“What?” asked Agatha and Dash in unison.
“I couldn’t find the right room. I was certain I knew where it was, but I opened the door to a different room. So I returned to the dining room to tell Alfredo about my confusion.”
“At which point,” continued Modigliani, “I went to get his cigars myself. But as soon as I entered the study, I found the window wide open, and the crown was gone! Clearly, someone must have climbed the outside wall and come in through the window.”
Agatha rubbed her chin. “But it’s also true that each one of you, at some point after dinner, had the opportunity to go to the study alone.”
Lord Edwards let out another enraged outburst and Dash took the opportunity to move closer to Agatha. “Watch out, he has sharp cheekbones,” he whispered. “According to physiognomy, that means he’s a violent man!”
Agatha wasn’t impressed. “Could you please tell us whom you called, Lord Edwards?”
“That’s none of your business!” he snapped.
“Perhaps it would be easier if you calmed down,” said Gonzago with a charming smile.
Agatha saw Melissa Modigliani cast a glance at the young Spaniard. Agatha didn’t need to be a physiognomy expert to sense that there was a strange understanding between the two. She turned her attention back to Baron von Horvath. “You say you were unable to find the study,” she noted, “even though you’d been in it right before dinner.”
Increasingly nervous, the Hungarian noble replied that he’d gone down the dark hallway that he thought led to the study. But when he opened the door, he’d seen a suit of armor where he remembered there being a fireplace.
“My ancestors collected historical armor,” said Mr. Modigliani. “There are several examples in the house. The baron went to the wrong room.”
In the silence that followed, Dash drew Agatha and Chandler aside. “This is really a tricky one.” He sighed.
“I think we’ve seen the worst of it,” said the butler, nodding.
“So what do we do now?”
As usual, Agatha had an idea. “Mr. Modigliani, would you please show us your study?” she asked.
As soon as Modigliani opened the door to his study, the detectives saw the marble fireplace directly in front of them. To its left, a wooden bookcase stretched up to the ceiling, divided in two by a floor-length mirror. On the opposite side sat a mahogany desk cluttered with pens, inkwells, and monogrammed stationery. There was a window above it.
“That’s the window the thief must have used,” Dash said, rushing toward it.
Chandler moved to the right of the door to examine a suit of Byzantine armor.
“Where is the safe you mentioned to us earlier?” Agatha asked Mr. Modigliani.
He pulled some books from a low shelf, revealing a secret panel with a combination lock. Pressing a complicated series of numbers, he swung the door open, revealing a small hidden safe. “The crown was kept here,” he whispered, pointing to an empty space. “I was such a fool! I should have put it back safely before we all went to the dining room. But who could have imagined such a thing would happen?”
Agatha was beginning to think that Mr. Modigliani had made a few too many mistakes. “Was the window closed?” she asked.
He nodded in despair. “I was the last one to leave the room, and I’m sure none of my guests opened the window while I was unlocking the safe.”
“What other clues are there?” Agatha pressed. “Did you see any signs that someone had climbed in?”
“Nothing,” said Mr. Modigliani softly. “As soon as I noticed the theft, I closed the shutters and called the insurance company. I didn’t touch anything.”
“Good,” said Chandler, who had been listening to the whole conversation with rapt attention. “Now, could you please leave us alone for a few minutes?”
Mr. Modigliani left the study without another word. The three investigators remained, listening to his footsteps fade as he walked down the hall. Then they began to speak.
“Did you find anything?” Agatha began.
“Judging by the dust, the armor hasn’t been moved in a long time,” said Chandler. “It’s likely that Baron von Horvath really did try the wrong room.”
Dash looked out the window. “The side of the building is covered in vines, roof to ground.”
“So if the thief were agile, he could easily have climbed up two floors or come down from the roof, and disappeared with the loot,” observed Agatha, stroking the tip of her nose. “Even the leaves confirm this theory . . .”
“What leaves?” asked Dash, astounded.
Agatha pointed at Watson, who was playing under the desk. She knelt down and retrieved two dark green leaves. “Don’t you know ivy is poisonous, darling?” she asked the cat.
Watson gave her an offended look and went to find something else to amuse himself.
“Maybe the wind blew these inside,” said Agatha, showing the others the leaves. “But we still haven’t addressed the fundamental problem.”
“What’s that?” asked Dash, scratching his head.
Chandler responded first. “If the thief came in through the window, he must have had help from somebody inside the house,” he stated.
“Why? Couldn’t he have just picked the lock on the window and let himself in?”
Agatha gave him a smile. “Ask yourself: How would he know that the crown had been left on the desk unattended?” she asked.
“Of course!” Dash exclaimed. “That’s true!”
“In fact, the open window could very well be a false clue to throw us off the track,” Agatha mused aloud.
“So what’s our next step?”
“Simple,” she replied, tapping her nose with her finger. “In either case, someone inside the house must be involved, so we should follow our suspects’ next steps. The question is, who do we trail first? I wish we could follow them all at once!”
Dash brightened. “Agatha, you’re a genius—we can use the biometric scanner!”
