The Mammoth Book of Historical Crime Fiction

by Ashley, Mike;

  “You should not be up here. It is not safe.”

  He strode over to her and, whilst still reprimanding her, wiped the smear from her face with his thumb. She laughed.

  “Nonsense. If the floor can stand the weight of Matteo Mocco, it can bear three of me.”

  “Yes, but there are not three of you, Katie Valier. There is only one, and I am sure your mother holds you to be precious.”

  The girl pulled a face.

  “My mother and father are dead. Of the plague.”

  Zuliani apologized for his blunder.

  “I am sorry for that. Then it is that blessed grandmother of yours of whom you should think.” Hearing a creak, he cast a fearful glance up at the ceiling. “Let’s get downstairs before this all falls in on us.”

  Despite his best efforts, Katie still managed to get a good look at Tiepolo’s body before Zuliani could grab her arm and steer her down the ruined staircase. They stayed close to the wall as the wooden handrail had almost gone, but, at the bottom, the newel post and metal strap still remained. Katie pointed at the lizard shape that adorned the metal, and smiled.

  “Look. It must be a salamander to have survived the fire. They do say that the creature can put out fires with milk from its skin.”

  Zuliani gave her a sceptical look.

  “Then this one failed miserably, didn’t it. Besides, it’s all a legend, and … oh, never mind.”

  Zuliani was thinking again of all he had lost in the fire, and he couldn’t bear to contemplate it. Better to forget than get morbid. Besides, he needed to find somewhere to stay. As of now, he was homeless. The same thought must have occurred to Katie.

  “I think it is time you met my grandmother. We have a spare room, and you could stay until you sort out your own house.”

  Zuliani gratefully accepted the offer. To tell the truth, he didn’t know what else he would have done. His last few years had been spent more or less as a hermit, inhabiting the upper reaches of his now ruined house. His few forays into trading had been with partners who were young enough to be his grandsons, and with whom he had nothing in common, other than the love of a good deal. Most of his old friends and adversaries were long dead. Loneliness was the penalty of longevity. Until Katie had appeared, he had not thought much of his situation. Now he longed for company again, and her company in particular. The idea of staying in the same house as her appealed greatly. But he was not so sure of the grandmother. Would she be some whiskery old lady who harboured suspicions about his motives in relation to Katie? As they made their way on to the Rialto Bridge, Zuliani clutched the girl’s arm.

  “Will your grandmother approve of this? It is quite something to foist an old, cantankerous bastard like me on a frail old lady, at a moment’s notice.”

  Katie’s tinkling laughter rang out, dispelling any doubts Zuliani had.

  “I shall tell her you said that … frail old lady indeed.” She released her arm from his grip, and sped off, lifting her skirts up to help her to run. “Come on, last one over the bridge must pay a forfeit.”

  He groaned.

  “I am too old for this. Wait for me.”

  When she faltered, he laughed and sped past her. Elbowing the crowds of people that thronged the bridge out of the way, he reaching the other side of the Grand Canal first. He cheered his victory, but his heart was pounding in his chest. He leaned forwards with his hands on his knees, gasping for breath.

  “Are you alright?”

  Zuliani waved away Katie’s anxious enquiry with his hand.

  “Let me get my breath, and I will tell you. In the meantime, lead me to your house.”

  He was shocked to be taken to a palazzo he had once been very familiar with in another life. He stood before the heavy oaken doors and frowned. He turned to Katie, who had a broad grin on her face. He could barely speak.

  “What is this? This is the old Dolfin palace. But there’s none of the family left.”

  The girl made a moue with her lips.

  “Except for me. And grandmother. Come and meet her.”

  It was a strange feeling for Zuliani to cross the portal he had never been able to as a young man. He had been the lover of Caterina Dolfin, but her father had disapproved of the daredevil trader whose family was not recorded in the Libro d’Oro – the Golden Book of ancient families of Venice. Now, he half-expected the old man to rise from his grave and peremptorily demand he leave. Instead, another voice from the past did quite the opposite.

