‘There might be a Fortuny gown or something else by him.’
‘Olimpia would have scooped up anything like that. But you never know. I have no idea of everything there is in there. It would take forever to do an inventory.’
Ercule picked up the mandolin and started to strum it. He soon was playing a sweet, melancholy melody that provided an accompaniment to Urbino’s far less sweet and much more melancholy – even dark – thoughts.
After leaving Ercule, Urbino ascended the staircase past the closed door to Apollonia’s apartment. Muffled voices came from within.
Stepping quietly, he continued up to the attic story. He went to the closed door of Olimpia’s atelier. He kept himself still and listened. He could hear nothing coming from within. He turned the metal handle. The door opened easily and, fortunately, without a sound. It struck him how inconsistent Gaby and Ercule were. They kept their front door unlocked during the daytime, and Olimpia’s atelier was not locked, yet the two blue rooms were.
He stepped into the room, keeping the door open behind him.
He found himself in a vast space that extended the length of the palazzo, without any partitions or smaller rooms on either side. Eight round-arched windows, smaller than the windows on the two lower floors, let in the winter light on both long walls.
Like attics almost everywhere else in the world, including the one at the Palazzo Uccello, this one had once been the building’s storehouse, crammed with objects the family could not part with. In setting up her atelier, Olimpia must have cleared the space and persuaded Gaby to let her sell some of the objects. Other objects had probably been distributed throughout the house. Much of whatever clothing there had been in the attic must have found its way to the blue rooms.
He stared down at the spot, where Mina had knelt over Olimpia’s body, with the scissors in her hand. None of the chaos the contessa had described was evident, and the floor had been swept clean. What had become of the money scattered on the floor? Did the police have possession of it? Or had Gaby or Ercule taken it?
He walked around the room, eerily accompanied by the faint music of Ercule’s mandolin.
Tables of various sizes were placed throughout the room. Their surfaces held measuring-tape, cutting scissors, button boxes, reels of sewing silk, pincushions, clothes brushes, steam irons, remnants, and bolts of material. A black mantilla was draped over the back of a chair. Behind the chair was a hat stand with cloche hats, old-fashioned bonnets, and a pink Pashmina shawl. Two modern sewing machines and a much older model were placed at workstations.
Dresses hung on movable clothes racks and were arranged on dressmaker’s dummies. Most of the dresses were contemporary styles, although many of them were made from what was clearly old silk, satin, and velvet. The dresses were not hung neatly. Two of them had slipped partly off their hangers, and several of them had been put on the rack backwards, with the hooks of the hangers facing the opposite direction of all the others. The pocket of one dress was pulled inside out.
One particular dress drew his attention. It was in the Rococo style and made from pale green damask that had been embellished with embroidery. Foams of lace adorned the sleeves. In the back, a pleated piece of material, also in pale green damask, dropped from the shoulders and made an impressive train. Urbino examined it more closely and determined, as best he could, that the stitching had been done recently and by one of the modern machines. The dress was not an antique, but a recreation of an old style. Urbino assumed he was looking at the costume the director of the theatrical company had mentioned to the contessa – the one that Olimpia had been close to completing for the Goldoni production. It belonged to the company now, as the director had told the contessa.
As he approached a table near the triple mirror, the doorbell sounded faintly from below. It seemed that Eugene was not going to be Gaby’s only visitor this morning.
On the table lay a man’s knee-length coat in an eighteenth-century style. It was plain black broadcloth and was cut closely, with narrow shoulders and sleeves. It was faded and worn in various spots. Urbino could tell that it dated back to the eighteenth century and was not a copy like the green damask dress. Olimpia had probably taken it from one of the blue rooms or had found it in the attic when she had taken over the space. The collar had been carefully detached and was lying beside the coat. Perhaps Olimpia had been in the process of altering the style or had been planning to use the collar on another garment.