The others stared in silence as Dash explained that his EyeNet had been fitted with a new app. The biometric scanner recorded a person’s body imprint: blood circulation, heartbeat, nervous system, and other vital signs. Once the data was entered, thanks to GPS satellites, it was possible to track a person’s movements online.
“Perfect!” Agatha rejoiced. “We’ll scan all our suspects, then start shadowing their every move. We just have to do it without getting caught!”
They rejoined Modigliani and his guests in the parlor. While Chandler told them that the evidence suggested that another person had entered the study through the window, scattering ivy leaves in the process, Dash took advantage of Chandler’s huge frame to record the biometric values of everyone in the room on his EyeNet without being seen.
When he signaled that he had finished, Agatha collected the guests’ cell-phone numbers, assuring them they’d be informed of the progress of their investigation.
The three gentlemen left Palazzo Modigliani quickly, each in a hurry to return to his usual occupation.
“How do you plan to proceed, Agent DM14?” asked Melissa. “Do you have clues to follow?”
Caught off guard, Chandler started to twist his cravat.
“He can’t tell you anything yet,” Agatha jumped in, rescuing him with a clever smile. “But we can assure you the thief will be caught very soon.”
“Excellent!” said Mr. Modigliani.
Even Nunzio stopped dusting for a moment to observe them with approval.
Agatha and the others took their leave and returned to Marco, who was humming to himself in his gondola.
“Nice long visit,” he said with a smile. “Are you ready for your tour?”
Dash was watching three blinking lights as they moved across the EyeNet’s screen. Von Horvath was definitely the closest. Agatha looked at the
Hungarian baron’s position and made a decision. “Let’s head toward the Blacksmith Canal,” she suggested.
“Aha, then you want to visit the workshops!” cried Marco, enthusiastically grabbing the long oar. “Come on, off we go!”
They boarded the gondola and the young Venetian steered them through a maze of canals, passing under footbridges and gliding past beautiful buildings. There were boats everywhere, some delivering vegetables and fresh fish to the markets.
Dash kept his eyes glued to the EyeNet throughout the whole trip, and Marco continued to sing like a nightingale. After about twenty minutes, they tied up at a dock and immediately started to search for their target. It seemed the baron had gone into an antique store.
Dash peered through the window and saw the stocky von Horvath handing a wrapped package to the proprietor, a toothless old man with a grim frown.
“Aha!” cried the young detective, snapping his fingers. “The baron’s chubby cheeks should have made me suspect him from the very beginning!”
“Why is that?” asked Agatha.
“According to criminal physiognomy, they’re a sign of moral weakness. But . . . watch out! He’s coming back out—hide!”
Von Horvath left the store, looking over his shoulder suspiciously. Agatha scooped up Watson and slipped into a souvenir shop, while Dash ducked behind a large planter. Chandler opened a newspaper, hiding his face. Only Marco remained in full view.
“Okay, kids, what just happened?” Marco asked as soon as the Hungarian had turned the corner. “What’s with all the subterfuge?”
With no other option, Agatha confessed the real reason for their trip to Venice. “And if I can’t retrieve the doge’s crown, I’ll flunk the mission,” Dash added bitterly.
Marco was delighted. “You should have told me sooner,” he declared. “I love a good spy story!”
The only thing left to do was come up with a plan.
“While Marco keeps watch and Chandler distracts the antiques dealer, Dash and I will try to get a look at the package the baron left,” Agatha said.
“As you wish, Miss,” agreed Chandler.
They entered the store as if they were typical English tourists. Dash leafed through Agatha’s guidebook as Chandler began speaking in clumsy Italian to the old shopkeeper, who stood rubbing his bony hands together.
“My mother might like a Murano glass ornament,” said Agatha in a perky voice to Chandler. Her quick eye had noticed a shelf of them at the far end of the shop.
“Yes,” Chandler replied, turning to the shopkeeper. “Could you help me choose one?”
“Of course, of course, excellent choice,” said the antiques dealer. “Right this way, sir.”
As Chandler and the shopkeeper walked away, Dash snatched von Horvath’s package from behind the counter. Unwrapping it quickly, he found an old wooden box. Could the crown be inside it?
“Go on, open it!” Agatha encouraged him in a sidelong whisper.
Dash began wrestling with the rusty clasp. Suddenly, the box slipped out his fingers and landed on a case of glass beads.
The noise alerted the shopkeeper. “What are you doing?” he shouted. “Get out of my shop, you clumsy brats!”
The three Londoners left in a hurry. But before they escaped completely, Agatha turned back to see the shopkeeper pick up the contents of the upturned box: an antique Arabian dagger with a curved blade.
They had caused all that commotion for nothing!
“Von Horvath was a big waste of time,” said Dash, disappointed, as they trooped back to Marco’s gondola.
“He sure was,” agreed Agatha. “But don’t give up. We have two more suspects to tail.”
At that exact moment, the EyeNet’s screen started blinking. Dash pushed a series of buttons and Lord Edwards’s movements appeared.
“He’s not far away!” Dash exclaimed. “Look at this.”