  “Welcome to Ca’ Dolfin, Nick. It’s about time you saw inside those doors.”

  Suddenly, his breath was taken away in a far more exhilarating way than when he had raced Katie. He was so disconcerted he managed only one syllable.

  “Cat?”

  Down the other end of the long-pillared hallway stood a woman, slender and erect. She was in semi-darkness, and for a moment Zuliani thought he had been thrown back in time. It was the Caterina Dolfin of forty years ago – slim, but curvy in all the right places, her exquisitely carved features framed by thick blonde hair that tumbled over her shoulders. He moved towards this vision, hardly believing it as real, and she stepped into the light of three candles set atop a tall stand. Then he saw that his vision was real after all. Of course it was his lover Cat, and of course she was older, just as he was. Closer to her, he saw the wrinkles round the corners of her eyes, but they were the same clear, blue eyes, full of mischief. The blonde hair had strands of silver, but was just as thick and alive. She smiled at Zuliani, and her face lit up just as it used to when he stroked her naked body.

  “What do you think of Katie’s old grandma, then?”

  Zuliani pulled a face.

  “You’ve aged somewhat better than I have, Caterina.”

  She reached out a hand, and stroked his weather-beaten, wrinkled face.

  “Ah yes, but I like older men.”

  Before either of them could say another word, Katie broke into their colloquy.

  “Granny Cat, can Nick stay here? Only, his house has burned down.”

  A look of alarm crossed Caterina’s aquiline features.

  “Burnt down? My God, how did that happen?” She squeezed Zuliani’s arm. “You weren’t inside, were you?”

  Zuliani waved her concerns aside, still unable to tear his gaze from her face.

  “No, no. I am fine.”

  Katie couldn’t contain herself, though, and had to take over the conversation.

  “But Francesco Tiepolo isn’t. He burned to a crisp. I saw him.”

  Cat turned a stern gaze on Zuliani.

  “When I asked my granddaughter to talk to you, I didn’t expect you to show her dead bodies. God, you haven’t changed, have you?”

  She turned her back on him and took a few steps away into the semi-darkness. Katie was about to speak, but Zuliani quieted her with a raised finger. He walked over to Cat and, from behind her, whispered in her ear.

  “So you sent Katie to spy on me. I thought it was all her idea. Of course, I didn’t know then that she was your granddaughter. I was flattered enough to imagine that anyone of her generation had even heard of Niccolo Zuliani. All my celebrity is in the past, after all.” Then he recalled the fire. “And what was left of it has just gone up in smoke.”

  Cat’s face, when she looked at him again, showed her deep feelings. She looked distraught.

  “I am so sorry about that. But surely there are friends who can help you? You were always such a …”

  “Schemer? I was, but that is the problem. People you get to know only want you for your expertise, or else you con them out of money and don’t want to cross their paths again.” He squinted at Cat as another thought crossed his mind. “Was it your idea that Katie asked about my love-life?”

  Cat Dolfin had the good grace to blush at this stage and look away from Zuliani. He laughed uproariously.

  “It was, wasn’t it?”

  She stamped her foot, and bunched her hands into fists.

  “Don’t you laugh at me. I
t was you who dumped me forty years ago when I was carrying your child.”

  That stopped Zuliani in his tracks.

  “My child? So Gurbesu was right all along.”

  Cat wagged a finger at him.

  “Gurbesu, eh? That was your Eastern … trollop, I suppose.”

  Zuliani gave her a wry smile.

  “One of many, actually. But none so … exotic as Gurbesu.” He leaned forward, and whispered in her ear again. “She reminded me of you.”

  Cat pushed him away, but she couldn’t wipe a smile off her lips. This old man with grey hair shot through his red locks was as roguish as he had been all those years ago. She couldn’t help loving him all over again.

  “You couldn’t keep your hands off me, could you?”

  “Not then, not now.”

  He grasped her round the waist, and felt his manhood hardening. That hadn’t happened in a long time. He realized Cat was gazing over his shoulder and coughing. He turned his head to see what had distracted her. Katie stood in the centre of the hallway, a big grin pasted on her face. He had completely forgotten about her. Gently the two lovers pulled themselves apart, and Zuliani apologized.

