Farewell to the Flesh (20 page)

“In what way?”

“Oh, he was good-looking and intelligent, too, but he didn't take himself so seriously. Maybe that came of being more than ten years older.”

Her comment surprised Urbino because one of the things that had struck him about Gibbon was just how self-important he could be. But that had been with him, another man. He might have been completely different with Hazel.

“But who knows why we fall in love with one person and not someone else?
Le coeur a ses raisons
. It's true. And we don't fall in love with the one we want to or even with the better person—frequently the opposite, in fact.”

She seemed to consider this before going on.

“Tonio didn't understand any of this. How could he? I still don't understand it myself. When I told him about my feelings for Val—on Boxing Day, far from the best time, I know—he wouldn't believe it. He said that I would feel different after a while, that he knew I really loved him.”

Tears came into her eyes.

“Sometimes since then I've thought that Tonio might have been right. He's such a good person. Val had a nasty side to him when it came to Tonio. He was envious of him—not so much because of me or because Tonio had so much money but because Tonio was privileged in a way he had never been. Val would follow him around sometimes and take his picture as if he were trying to learn some secret about him that would show up in the photograph. Exactly what he got out of doing that, I never could figure out.”

“And what about Mrs. Pillow? How did she feel about you and Val—about the problems between you and Tonio?”

According to Tonio and Mrs. Pillow, Val Gibbon's name had never been mentioned between them.

“Tonio said he didn't tell her, and he didn't want me to say anything either—as if I would! He even suggested that I come over to dinner before they both left for Naples, but I couldn't have gone through with that. It would have been a farce. His stepmother would have seen through it. She's an intelligent woman.”

“How did you get along with her?”

“Well enough. I don't think that she was that taken with me. There was some girl back in America, a niece of Mrs. Pillow's from her second marriage, not any relation to Tonio, of course. I'm sure Mrs. Pillow would probably have accepted me in the end. She loves Tonio as much as if he were her natural son and I suppose you can't blame her for wanting to protect him. Who knows? Maybe another woman could see that I didn't really love Tonio even if I couldn't see it myself. Maybe that was why she didn't completely approve of me.”

“Did Tonio know that you would be here in Venice with Gibbon?”

She stiffened slightly in her chair.

“I wouldn't quite say that I was ‘here in Venice with him.' Porfirio invited me to stay with him. I had already accepted before I knew that Val would be here too. He came for
Carnevale
, and once he was here he was asked to take photographs of the church and the convent. But you know that.”

Hazel looked down into the brandy glass cupped in her hands. She still hadn't answered his question of whether or not Tonio Vico had known she would be in Venice. Urbino asked her again.

“I didn't tell him.” Then, perhaps realizing that this wasn't enough, she added, “He didn't know. I don't know how he could have known. The only people who knew were Porfirio, my editor, and Val, of course. Besides, Tonio has been down in Naples with his stepmother for the past few weeks—or so I thought.”

In her wide green eyes he saw puzzlement, as if she were asking herself how Vico had come to be in Venice at the same time she was. She took out her handkerchief again and this time she was crying, deep sobs that wracked her small frame.

Urbino went over to her. He put his arm around her shoulders and let her cry.

“You'll stay here tonight, Hazel. You say you don't want to go back to Porfirio's and I don't think you have much chance of getting a room at this hour, not during
Carnevale
. After a good night's sleep, Natalia will fix you breakfast and we'll go to the Questura.”

She dried her tears and looked up at him gratefully. He went to get her a glass of mineral water. As he was bringing it back, he realized something with a start.

He had also promised Tonio Vico just a few hours ago that he would go to the Questura in the morning with him. It was a strange dilemma to be in. He might even have seen some humor in it if it hadn't been a question of murder.

29

But next morning he soon realized that it made no difference what impossible promises he had made. When Natalia went to the guest bedroom to see about Hazel, she came back with a puzzled look on her face.