In a corner was an elegant toilet escritoire, with gilt-brass mounts and marquetry of various woods. He pulled opened the cover and found the inside empty except for several wooden pencils, and a manual pencil sharpener. He was about to close the cover when his eye noticed a small piece of paper in the back. He retrieved it. It was crumpled. He straightened it out. It was a cash register receipt for several spools of sewing thread from a sewing shop in the Castello. A number code, followed by the color of the thread, was listed on the receipt. Each spool was a different shade of blue. The receipt was dated a week before Olimpia’s murder. He put it back in the escritoire and closed the cover.
Taking one last look around the scene of the murder, Urbino was about to leave when he heard footsteps hurrying up the staircase. He wished he had not left the door open. He prepared himself for discovery, when the footsteps stopped on Apollonia’s landing. He heard a door open, low voices, then silence.
‘Gun, gene, gee, gun – but I already said gun,’ came Gaby’s voice from the second room of the museum as Urbino approached it. ‘That’s all I can come up with. Your name has all those “e’“s and only two consonants. “E” and “e” and “e,”’ she emphasized. ‘How do you spell your last name?’
‘H – e-n-n-e-p-i-n.’
‘My! Three “n’“s. I will see what I can do. Hen, that’s obvious, pen, pin, pine – oh, Urbino!’ she said when he stopped in the doorway. ‘I hope you found Ercule.’
‘Yes, we had a little chat – and some raki.’
‘That nasty stuff, and at this hour! Eugene and I have been keeping sober but that doesn’t mean we haven’t been enjoying ourselves, does it, Eugene?’
‘Not at all, Miss Gaby. She’s a real walkin’ encyclopedia, Urbino. I was tryin’ to find her out about the littlest thing in this place, but she always had plenty to say.’
‘It’s my life, Eugene. I love old things with histories, even things that did not belong to my family. But I’m sure you could show me around a sugar cane museum and never stop talking. Hah, hah!’
‘Maybe I could if I had one. You’ve put an idea in this head of mine. I tell you what, though, Miss Gaby. You’d be a handy person to have around town. It would get Urbino off the hook and give him more time for his writin’ and whatever else he gets himself up to. You can pick the place and the time. And then we’ll go somewhere for a tasty meal. How’s that?’
Gaby’s brightness had been gradually fading as Eugene spoke.
‘I must stick close to the house, Eugene. There’s no one else who can show visitors around.’
‘Every place of business, Miss Gaby, takes a day off. And didn’t the good Lord do the same when he was creatin’ everything? You’re goin’ to wear your poor little self out. But no one else has come to the museum while you’ve been showin’ me around. It’s a quiet time of year, not like summer. This city was heavin’ like an ant hill when I was here then. But I’ve never been one to press the ladies. You think about it, Miss Gaby, and you get back to me. I’m staying at the Danieli for another two weeks.’
‘I’ll think about it.’ Gaby gave Urbino a nervous glance.
‘Disappointed there’s nothing for sale, Miss Gaby. I’ve seen some things I’d like to bring back home with me.’
‘Which ones?’ Urbino asked out of genuine curiosity.
‘Those small daggers with the triangular blades. I’d like one or two. What did you call ’em, Miss Gaby?’
“‘Ox-tongues.’”
‘If you say so. And I’d buy one of those me
dals they used as money.’
‘Oselle.’
‘And something big.’ His bright eye moved around the room. ‘The globe of the world over there. Better than the one I have, even if it doesn’t have all the countries.’
‘It’s kind of you to appreciate my things, Eugene, but nothing is for sale. Not one piece. I could not part with anything. Everything must stay just where it is, exactly as it is.’
‘You’re very organized, Miss Gaby. You can have a job at Hennepin Sugar any time you want. Just say the word to Urbino and we’ll have you on the next plane to Louisiana.’ Eugene clapped his arm around Urbino’s shoulders. ‘So tell me, Urbino. What do you think of yourself?’
‘Excuse me?’
A broad smile wreathed Eugene’s face. ‘What do you think of yourself? Your statue.’ He went over to Alessandro’s little theater. ‘May I?’ he asked Gaby. She nodded. He reached for one of two figures, which, unlike the others, were not on the stage but were facing it.
‘Lookie here, Urbino. So tell me, what do you think? Miss Gaby says you haven’t seen this one yet – or the other one.’
