Frail Barrier (24 page)

‘The only time I've seen him recently was at the funeral. Of course he wasn't in control of his voice, but there was a tremendous amount of emotional pull in it. He's always had a problem of using his air correctly, and we've been working on his approach to the high notes. He's a little afraid of them. He had a lesson scheduled two days after the funeral, but he never came.'

‘I'm worried that he might be wearing himself out between his grief over Albina and his practice for the regatta.'

‘Grieving can be a problem, but as far as physical exercise is concerned, it's the best thing for him – or for his voice.
Vox sano in corpore sano
. If your body isn't healthy and strong, your voice won't be either.'

‘It's lucky for your students, then, that they have Perla.'

‘What do you mean by that?'

A shadow of annoyance crossed Romolo's face.

Urbino gestured toward the pitcher and glasses.

‘Her special tinctures and herbs.'

‘Oh, I see! Ha, ha! Yes, Perla and I are a good team.'

The door from the hallway opened and a stout young man entered.

‘I'll be with you in a few minutes, Antonio.'

The student went over to the pitcher and poured himself a glass of water.

‘I'll leave you to your student, Romolo. Keep up the good work.'

‘You, too.'

Urbino wondered what work of his Romolo had in mind. It seemed that this would be an excellent opening to mention his book about Albina, partly as a way of showing Romolo that he interpreted his comment as referring to his biographies and not his sleuthing. Romolo listened with interest and observed that it was a good idea and an excellent way of remembering the dead woman. He said that he had a few things that he'd be happy to pass on to Urbino.

‘Let's get together after the regatta,' he said, ‘at our place.'

He promised that he would tell Perla about Urbino's project.

But Urbino had the opportunity to do this himself a few minutes later when he met Perla on the landing below Beato's studio. She was carrying one of her shop's small bags.

‘Getting your tenor strengthened?' she said with a smile. She looked cool in a lime green dress. Her blonde hair was loose around her shoulders.

‘Romolo said the same thing.'

‘That's what happens after you've been married for a while. You start to think and say the same things.'

‘There are a lot of things worse than that.'

‘Well, we haven't reached the familiarity breeds contempt stage. We'll skip that one completely, if you don't mind. So tell me, is it guilt that brings you here to Romolo's studio?'

‘Guilt?'

‘You're the kind of fair-minded person who would be consumed with it. You pay my shop a long overdue visit, and now you've done the same with Romolo's studio. That's very considerate of you – and very clever.'

‘You've caught me. But I came for a good reason. It's for Claudio's sake.'

Perla flinched almost imperceptibly.

‘Claudio? Is he here?'

She looked up in the direction of the closed door of Romolo's studio.

‘No, but I wanted to ask Romolo how he thought Claudio was coping with things. Albina's death, I mean. What I was hoping to hear was that he was keeping to his lessons. I know how important his singing is to him, and if he can focus on that, I think it would be a big help.'

‘He has the regatta to take his mind off things.'

‘True, but that has its own share of worry.'

‘Well, I hope Romolo was able to put your mind at ease.'

‘Not really.'

What might have been alarm, quickly controlled, widened Perla's brown eyes.

‘Oh, no, it's not his fault,' Urbino said. ‘It's just that he said he hasn't seen Claudio since before Albina died. It seems he canceled his last lesson and apparently hasn't rescheduled.'

‘Let's hope he's fine.'

‘Have you seen him recently?'

‘Me? No, not since the funeral, and I don't go to Florian's as much as I used to.'

‘He's been taking some time off from Florian's recently.'

‘How good for him. But excuse me. I have to get moving. I want to drop this off.'

She indicated the package.

‘Something to make the water more beneficial for the singers?'

‘So Romolo told you? Yes, that's what it is.'

Before Perla could dash up the stairs, Urbino mentioned the book on Albina and how Romolo had said that the three of them would get together after the regatta.

‘We'll have a whole evening of remembering her,' Perla said.
‘Ciao!'

