‘I know him. And I know him for a criminal. But he is involved in forgery, surely not theft.’
‘That, too? But you must be naive to think that such a man stops at only one crime.’
‘And Di Maio himself?’
Angelica spread her hands. ‘I have no idea. No doubt he is as crooked as my mother.’
If what this woman asserted were true – Nancy was still grappling to absorb this new and dreadful information – it threw a wholly different light on her discoveries. There were two separate crimes, it seemed, with Salvatore the link between them. No wonder she had been so confused by pieces of a jigsaw that never seemed to fit. Salvatore working for Dino, delivering forged paintings. Salvatore working for Marta – she could hardly bear to say it even in her mind – stealing religious icons.
It was too enormous, too terrible to believe. ‘When I met Marta,’ she said in a last-ditch effort to defend the woman to whom she’d felt so close, ‘she did not appear to have things to hide. She was looking forward to the future, to doing great things, she said, for Venice and for the Moretto family.’
‘Yes, she had plans,’ Angelica said indifferently. ‘Espiazione. Atonement, I think is the word in English. But it was too late.’
‘She left her entire estate to the convent,’ Nancy protested, taking a large gulp of her drink. Even if the will hadn’t stood, Marta’s desire to endow the convent was an act of altruism.
‘Too little, too late.’ Angelica was implacable.
‘Too late for what? I don’t understand.’ Nancy’s head had begun to feel too heavy for her shoulders and her mind was blurred.
‘My mother lived a wicked life and sins must be punished. There will be time enough in Purgatory for her to earn redemption. Purgatory is a place of suffering, Mrs Tremayne,’ she explained, almost kindly. ‘It is inhabited by the souls of sinners who must expiate their sins before they can achieve the purification necessary to enter the joy of heaven.’
This woman was her mother’s arbiter and final judge. She was even dressed as a judge, her black robe flowing to the floor, and lacking only a white wig. Nancy brought herself up sharply. Why was she allowing her mind to wander into whimsy? And then came sudden enlightenment, a burst of horror.
‘You killed her!’
‘I liberated her soul.’
‘You tipped her over the balcony.’ Nancy’s tongue seemed glued to her throat and she could hardly get the words out.
‘It was not too difficult. I am a strong woman and my visit to her box was unexpected. But very welcome. I had turned down the offer of a seat to Madama Butterfly, but then, there I was, joining my mother for the last act. She was most happy to see me, happy to drink a glass with me.’
‘You drugged her?’ Nancy asked dully.
‘There were tablets… ground down and mixed into strong cognac, pleasant enough. Marta always had a taste for cognac. By the time the final curtain call arrived, she needed support. Holding on to the balcony, holding on to me.’
Nancy slumped sideways in her seat. She felt dizzy and sick at heart. ‘It’s not Marta who is the monster,’ she said in a voice barely above a whisper, ‘it’s you. To kill your own mother.’
‘She ceased to be my mother when she took up arms against God.’ In the dim light of the oil lamps, Nancy saw in the woman’s eyes the heart of stone she carried. A fanatic’s heart.
‘And your brother? Did he take up arms, too?’ She knew the answer already.
‘Luca was weak. From childhood, he was weak, always doing exactly what Mamma told him. But he did not need much persuasion – it suited him to thieve. Who knows, it may have been Luca who persuaded her into evil in the first place. He was the one who negotiated a loan so badly it put the business at risk. The one who had a vampire wife. A grasping woman. Money, money, money, was all she ever wanted. And all Luca craved. My mother at least repented in the end – I will do her that justice.’
Angelica rose majestically from her chair. ‘She confessed it all, you know. She suffered such overwhelming guilt. But Luca was different. He was desperate to continue and they argued about it. I heard them, though they did not know. He was frantic to carry on. He needed money to keep the creature he’d married by his side.’
‘And you killed him, too?’ Whether it was the dreadfulness of the revelations, or this ghastly room, or the sweetness of the drink, Nancy didn’t know, but she had sunk into an unnatural calm.
‘Of course. He deserved no pity.’ Angelica gathered the empty glasses together and returned them to the side chest.