  “Not in front of your grandchild, I suppose.”

  Cat shook her head in dismay.

  “Has it not entered your thick skull yet? I just said I was pregnant when you left forty years ago.”

  Zuliani frowned.

  “Yes. I am sure you and your family did well for the child. But it’s too late for me to play the father now.”

  Cat grimaced.

  “It is. Agostino died five years ago of the plague.”

  Zuliani was touched that she had chosen his father’s name for the child he never knew. But that was the point. He had never known the boy – or even the man. So how could he mourn? He reiterated his point about not being a father. Cat prodded his stomach.

  “Yes, but not too late to be a grandfather, you ninny.”

  Zuliani gaped at Katie, who stepped up to him and hugged her new granddad.

  *

  After the three members of the newly united family had eaten their fill, they sat back with some of that famous Dolfin wine that Zuliani had long envied. Over protests from Katie, Zuliani had insisted on watering the girl’s wine judiciously. He was taking his role as grandfather seriously. He was also revelling in the sight of his long-ago lover, who sat curled up in an armchair in a way that brought to mind the creature he had named her after. Cat may be a grandmother, but her body was still as lithe as any feline. He wondered if she might let him bed her later. But there was still one question that nagged at him, and he couldn’t resist asking it of Cat.

  “Why have you hidden away from me for so long? And why did you have Katie hunt me out now?”

  Cat eased back in the chair, considering her answer. She decided the truth was the best way forward.

  “When I sat in this very house, pregnant with Agostino, and my father told me you had murdered someone and fled Venice, I was angry more than sad. I didn’t entirely believe him, but I was angry at you for leaving me in his clutches. I had to endure the ‘I-told-you-so’s’ for months. Then I was even angrier at you for forcing me to marry Pasquale Valier.”

  Zuliani sat bolt upright.

  “I forced you to marry rat-face Valier?”

  “Well, what else could I do? He accepted your child as his own and gave him a name. You weren’t there to do that. You were enjoying yourself living the high life at the fabled court of Kubilai Khan.”

  Zuliani thought to intervene and tell her just how hard life had been for him then. But he knew better than to set her straight just now. Uninterrupted, she went on.

  “Pasquale was a good husband, and father. And our life in Verona was … settled.’

  She stared pointedly at Zuliani at this statement, challenging him to protest. He bowed his head, and took the cheap shot.

  “And now? Why now?”

  “Because Pasquale died last year.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it.”

  She ignored his comment, as if she had rehearsed her story for a long time, and now nothing would stop her telling it.

  “And because I yearned all those years to be back in Venice, but I couldn’t bear to come and see you, and not get to know you again.”

  Zuliani stirred with excitement in his seat, but Cat held up her hand.

  “Let me finish. That is why now, and also because Katie told me you had got embroiled in the conspiracy to overthrow the Doge. I could not bear the thought that I was free to see you again and you were once more risking being expelled. I persuaded my great-nephew Mario to pass on the news of the conspiracy to Gradenigo. And get you off the hook.”

  Zuliani should have felt euphoria about his old lover caring so much for him that she had extricated him from the mad enterprise that had been the Tiepolo family’s conspiracy. But a very nasty thought was burgeoning in his head. He had been aware of Matteo Mocco’s look, when the avogador had inspected Francesco’s body. It had been one of sour displeasure. Until this moment Zuliani had imagined it was occasioned by the nasty nature of the fire-crisped corpse. Now, he was fearful that the displeasure had been reserved for himself. Mocco had been wondering why the sought-after Tiepolo renegade had been in his house in the first place. Was he guilty of harbouring a criminal. He groaned, and Cat leaned forward, touching his arm.

  “What’s wrong, Nick? Did I do the wrong thing?”

  Zuliani waved aside her concern, and was about to keep his worries to himself. But then, looking from the older woman to the younger and back again, it dawned on him he had a family. And what else were families for if not to share your concerns with? He took a gulp of that good Dolfin wine, and explained his quandary.