Urbino took the figure. He recognized himself from the figure’s sharp features, short brown hair, and black cape. It was disconcerting to see himself miniaturized and carved in wood. He was about to hand the figure back to Eugene when something else about it caught his attention. Wasn’t the length of the nose exaggerated? Urbino did not exactly have a button nose, but he did not have the protrusive one that Alessandro had bestowed on him.
‘A good likeness.’ Urbino gave the figure back to Eugene. Before Eugene might comment on the figure’s slightly elongated nose, Urbino asked what the other new figure was.
Eugene replaced the Urbino figure and picked up the other one.’ Countess Barbara.’ He handed it to Urbino.
It was indeed the contessa. Wearing Alessandro’s rendition of her iridescent mauve and purple Fortuny, she sat in a throne-like chair. A gold tiara crowned her head. The contessa was elegant even in wood.
Urbino returned the figure to the stage next to the one of himself.
‘He’s a talented fellow, your nephew,’ Eugene said.
‘My cousin.’ Gaby turned to Urbino. ‘Alessandro finished his own statue.’
Urbino now noticed that it had joined the row of other figures. He did not examine it closely. But it seemed to be a simple likeness. In Alessandro’s hand was a small knife.
A low, shuffling sound came from the first room of the museum. A few moments later Ercule appeared in the doorway, still in full regalia.
‘My, my,’ Eugene exclaimed. ‘I thought Mardi Gras was weeks away. That’s a mighty fine costume, sir. What kind of mask goes with it?’
‘It’s not a costume, Eugene,’ Gaby said. ‘It’s my brother’s stay-at-home clothes.’ She made an introduction. ‘His name means Hercules.’ As Eugene continued to stare at Ercule, she shifted the figures of Urbino and the contessa a fraction of an inch.
‘Well, Hercules, your clothes look pretty comfortable, and that contraption of a hat must keep the chill off your head. I knew an old lady who used to strut around in public dressed in her great-granddaddy’s Confederate uniform, saber, boots, and all. Never did any harm and no business of mine.’
‘I’m pleased to meet you,’ Ercule said. ‘I hope you’re enjoying our museum.’
‘Certainly am, thanks to this tiger of a sister of yours. Sorry, Miss Gaby, not a tiger. What’s your coat again?’
‘Ocelot.’
‘Bet you could make a passel of words from that one.’
But Gaby did not make the effort.
Ercule gave Urbino a little smile. Urbino sensed that he was about to mention the blue rooms to Gaby, but before he might have done so a bald-headed man dressed in a dark blue suit and a maroon bow tie appeared in the doorway. He had a somber expression on his thin, dark face. It was Dr Savio Santo, Apollonia’s physician and the physician of all the other Pindar family members.
‘It’s Apollonia,’ he said quietly, looking at Ercule and Gaby. ‘She’s going. You should come upstairs. Quickly.’
This was followed by a muted wail and the word ‘Mamma!’ Urbino recognized Alessandro’s voice.
Ercule and Gaby, followed by Dr Santo, hurried from the museum.
Part Three
The Blue Rooms
Ten
The contessa was chilled to the bone. The short distance from the motorboat to the entrance gate of the Fortuny textile factory made her feel as if she had been dipped in ice. The bora, snapping the flags of Italy, Venice, and Spain above the entrance, blew against her and Urbino as they waited for the guard to open the gate. The rains had stopped and the flooding had receded, but now, the day after Apollonia’s death, the city was enduring this different assault.
They hurried into the small showroom, where the heat came as a welcome relief. The woman at the desk gave them a smile and greeted the contessa by name. A young woman was turning the display rack while her companion examined swatches. Bolts of patterned silk and velvet were arranged on a long wooden table, and Fortuny umbrellas and lamps accented the room. The factory made Fortuny’s fabric on his original machines and according to a process that remained a well-kept secret.
The contessa and Urbino seated themselves in chairs covered in rose Fortuny fabric near the desk. The contessa knew that what she was doing this morning – choosing a fabric for the damaged armchair in the morning room – was trivial considering Mina’s imprisonment, Olimpia’s murder, and Apollonia’s death.