A strange curiosity took hold of Nancy, one she would ordinarily have suppressed. But tonight wasn’t ordinary and the world she had entered when she’d walked through the Moretto front door was sickeningly perverse. ‘He was a big man. How…?’
‘A big man,’ Angelica agreed cheerfully, ‘but still my brother and eager to kiss and make up. Why would he suspect a knife when I appeared out of the night and embraced him? But you are pale, Mrs Tremayne. Are you feeling unwell?’
‘I feel…’ Nancy tried to stand up but was too unsteady and forced to fall back into her chair.
‘You are a little confused, perhaps?’
‘That drink,’ she said slowly, enunciating every syllable. ‘What was in it?’
‘Don’t worry. Nothing too poisonous. Nuns are accomplished herbalists, you know. It will wear off in a few hours, but I fear that will be a little late.’
‘Late for what? What do you mean?’ Fear gripped Nancy and she started up from her chair again, clinging to the arm to keep her upright. Angelica was beside her in a flash.
‘I’m sorry, my dear. You chose the wrong night to visit. I told you, did I not, that you might regret your questions, and so it is. I cannot allow others to know the scandal that has been visited on my family. The Moretto name must remain pure. Our sins will die with us – with me and with you.’
Chapter Thirty-Three
Through the clouds befuddling her mind Nancy woke to her danger. She started towards the stairs, zigzagging a path to the salon doorway, but Angelica caught her easily.
‘You are unsteady, my dear. Allow me to help you.’ She took hold of Nancy’s wrists.
The woman’s grip was steel and, struggle as she might, Nancy could not free herself. Locked together, they stumbled to the door and for a moment, it seemed Angelica would release her hold. But it was not sufficient for Nancy to wriggle free, and in a second her captor had pulled a length of cord from the folds of her gown.
‘I am afraid this will be necessary. An enterprising young woman like yourself will be looking to escape and I need you to stay with me.’ She pulled Nancy’s arms forward and wrapped the cord around her wrists, pulling it so tight that the girl gave a sharp intake of breath as the rope bit.
‘Now you must move,’ her gaoler commanded, pushing her towards the door. ‘The drug is not so strong you cannot walk.’
‘You are quite mad.’ Nancy found her voice at last, though she slurred her words. ‘Untie me or you will face trouble. I have someone waiting for me in the street.’
‘I don’t think so, Nancy. I am permitted to use your first name? In the circumstances, I feel I may. There is no one outside and we will not be leaving by the front door. Now, move!’ She gave Nancy a sudden thrust that almost sent her to the ground. Somehow she managed to stay upright and walk out onto the landing.
‘Down the stairs.’ The voice behind her was inexorable.
‘My husband…’ Nancy started to say and then lost herself in a tangle of words that would not come.
‘Quickly. You have interfered enough and you threaten my plans. I cannot allow that.’
Nancy was drowning in a jumble of disjointed thoughts – Leo, Archie, the palazzo, what plans and why had she been drugged? – and her poor bruised mind could find no focus as she half walked, half tumbled down the stairs to the ground floor.
‘Keep going.’
There was another ungentle shove to her back forcing h
er down a further flight of stairs and into an echoing space, empty except for an ancient ladder and several battered buckets. The rancid smell of stale water filled Nancy’s nostrils. This was the basement Marta had spoken of, the one that flooded every year. But why had she been brought here? What was to happen to her?
Angelica was still behind her, still pushing her forward, now towards the double doors at one end of the cavern. Where would they lead? And then Nancy knew. The canal. Water. Drowning. She tensed her body, trying with all her strength to pull back.
‘What is the matter, Nancy?’ her gaoler taunted. ‘Do you not like water? I promise it will be a very short ride.’ So not drowning, but a boat. Imprisonment on a boat.
Angelica slid the double doors back. ‘So easy.’ She pulled her lips into what passed for a smile. ‘I had the portinaio oil the doors before he left.’
A small speedboat bobbed at anchor, tied to a rotting wooden stake, and she gestured to it. ‘The boat belonged to Luca. Years ago now. He thought he was so daring – a man about town – isn’t that the phrase?’ She gave a sigh. ‘He was always stupid, but the boat will prove useful. Sufficient for my purpose.’
