the pavement and watched her as she went up to the door of the building.

  She was about to press the bell even though she knew the door was probably on the latch as usual. But even in the contessa’s present state of mind, her sense of propriety was strong.

  Before she pressed the bell, she noticed that the door had not been closed. Her immediate thought was that Mina had been in too much of a hurry to close it, for the contessa had no doubt that this was where the young woman had come after rushing from the house.

  The contessa pushed open the door, slipped into the vestibule, and closed the door behind her.

  The vestibule was chilly and silent.

  ‘Gaby?’ The contessa’s voice echoed in the large space.

  There was no sign of Gaby. The door to the museum was open and the lights were on. Perhaps she was taking one of her naps on the chaise longue.

  On the other side of the vestibule, the blue doors were closed on whatever was inside.

  The contessa ascended the staircase to the landing of the piano nobile. She didn’t pause outside the Pindar portego though she threw a quick glance inside the large room with its high-backed, square chairs, broken chandelier, and flaking plaster.

  She continued up the staircase to the story occupied by Apollonia, Eufrosina, and Alessandro. The door to their apartments was closed.

  A low cry, like a cat in distress, broke the silence. The cry became louder. As the contessa hurried up the staircase, which was narrower here than below, the cry had turned into a howl. The door to Olimpia’s atelier was open. She stepped inside.

  Winter light poured through windows on the large open space. Magazines, sheets of paper, a mannequin, tape measures, pins, ribbons, books, a lampshade, and fabric of various kinds, including a piece of Fortuny material in a floral design, littered the floor.

  Olimpia lay on her back on the floor, surrounded by scattered Euro notes. Her eyes were open wide, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling. Blood seeped from her chest, staining her dove-gray dress.

  Kneeling beside her was Mina. Her blue coat was still on. She turned a tormented face to the contessa. Tears ran down her cheeks. Her hair was disheveled.

  ‘I killed her! I killed her!’ She started the keening again.

  In her right hand was a pair of scissors, with long blades, blades that were covered in blood.

  The contessa moved forward a few feet, but stopped. The scissors remained in Mina’s hand. The contessa felt ashamed, now and later, of her hesitation, but she remained rooted to the spot.

  Footsteps sounded behind her.

  Gaby stood in the doorway, her clothing rumpled. A few seconds behind her came Ercule, carrying a thick book, and then Eufrosina, with her coat thrown over her dress and held clasped at the throat by a pale hand. None of them ventured any closer than the doorway, taking in the bloody scene as Mina continued to scream, the scissors still in her hand.

  A few moments later Apollonia, helped by Alessandro, joined them. As soon as Apollonia took in the scene, her lips started moving, but the contessa could not catch her words.

  She hoped it was a prayer. The dead woman needed it. And so, the contessa feared, did both Mina and herself.

  Part Two

  Moving in Mysterious Ways

  Five

  Olimpia Pindar’s funeral was held at San Giacomo dell’Orio, the church Apollonia Ballarin visited more in a month than Olimpia had probably visited in her whole life.

  There were only a few mourners. Not even the funeral of her sister had been able to induce Gaby to leave the Palazzo Pindar. Among the family members it was only Apollonia, white-faced and peaked-looking and still suffering from her bronchitis, who seemed at ease – and not just at ease but as if she were entertaining in her own home.

  Eufrosina, Alessandro, and Ercule, who sat with her, kept giving her side-glances as if they were following her cues.

  Nedda Bari, who presumably would have been a family member if Achille had not died before they could marry, sat with two pews between her and the others. The heavy-set woman wore her alpaca poncho with purple and lilac stripes over burgundy-colored slacks.

  Next to Bari was a thin blond woman in her thirties, whom Urbino had never seen before. Dark circles pocketed her eyes. She was wearing a worn cloth coat and a drab brown kerchief. When he asked the contessa whether she knew the young woman, she said that she didn’t.

  Also in attendance were Italo Bianchi, Savio Santo the family physician, two middle-aged women who had worked as
seamstresses for Olimpia, and Natalia, Urbino’s cook and housekeeper.

  From the time Olimpia’s body arrived in a plain wooden coffin, with four church workers as pallbearers, until it was brought out again and put into the motorboat that took it to the cemetery island, the whole service struck Urbino as rushed, although he could not say that the priest had omitted any of the customary prayers.

  The air of Olimpia being rushed to her burial remained with him during the time of her interment on San Michele. Even her rest would be far short of eternal, Urbino thought as he stood with the contessa beside the gaping grave. For she had been put into one of the burial fields whose occupants would be dug up after a mere twelve years, at which time her remains would be put in a common grave. It was not always lack of money that dictated this fate, but often the shortness of memory and the waning of grief. Olimpia had left no instructions for a different kind of burial, having been taken from life abruptly and at a relatively young age. Neither Gaby nor Ercule had made any effort to give their sister anything but the cheapest burial.

  Although the contessa often assumed the burden of perpetual graves for family, friends, and staff, who would have been consigned to oblivion without her generous intervention, she had not yet made any arrangements for Olimpia.

  Some delicacy and calculation influenced this decision because of the contessa’s close relationship with Mina, who had been arrested for Olimpia’s murder. If the contessa had rushed to assume all the burial experiences, it might seem as if she believed in Mina’s guilt and were trying to compensate for her personal maid’s brutal act.

  Making things worse was that in Mina’s statement to the police, she had insisted that she had killed Olimpia. But when Mina had been calmer and after she had consulted with the attorney the contessa had engaged for her, she had explained what she had meant. She had found Olimpia lying on the floor with the scissors in her chest. She had been alive then, grabbing at the scissors. Mina, in panic and confusion, had pulled them out. A few moments later Olimpia had died without uttering a single syllable but only a long sigh. Ercule, Gaby, Apollonia, Eufrosina, and Alessandro – all of whom said they had been in the house all day – claimed they had heard no arguments or any unusual sounds coming from Olimpia’s atelier until Mina’s screams had drawn their attention.