However, she had convinced herself, through some kind of perverse logic, that she was doing something for Mina by replacing the fabric Zouzou had ripped. Mina had been much more upset by it than the contessa had been. It made her feel good to think that the armchair would be repaired by the time Mina was released.
When Mina was released … The sooner the contessa reupholstered the sofa, the sooner Mina would be out.
Another reason she had come to the Fortuny factory was that she felt closer to Mina in another way. A few hundred feet behind the showroom on the other side of a canal was the Women’s Penitentiary. The contessa could have walked to it in fewer than ten minutes. She would have gladly done so, even in this horrendous cold, if the door would be open for her to visit the girl. But that still had not materialized – not yet. She was not giving up hope. Thank God, she was able to get messages back and forth to Mina, who, she suspected, in a kind of reversing of roles, was trying to soothe her by telling her that she was doing fine and that she was being treated very well.
With Urbino’s help, the contessa looked through the books of swatches. Usually she would have taken a long time and enjoyed it, but this morning she made a decision after only five minutes.
‘I’ll take this one,’ she said to Urbino. ‘What do you think?’
It was the Caravaggio pattern in plum, peacock blue, and beige.
‘Nice,’ Urbino said. ‘It’s good to make a change from what you have now.’
The contessa gave the measurements to the woman and paid for the fabric. She joined Urbino, who was examining two photographs on the wall near the entrance. One was a small gold-framed, sepia-toned photograph of Fortuny. The other was a black-and-white one of his widow Henriette. The attractive, intelligent-looking woman wore a simple black dress, a small brooch, and triple strands of pearls high on her throat. She was surrounded by a sea of Fortuny fabric.
‘Mina says I resemble her,’ the contessa said, hoping Urbino did not think she was being vain. She wanted to evoke a pleasant memory of Mina and bring her into their presence for a few moments. ‘Silly girl!’ The contessa’s eyes watered. ‘She saw the photograph when we came to get an umbrella.’
‘Mina is observant. There’s always a family resemblance among the elegant. And Henriette was Mariano’s muse – and you, dear Barbara, are mine.’
The contessa gave his hand a gentle, appreciative squeeze. ‘And your Nora. I’m not going to let you forget that.’
They lingered over martinis, which Urbino had insisted on since it was Nick and Nora’s preferred drink. And then they made their slow way through their risottos and salads as they talked, occasionally looking out at the lagoon barges, vaporetti, and other boats in the gray choppy waters of the canal.
On the way to the Giudecca with Urbino, the contessa had not been able to let the topic of Apollonia’s death rest, and she returned to it now.
‘Poor Apollonia.’ The contessa stopped herself from adding, ‘She was young to go,’ realizing the illogic of the comment. It had been something her mother used to say in her advanced years when a friend her age or older died. It had struck the contessa as amusing back then, but not any more.
‘A natural death, it seems,’ Urbino said.
‘What are you implying? That her death wasn’t natural?’
‘I always try to keep an open mind as well as an open heart. Don’t you think we should be suspicious of another death in the house coming so quickly after Olimpia’s murder? Even if Apollonia had been ill; even considering her age?’
This had occurred to her, too, but she had done her best to push it aside. If Apollonia had not been allowed to live all her full natural years – no matter how few more there might have been – it put much of what they had been thinking about in a completely different light.
‘And if she didn’t die a natural death,’ Urbino was saying, ‘how could it be separated from Olimpia’s murder? Two unrelated murders under the same roof? No.’ He shook his head. ‘And with her gone, however she went, a door has been closed on whatever she might have known that could have helped us. But she was a difficult woman. Who’s to say that she would have been forthcoming with any information?’
‘You’re right. Apollonia hadn’t shown any interest in talking about the past ever since her conversion.’ The contessa took a sip of wine. She was limiting herself to only one glass today after her overindulgence last week. ‘It seems that Eufrosina and Alessandro are trying to make up for the haste Olimpia was buried in. I was surprised when he told me the funeral wouldn’t be for five days. Seems a long time.’
The Veils of Venice Page 16