Within minutes, Marco had skillfully directed them to Campo San Zaccaria, which was swarming with people in swirling capes and feathered headdresses. It was a beautiful sight, but there was no time for them to admire the masked revelers and their festivities.
“Over there! No, there!” Dash’s voice echoed through the twisting alleys.
After a few laps around the square, they finally located Lord Edwards. He stood under a large stone archway talking to a man in a long cloak and pearly white mask.
“The masked man has a package tucked under his arm; can you see it?” Agatha sounded excited. “He could be our thief! Let’s get closer.”
The crowd was so dense it was hard to maneuver. Using his massive frame, Chandler led the group through the throng. As they approached the stone archway, the mysterious man lowered his mask.
“Hey, I know him!” exclaimed Marco. “That’s Calindo Freddi. He’s a slippery one!”
Right at that moment, Calindo turned toward them. He caught sight of Chandler’s imposing form heading toward him, whispered something to the Englishman, and ducked quickly into the crowd, doing his best to vanish.
“Follow that masked man!” shouted Dash. “The crown is inside that package, I’m sure of it!”
Chandler elbowed his way through the crowd, with Dash and Agatha hot on his heels. But Calindo had a good head start. He jumped into a small boat on the canal, threw off the mooring rope, and began paddling away furiously.
“This way!” cried Marco. He grabbed hold of a fellow gondolier and, after a brief exchange in Italian, turned back to the group. “My friend Nicola is lending us his gondola,” he told them. “Get on board!”
In a matter of moments, they were in hot pursuit.
“Can’t we go any faster?” Dash despaired. “This must be the world’s slowest chase!”
“I’m afraid not. Gondolas are delicate, so if I’m not careful, we could damage Nicola’s boat.”
Calindo’s small boat was faster, but less stable, which meant he had to slow down to avoid getting swamped by a passing vaporetto. But somehow the distance between the two boats never seemed to change.
“Come on, Marco. Can’t we get closer?” yelled Agatha.
Every so often, Calindo turned to look over his shoulder. He had freed himself from the mask and cloak in order to move more easily.
The chase continued for several more minutes. Then the canal split into two smaller streams and Calindo, after a moment of indecision, took the left.
Marco, on the other hand, steered to the right.
“Hey, what are you doing?” yelled Dash.
“Don’t worry,” Marco replied. “Calindo has trapped himself!”
“Of course,” said Agatha. “This canal is a shortcut. We’ll be able to cut him off up ahead!”
Marco stared at her. “How did you know that?” he asked.
“I memorized the canal map,” she replied. “I thought it might come in handy!”
“Your memory drawers are overflowing as ever, Miss Agatha,” said Chandler, smiling.
There were no other boats on the small canal Marco had taken. He slowed his gondola, telling the others that they had arrived at the point where their canal intersected with Calindo Freddi’s.
They jumped onto a narrow path running alongside the waterway and hid behind a corner until Agatha spied Calindo’s boat moving in their direction. They were all flattened against the wall when the sound of lapping water announced the arrival of their prey. Chandler reached out a long arm and grabbed Calindo by the collar of his jacket.
“Rats!” cursed Calindo. “Let go of me!”
It was a funny sight, the man squirming and kicking his legs in midair as the mighty butler hoisted him up to the path.
“What’s the idea? Put me down!”
Chandler shrugged. “All right.” He let go and the man fell on his backside in the middle of the group.
“Confess everythin
g!” said Dash, pointing his finger at him.
“Who are you?” replied Calindo. “Leave me alone, or I’ll call the police!”
“Go right ahead,” said Agatha. “I’m sure they’d like to hear a few things from you.”
“Hear what? I haven’t done a thing!” Calindo protested loudly, hoping to catch the attention of passersby.
“That’s what every criminal says.” Dash folded his arms.
“I’m not a criminal. Let me go!”
Calindo tried to stand up, but Chandler pinned him in place with a giant hand on his shoulder.
Agatha wanted to find out why he had been meeting with Lord Edwards. She began to bombard him with questions, but he just stared at the ground.
“It would be in your best interest to start talking,” Marco warned. “Everybody in Venice knows you’ve always got your hands in somebody’s pockets.”
Calindo Freddi refused to respond.
Agatha tried persuading him with a clever deception. “Lord Edwards is in big trouble with the law,” she cautioned him. “If you give us information, I promise we’ll let you go.”
Calindo looked at each of them, then gave up with a sigh.
“That Edwards guy, he’s got a bit of a gambling problem,” he said. “He’ll put good money on anything—horse races, football games, race cars. I carry money from respectable gents like him so they don’t have to get their hands dirty.”
Dash narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, I can just imagine the sort of people you’re dealing with . . .”
“Where were you last night?” Agatha interrupted, careful not to mince words. “And don’t try to lie to me!”
Calindo threw his arms wide, doing his best to look innocent. “At the Venice Casino,” he admitted. “I had to play roulette on behalf of some of my . . . um . . . clients. There were dozens of witnesses; you can ask anyone who was there.”
“We will,” Agatha promised. “And who were these, um . . . clients?”
“Well, one was Lord Fitz. He called me at ten o’clock to ask me to bet for him.”
The Crown of Venice Page 3