  *

  In order to pull Zuliani’s irons out of the fire – almost literally, bearing in mind what had happened to his home – the three of them agreed to divide up their resources. Cat had suggested she would be in the best position to talk to other members of the case vecchie – the old aristocracy of Venice. After all, she was a Dolfin, and one of the case vecchie herself.

  “I will see what the gossip says about Francesco, and if there are still perceived to be any links to you, Nick.”

  Zuliani had agreed with this strategy, only briefly wondering what their lives would have been like if they had joined forces forty years ago. With Cat’s connections and his gift for underhand dealing, they would have been unstoppable. He only hoped they would be so now, or he would have to flee Venice for the second time.

  “And Katie and I will revisit the scene of the crime, and see what we can dig up.”

  Cat started to protest, concerned about her young granddaughter seeing the no doubt ugly corpse again. But Zuliani calmed her worries.

  “Have no fears, the body will have gone by now. I sent a message to the family to come and collect it. I said that, if they didn’t, it would be dumped in the lagoon along with all my other burnt rubbish.”

  Now, he stood outside the door of his shell of a house with Katie at his side. She prodded him.

  “You didn’t send a message, did you? I was with you all the time from when Mocco left to when we got to granny’s house. There was no time for you to send a message.”

  Zuliani grinned conspiratorially at his granddaughter.

  “I won’t tell, if you won’t. Now, do you want to examine this body or not?”

  Katie clapped her hands with delight.

  “Yes, please.”

  The interior of the house looked even gloomier as the day was drawing to a close. But Zuliani had anticipated this and provided them with a lantern from the Dolfin palace. The wind was getting up, and the candle had almost blown out as they crossed the Grand Canal. Even now, inside his empty house, the yellow flame flickered, casting strange shadows on the walls. They ascended the perilous staircase in order to examine Tiepolo’s body once again before the light gave out altogether. It still lay where Zuliani had left it, and he crouched dow
n, holding the lamp close to the gruesome sight. Tiepolo was nothing more than a blackened shell, his knees drawn up to his chest. Any facial features had been destroyed by the fire. His clothes had largely burned away, though Zuliani could see a belt-buckle adhering to the remains, at the point that would have been Tiepolo’s stomach. What was left of his hands were clenched like the talons of a falcon about to grasp its prey. Zuliani glanced at Katie, who was crouched at his side, holding her skirt in a bunch to keep it from the worst of the mess on the floor.

  “What do you think?”

  The girl grimaced.

  “I think he died a bad death.”

  “Whoever he was.”

  Katie frowned at this statement from Zuliani.

  “What do you mean? It’s Francesco Tiepolo – we saw him at the window.”

  “Look at the body again. Then bring to mind what you know of Tiepolo, and what you saw when he was standing at the window waving his arms around.”

  Katie pouted, but did as she was told. For a while she didn’t understand, then she smiled broadly.

  “Move the lantern over here.” She pointed at the claw-shaped hands. “Closer.”

  Zuliani held the lantern so that the candlelight shone where Katie had commanded. She clapped her hands again.

  “There are no rings on this man’s hands, and yet when I saw Tiepolo waving his arms out of the window, there were rings on many of his fingers. I saw the light sparkling on them.” She liked this clever deduction, but she still had a doubt. “Might not the fire have melted the gold?”

  Zuliani nodded.

  “It might. But even if that were so, where are the gems? They would not have been destroyed. The other thing that worried me was when I saw the belt-buckle stuck to this man’s stomach. Despite him being burned to a crisp, there is no sign of Tiepolo’s fat belly. This was a slim man in life.”

  Having made this deduction, Zuliani had crouched over the body for too long, and tried to stand. His knees protested, and he would have stumbled if Katie had not taken his arm and steadied him. Grouchily, he thanked her, not relishing showing his infirmities to a woman, even though she was his granddaughter. Katie made as if she was unaware of his annoyance, and eagerly pursued him concerning the riddle of Tiepolo’s demise. She pushed her errant locks from off her face, once again smearing soot on her brow.