“There's no one there, Signor Urbino.” Then she added, as if to assure him that he hadn't been mistaken but had indeed had an overnight guest, “But the bed was used.”

She picked up the bag of espresso beans and started to measure them out, more absorbed in the task than was necessary.

“I think there's a note on the dresser. Do you want me to get it?”

“No, thank you, Natalia. I'll get it myself.”

A page ripped from an appointment book was propped on the dresser against the mirror. In an obviously hurried hand was the message:

Urbino,

I'm going back to Porfirio's for a few hours. I'll go to the Questura on my own. It might be better that way. Don't worry.

Hazel

When the phone rang a few minutes later, he was still holding Hazel's note. It was the Contessa.

“Are you awake,
caro?
I'm afraid I have bad news. We've got another violent death to account for. Porfirio's dead. His body was found in San Gabriele this morning.” The Contessa paused. “It seems he broke his neck in a fall from the fresco you and Josef are restoring.”

Part Three

B
UT THE TRUTH NOT TO EVERYONE

1

Urbino called Porfirio's apartment a few minutes later. Carmela, the photographer's maid, answered, but before Urbino could ask the breathless, abstracted woman for Hazel, the phone was taken from her and a male voice came over the line.

“The residence of Porfirio Buffone. Who is this?”

Urbino recognized Commissario Gemelli's voice.

“Urbino Macintyre. Is that Commissario Gemelli?”

“Are you disappointed that I'm here before you, Macintyre? Maybe you're thinking you should have accompanied Signorina Reeve back here from your place. It seems that you've been lacking in gallantry with this particular young lady.”

“She's there then? Is she all right?”

“Yes, she's here and I suppose she's all right. She hasn't flown away again, which is the important thing. She's apologetic about her little excursion to Mestre and seems reasonably upset over the death of her host. Not any tears but she has a very white face.”

“She came here last night.”

“And spent the night—yes, I know—and told you how she stayed in Mestre after leaving you in the Campo San Barnaba. She told me all about Antonio Vico, the son of a friend of the Contessa da Capo-Zendrini.”

“A stepson. Vico was planning to come to see you this morning. He still is, I'm sure.”

“Is he? And how do you know?”

“I was with him last night at the Ca' da Capo-Zendrini. He told us—that is, his stepmother, Mrs. Pillow, the Contessa, and myself—that he knew Gibbon. He asked me to go to the Questura with him this morning.”

“I'm impressed, Macintyre. It appears that you are the confidant of two very important people in our investigation into Gibbon's murder. I'm sure you realize that this carries a responsibility. And now there's this business of Porfirio Buffone's death. I don't dare ask you what your theories are about the deaths of two photographers who knew Signorina Reeve, but I would like to know about your movements during the past twelve hours—that is, when you weren't entertaining Signorina Reeve and getting Antonio Vico's confidences.”

“My movements?”

“Exactly. I know you've become involved in an amateur way in restoration and have been helping the Polish man with his work at San Gabriele. But we needn't discuss this over the telephone, Macintyre. Come to the Questura in about two hours. Bring along Antonio Vico, too. We wouldn't want him staying in his room afraid to face the police without you by his side.”

Urbino next called the Splendide-Suisse and asked to be connected with the Vico-Pillow suite.

“Oh, it's you, Mr. Macintyre,” Mrs. Pillow said with faint surprise. “Tony was going to call you but he wanted to be sure you were awake.”

Urbino looked at the clock on the table. It wasn't even seven-thirty.

“Tony's being very brave about going to the police. I'm glad that you'll be with him.”

“I don't want either you or your stepson to think I can work any magic with the Questura, Mrs. Pillow. I'm not on the best footing with them myself. Commissario Gemelli and I have had a strained relationship during the past few years. I don't know what I can do for your stepson other than accompany him to San Lorenzo and be with him for as long as Gemelli thinks appropriate.”