And what’s that? Nancy’s confused mind tried to fathom, but she was being ordered to step on to the boat, and when she hesitated, was pushed from behind so that she stumbled onto the deck, tripped on a coil of rope and landed on her knees beneath the wheel.
‘It really is best that you do as I ask,’ her tormentor said. ‘You will find it far more comfortable. Now, we must go.’
She kneed Nancy’s prone figure aside and started the engine. A soft purr answered and the small craft began slowly to make its way along the canal that ran behind the calle dei Morti. With a struggle, Nancy forced herself upright and glanced frantically around, hoping to find help. It was hopeless. One or two rowing boats were moored at the rear of neighbouring houses, but there was no sign of their owners. Except for the quiet puttering of the boat driven at its lowest speed, the world was silent. And dark. Shadows floated fitfully across a fragment of moon and light from the street lamps did not reach the canal.
The waterway was widening slightly, Nancy noticed only vaguely. But then her senses were slammed into full alert. The boat’s throttle was suddenly opened and they shot forward – into the lagoon. Nancy gazed in horror at the woman at the helm, a mad deity dropped from the clouds, with hair a wild tangle and her robe a billowing sail.
It seemed Angelica had forgotten her prisoner for the moment, and when she spoke, it was softly to herself. ‘San Basilio is straight ahead. A pity that we will reach it so soon – the water is wonderful tonight.’
Unnoticed, Nancy edged to the rear of the boat and managed awkwardly to clamber onto the flat rim that ran around its perimeter, clinging to the flimsy structure that supported the canvas sunroof. They were running parallel to the Zattere now and somehow she hoped she might jump to freedom. Someone might be walking there in the darkness; someone might see her plight.
But what was she thinking? She could not swim and her hands were tied tightly together. She would have no chance even of threshing the water to keep herself afloat until rescue came. And all the time the boat was gathering speed. The lights of San Basilio came into view, their glow flashing gold across the waters of the lagoon.
For a moment Angelica seemed to be steering towards the harbour and Nancy’s spirits rose. Perhaps she was to be left there while this crazed woman carried out whatever plan she’d devised. But when they were some two hundred yards away, the boat swung back to run parallel to the dock. Two hundred yards from safety, but it might as well have been two hundred miles.
There was a figure running. Nancy could just make him out, a man waving his arms and shouting. Was he shouting at her? But what was he saying? The night air had helped to clear the fuzziness, but her head still felt the size of a pumpkin and she strained to make out the words. She half closed her eyes, peering into the gloom, trying to bring the figure into focus. It couldn’t be! She staggered to her feet, desperately trying to see better. It was! Archie. Archie powering himself along the dock. The most tremendous feeling of relief flooded her body and she could feel her paralysed cheeks try to stretch into a smile.
But why was she smiling? Archie was yards away and she was trapped on this speeding boat. She couldn’t reach him and he couldn’t reach her. Then the boat swung suddenly inland again at the same time as Angelica opened the throttle to its furthest reach. The boat’s engine roared, an old vessel struggling to meet unfamiliar demands. And finally Nancy saw what the woman intended.
Ahead of them was a yacht, the only one to be lit, and moored separately from the other boats. She recognised its shape – the Andiamo – and it was about to sail. Leo had said that Dino was leaving tonight. The pictures, she remembered hazily, the forgeries. He was off to sell his contraband. On her right, the dock was nearer than ever and she could see Archie’s figure clearly now. He was frantically trying to keep up but falling further and further behind.
‘Jump!’ His cry came to her on the breeze.
She looked ahead, over Angelica’s bent figure. The Andiamo was no longer at a distance but directly in their path. Surely, the woman would turn the wheel at the last moment, now she had thoroughly scared the yacht’s occupants. But the speedboat kept going and the stretch of sea between them diminished by the second. They were both to die, she realised – and they would take Dino and Salvatore with them.
‘Jump!’ Archie’s voice was a scream, but came to her now from far off.