As Urbino approached Ca' Foscari, the main seat of the university, after leaving Romolo's studio, he kept his eye alert for any of Benigni's obituary notices. He didn't see any.

He passed through the Gothic doorway into the courtyard with its covered wellhead and stone staircase, and went into the building's
androne
. The palazzo's large ground-floor hall that extended to the water entrance, where the Grand Canal sparkled in the sunlight on the other side of high glass doors, had been renovated from its original Gothic style. It was now a serviceable, soulless space. He searched a bulletin board, but he didn't find Benigni's death notice.

He went to the window of the
portineria
, with its computers and video cameras, and asked what floor the Department of Art History was on.

He was told that it had moved to another location closer to the Zattere. The man took out a small map and pointed out the palazzo, which was next to the Church of the Ognissanti.

Fifteen minutes later Urbino was in the entrance hall of the building examining a wall plastered with posters and notices. He must have looked a little disoriented, for a middle-aged woman with straight white hair in a blunt cut came up to him. She was carrying a pile of art books.

‘Excuse me, signore, may I help you?'

He explained that he had come on behalf of the sister of one of the art students.

‘Luca Benigni. He died recently. She – we – want to be sure that his colleagues and teachers know about it. I thought there was a notice here, but I haven't found it, not so far.'

‘Oh, yes, Luca.' Her voice rang with a depth of feeling. ‘There was a notice on the board, with his photograph. There was another one in the neighborhood somewhere. The one here must have been removed.'

‘You knew Luca?'

‘He took my lecture course on Giotto. Why not tell his sister to put up another obituary in a few weeks? The returning students will have a chance to see it. And please give her my condolences. He was a nice boy and quite intelligent. He did an excellent project about the Scrovegni Chapel.' The Scrovegni Chapel, which had a beautiful and historically significant fresco cycle by Giotto, was in Padua. ‘I didn't see much of him during the last academic year, though.'

‘He was taking some time off. He had a friend who was ill.'

She nodded.

‘Signor Zoll from Munich. He contributed books on Islamic art to our library and came to some of my lectures. I heard that he's very ill. He paid us a visit in April. He didn't look well. Do you know how he's doing?'

Urbino told her that Zoll had died at the beginning of the month, about a week before Luca.

‘I'm very sorry to hear that, but I can't say that I'm surprised.' She gave Urbino her card. ‘As soon as we get another obituary, I'll see to it personally that it stays up long enough to give people a good chance to see it. And I'll put up something about Signor Zoll. He was very well liked. Please give my condolences to his relatives.'

After leaving the building, Urbino walked around the neighborhood, first in one direction, then another, looking for the other death announcement that the professor had seen. This quarter was on one of the routes between the Zattere and Claudio's apartment near San Tomà. It was a likely area for him to have seen the notice.

Urbino eventually gave up his search. He saw a lot of graffiti, but no obituaries for anyone. The second storm had battered the city after Clementina had put up Luca's. In all likelihood, it had blown away or, as had happened at the Department of Art History, it had been removed.

‘How did your ride with Hollander go?' the contessa asked Urbino that afternoon at the Ca' da Capo-Zendrini. They were in the
salotto blu
, a small, comfortable room whose furniture, art, and bibelots reflected the contessa's sensibility. She had returned to Venice with Ausonio a few hours earlier to prepare for the Torcello outing tomorrow.

‘It was a nice evening. He's looking forward to the Torcello trip and meeting Ausonio. Where is Ausonio? I'd like to say hello.'

Urbino started to move from the mantelpiece.

‘You'll have to wait until tomorrow. He's in the conservatory. Once he gets involved in there, you have to drag him out physically. He'll have a long list of what we're doing wrong with the plants.'

Ausonio was a fanatical amateur botanist, someone Urbino admired, given the fact that he wished he knew more about botany himself. The contessa had one of the best private conservatories in the city. A horticulturalist from Padua made regular visits. She had kept it more or less the way it had been before she had married the conte. Whenever Ausonio visited, he was full of criticisms and recommendations.