He didn't mention that Gemelli wanted to see him in his own right. In fact, he didn't see any point in mentioning the death of Porfirio at all.

“I have a feeling that you're being too modest, Mr. Macintyre, but in any case I'm happy he'll be going with you. Tony and I have talked it over and he thinks it would be better if he didn't have his mother along. Someone like yourself has the virtue of not being biased in his favor.”

Urbino didn't get a chance to talk with Vico, but Mrs. Pillow assured him that her stepson would be waiting downstairs in the lounge at ten.

2

Gemelli's door opened. The Commissario ushered out a white-faced Vico.

“Signor Vico is free either to wait for you or to go wherever he wishes—as soon as he reads and signs the typed version of his statement, that is. It's being prepared.”

“I think I'll go back to the hotel when I'm finished here, if you don't mind,” Vico said to Urbino.

“Good idea. I'm sure your mother is concerned.”

From his first moments alone with Gemelli in his office, Urbino sensed a somewhat different attitude in the Commissario from his usual one of cynical forbearance and irony. Instead of asking insinuating questions about his relationship to the restoration of the fresco and the last time he had been on the scaffold, he smiled at him over the desk and thanked him for encouraging Vico to talk with him.

“I'm not sure how much I had to do with that. He would have come on his own.”

“But he wouldn't have been quite as much at ease. He had little enough to tell us about Gibbon though—except that he knew about him. The big question is why Signorina Reeve didn't mention Vico.”

“She says she didn't know he was in Venice until a few nights ago.”

“But she didn't even mention another man to us.”

“She said that she had been seeing someone else when she met Gibbon. Even if she intended to conceal her relationship with Vico, it doesn't necessarily mean that she had any motive other than sparing them both some embarrassment.”

“But she told you about another man, didn't she? She must realize that every piece of information, no matter how insignificant it might seem or how embarrassing it might be, can be of vital importance to the police. What else did she have to tell you?”

Gemelli's little smile warned Urbino that it was unreasonable to expect the Commissario to relinquish completely an attitude that was probably as ingrained personally as it was professionally.

As gulls screeched outside, Urbino told Gemelli how Hazel had been engaged to Vico before meeting Gibbon, how she hadn't known Vico was in town until she saw him at the Montin, how she had gone to Mestre to think things through.

“And then came back straight to you, not us,” Gemelli added. “She's told us all of this—although I see no reason why either of us should believe that it's all she has to tell us. She might be parceling out information from embarrassment, as you seem to think, or for some other reason. We're finished with her for the time being but we've made it clear that we would prefer her to stay in Venice for a while longer. I hope we made it clearer this time than we did last. If you learn anything from her that seems important, I'm sure you'll let us know. That goes for Vico and your friend Lubonski, too. In the light of Porfirio Buffone's death, we'll be going to the hospital to ask Lubonski about the scaffold. He can have visitors now. It's a remote possibility, but Lubonski might be able to tell us something that could link the two deaths. Gibbon and Buffone were both photographers.”

Gemelli stood up and went to the window that looked out over the Rio di San Lorenzo, where the police boats were moored. He drew aside the curtain.

“I'm asking for your cooperation, Macintyre, the kind of cooperation without which we couldn't get our work done. I'm not asking you to do anything more than that. If these men come down from Scotland Yard on Wednesday, I would appreciate it if you would first tell us whatever it is you might have to tell them. Today is Sunday. Even a dedicated chief of police doesn't work seven days a week. But it's
Carnevale
. We have a lot to take into consideration. It would be a coup if we could get this case wrapped up before they come down.”

Urbino, surprised and gratified by Gemelli's appeal, decided to seize an opportunity unlikely to come again.

“I understand you, Commissario. I've never had any other intention but to help. But if you want me to be able to help you as much as I can, I should know a few things—more than you were able to tell me on Friday.”

The Commissario turned away from the window, his dark, handsome face troubled. He looked down at Urbino.