Dying was certain, Nancy thought calmly, either by water or by fire, and drowning seemed preferable. She kicked off her shoes and clambered awkwardly back onto the rim of the boat, balancing uncertainly as she pulled herself upright. Then with a small prayer, her hands still bound tightly in front of her, she jumped vertically into the water.
In an instant the roar of the engine ceased. She was in a world of silence as the cold waters closed over her. Down, down, down, she plummeted, the breath knocked from her body by the force of her fall. Her eyes were closed, her limbs weightless and she floated dreamlike, without pain, without feeling.
But now there were hands on her waist, gripping, pulling, tugging. And she was brought, threshing and choking, to the surface. Archie had her in his arms, was turning her on her back, one hand beneath her chin to keep her mouth from the water. For a moment she heard the engine’s roar once more, but then quite suddenly it stopped. Had she drowned again? No, her head was still above water and Archie was slowly and powerfully sculling his way back to the side of the jetty. There was a second of eerie quiet, then an enormous explosion somewhere beyond them. The sky above was lit as though it were day. Running feet. A gabble of voices.
They were against the side of the dock and men were climbing down the iron ladder and scooping her from the water as though she were no more than a feather. They lay her gently on the concrete and someone bent down to her prone body, his ear to her mouth. Nancy felt her head turned to one side and a gush of water drain from her mouth and nose. A knife was cutting through her bonds and someone was chafing her wrists to get the blood flowing.
Archie’s face swam into vision. He was crouched low beside her, dripping pools of water. One of the men who had pulled them from the lagoon covered his shoulders with a blanket, another swaddled her in the same fashion. There were lights, blue lights circling, and shouting somewhere to her right.
She was beyond exhausted. ‘What’s happening?’ she whispered.
Archie crouched lower, speaking quietly into her ear. ‘Don’t worry. It’s the police. They’re reeling in Dino and Salvatore from their night swim.’
‘They’re alive?’
‘Very much so. They had the presence of mind to jump, too.’
‘But the Andiamo?’
‘Shame about that. A beautiful yacht.’
‘And Angelica Moretto?’
Archie shook his head.
Chapter Thirty-Four
‘Why
are the police here? Why are you here?’ Nancy tried to sit up, but crumpled almost immediately.
‘Take it easy.’ Archie stayed crouched beside her. ‘You’ve had a rough time.’
That was putting it mildly, she thought, but her bewilderment meant she couldn’t rest. ‘I have to know. I don’t understand—’ she began.
‘Then I’ll tell you. I followed you to calle dei Morti.’
‘You did what?’ she spluttered, trying again to sit up, and this time succeeding.
‘Are you about to tell me you wished I hadn’t?’ Archie sounded belligerent.
She shook her head, unable to answer. Instead, the tears began to fall. Hurriedly, she brushed them aside. She could not appear weak, not in front of Archie.
‘Here.’ He stood up and dug around in his pocket, then offered her a sodden handkerchief. ‘Any use to you?’
That forced a limp smile from her. ‘But what made you do it? The last I saw, you were on your way upstairs.’
Archie’s smile was wry. ‘I must have had a bad feeling about tonight. I thought I’d follow quietly, wait outside the Moretto place until you came out again, then leave you to make your way home. You’d never have known I was there.’
‘So you saw me go in?’
‘Yeah. And that was pretty odd. She opened the door to you. Angelica. No servants.’
‘She’d given them a holiday, she said.’
‘Or deliberately dismissed them?’
Nancy nodded slowly. ‘She was going to make an end of herself tonight – I think that’s what she’d planned – and then I blundered in there with my stupid questions. But if you were waiting outside the palazzo, how did you end up here?’
‘You were gone far too long. I knew something was wrong and walked around to the rear of the houses. You can’t walk along the canal but you can pretty much see its entire length from the back of the first house. There was a speedboat tied up at what I reckoned was the Moretto place and it looked as though it had been freshened up. Not a barnacle in sight. So what would Angelica Moretto want with a speedboat? While I stood watching, the doors opened and somebody was pushed out and onto the boat. I didn’t wait any longer.’
The Venice Atonement Page 27