‘I hope things go smoothly tomorrow,' she said, straightening a cushion beside her on the sofa.

‘Even at this time of year Torcello will be rather quiet. Not like Venice anyway, or even Murano and Burano. Don't worry.'

‘I
am
worrying! And it's not about Torcello. It's about you! The more I think about this trip, the more I feel that you're making me complicitous before the fact or something like that.'

She made a sound of exasperation and diverted her gaze from Urbino to the Veronese over the fireplace above his head. It showed a golden-haired, barebacked Venus dividing her attention between two handsome bearded swains beneath a lush tree. It was one of the Conte Alvise's wedding gifts to his new wife. The contessa always found comfort in contemplating it, mainly, Urbino assumed, for its pleasant associations. In any case, although he liked Veronese, the painting wasn't quite to Urbino's taste. It struck a note of discord in the intimate room and seemed a peculiar choice of subject for a wedding gift.

‘Yes, complicitous,' the contessa repeated when she looked back at Urbino. ‘I don't know how or why. I don't want to know.'

‘Ignorance is usually not a defense,' Urbino joked.

‘I can see I'm not going to get anywhere with you. Go home, and whatever you might be thinking of, think again, and don't do it!' She rose from the sofa. ‘Pasquale will bring Ausonio and me to your place at eight thirty tomorrow morning.'

‘Perfect.'

‘You'll be there, won't you?' the contessa asked pointedly.

‘I'll be waiting for you at the water entrance, most eagerly.'

As he had promised, Urbino was at the Palazzo Uccello's water entrance when the contessa's motorboat drew up the next morning. The contessa and Ausonio were sitting in the cabin.

‘You're dressed for the day,' the contessa said when he seated himself beside her.

She was evidently relieved to see him in his boater and blazer. The heat of the day, as well as the desire to avoid playing his part too obviously, had made him decide against flannels and a red bowtie, however.

‘The same could be said about you, Barbara,' Urbino responded, taking in her flowing fawn and cream dress and the large-brimmed hat slightly angled on her head.

Urbino and Ausonio renewed their acquaintance. Ausonio was a tall, thin man in his late thirties whose fair hair was receding at the temples. He spoke excellent English. Urbino apologized for not having paid him a visit recently.

When they were approaching the Rialto Bridge, Urbino gave a small sigh and said, ‘My stomach has been acting up for the past few days.'

The contessa looked at him sharply.

‘It has? You didn't mention it yesterday.'

‘You know how I am, Barbara. I don't like to complain.'

She raised her eyebrows slightly at this.

‘To be honest, Urbino,' Ausonio said, ‘you look a little peaked. Have you been sleeping well?'

Urbino, caught between gratitude to Ausonio for unknowingly helping him out in this way and irritation at a comment he didn't think was true, gave them both a weak smile.

‘It kept me up last night. And it's been getting worse since I got up.'

‘You have to take care of yourself,' Ausonio said. ‘You look very pale.'

‘Do I?'

The alarm in Urbino's voice was not feigned.

‘Indeed, you do. Doesn't he, Barbara?'

‘Urbino has always been pale.'

The contessa spoke with hardly any inflection.

Urbino said nothing more about the topic until they arrived at the Gritti Palace. Hollander waved from the terrace and a few minutes later he was getting into the boat. The contessa introduced him to Ausonio.

Once again Ausonio was a help to Urbino.

‘I hope you're feeling more fit than Urbino,' he said to Hollander. ‘He's under the weather. Just look at the poor fellow.'

By this point Urbino was beginning to think that he did indeed look as bad as he was saying he felt.

‘What is it?' Hollander said.

‘My stomach. I thought I'd feel better once I got out of the house.'

‘I'm sorry to hear that.' Hollander examined Urbino's face more closely, something that Urbino always found discomfiting.

‘You'll all have to excuse me,' Urbino said, ‘but I won't be good company for a trip all the way to Torcello.' He arose from his seat. ‘I'm going to have to go back home. I'm sorry, Barbara.'

The contessa wore an impassive expression.