The Devil in Music (68 page)

"Please
give her our love, too," said Niccolo quietly. Bianca could
only nod, her eyes swimming in tears.

Julian
took his leave of them and walked out with Morosi. "Mar-chesa
Francesca was under the impression that they knew why she had gone
away."

"Oh,
no!" Morosi looked shocked. "Marchese Rinaldo took the
greatest care to keep it from them. I'm afraid the boy has begun to
guess the truth he's old enough now to understand servants' gossip.
But Marchese Rinaldo always tried to shield them from having to be
ashamed of their mother."

Julian
was glad he could relieve Francesca of one of her burdens. For his
own part, he was not sure if he thought more of Rinaldo for sparing
his children, or less of him for lying so viciously to his wife.

As
he was leaving, he casually asked Morosi for Palmieri's address. He
hoped Morosi would assume he was seeing the lawyer on some

business
of the Malvezzis. Sure enough, Morosi not only directed him to
Palmieri's chambers but sent for a sediola to take him there.

The
chambers were in a little street off Piazza Fontana, convenient to
the Palace of Justice. The street was so narrow, the iron-railed
balconies nearly met in the middle. Julian rang at the door of a
tall house with crumbling mouldings and green-shuttered windows. A
wizened clerk poked out his head. His gaze ran over Julian's clothes
and lingered approvingly on his boots, which showed by their lack of
mud that he had come in a carriage.

"What
is your business, signor?"

Julian
presented his card. "I wish to see Signor Palmieri at once."

"Have
you an appointment, signor?"

"No.
But I have letters from their Excellencies Marchesa Francesca and
Conte Carlo Malvezzi." Julian drew the letters just far enough
out of his pocket to show the Malvezzi seal.

Fortunately,
the clerk did not ask to read them. He bowed obsequiously and
ushered Julian into a small back parlour that looked as if it had
been furnished with odds and ends from other houses. Julian supposed
Palmieri received few visits from clients in his chambers. Families
like the Malvezzis would expect their lawyer to come to them.

The
clerk left Julian for a few minutes, then returned and bade Julian
follow him upstairs. He waved Julian into a narrow but lofty front
room, its walls and ceiling painted with unconvincing trompeI'oeil
reliefs. The shutters were nearly closed, leaving the room in a
murky half-light. A thin, dark, elderly man rose from behind a desk.
"Signor Kestrel? I am Camillo Palmieri. Please sit down."

They
shook hands, then Julian took a chair opposite. Palmieri dismissed
his clerk and sat down, tucking a gold-rimmed eyeglass into one eye.
"Now then. I understand you have letters for me from my
unfortunate clients."

He
held out his hand. Julian smiled. "Actually, Signor Palmieri,
I came here merely to ask you a question."

"Ah."
Palmieri smiled faintly and clasped his hands before him on the
desk. "I am sure you understand that I cannot discuss my
clients' affairs with a stranger."

"I
do understand," said Julian. "My question is simply this.
I know that Lodovico Malvezzi married Isotta Marini in 1790. Did he
ever go through a second marriage with her?"

Palmieri's
eyeglass dropped on the desk with a clink.

"I
can even tell you the year," Julian added helpfully, "1793.
The marriage was conducted with the greatest secrecy, but Marchese
Lodovico was obliged to confide in his family lawyer about it, in
case it should ever have to be proved."

"But
but how ?"

"How
do I know?" Julian rose, smiling. "I am sure you
understand that I cannot discuss my friends' affairs with a stranger.
Thank you for seeing me, Signer Palmieri. Good afternoon."

On
leaving Palmieri's chambers, Julian began to reflect that he had not
eaten for eight hours. He wanted to return to the lake at once, but
he knew he could not afford to let his strength lapse. He betook
himself to a little blue-awninged cafe in the bustling Corsia dci
Servi. Over millet bread and strong coffee, he realized his next
move was not so simple as he had supposed.

If
he laid his evidence before Grimani, would Grimani act on it? Or
would his mistrust and dislike of Julian hold him back from accepting
a solution to the murders at Julian's hands? It would be disastrous
if the murderer were warned of the impending danger, yet left at
liberty. Then, too, there was always the chance that Julian might
meet with some misadventure on the road. He must not be the only
person who had all the information needed to make his case.

He
needed an ally in Milan, and there was only one person he could turn
to. He took a last swallow of coffee and set off quickly for Conte
Raversi's palace.

Raversi
received him as if he had been hovering in anxious expectancy ever
since Julian came to see him a fortnight ago. "Signer Kestrel,
words cannot express my shock and concern when I heard that my poor
friend's son had died in the same brutal manner as his father. What
in the name of the Virgin Mary could the Carbonari have had against
Rinaldo? Or was it enough for them that he was Lodovico's son?"

"Signor
Conte, I believe I know why both murders were committed, and by
whom."

He
unfolded his solution. Raversi listened in increasing astonishment.
When the story was concluded, he crossed himself and pressed a gaunt
white hand to his heart. "That there should be such wickedness!
It's beyond belief!"

"But
you do believe it, Signor Conte?"

"After
what you've told me, Signer Kestrel, I have no choice. But why have
you come to me with this story? Why not go to the police?"

"I
don't know any senior police official in Milan. And I thought you
would be particularly eager to bring this murderer to justice."

"What
do you mean?" Raversi searched his face.

"Merely
that Marchese Lodovico was your friend, Signer Conte."

Raversi
walked back and forth broodingly for a moment. "What do you
wish me to do?"

"I
should be very grateful if you would present my case to the
Director-General of Police. Knowing how high you stand in the
government's esteem, I'm sure you could do it more effectively than

I."

"I
see. Very well, I will go with you to the police."

"If
you wouldn't mind, Signor Conte, I should like to return to the villa
at once. I'm afraid Grimani may harass Lucia in my absence."
Julian thought a moment. "I should be very grateful if you
would do me one last service."

"What
is that?"

"Will
you write a letter for me to take to Grimani, requesting that he take
our suspect into custody pending official instructions from Milan?
Without the backing of a man of your rank and importance, I can't
answer for his cooperation. And it's vital that we act quickly, if
we're to take our quarry unawares."

"As
you wish, Signor Kestrel."

Raversi
sat down at his battered writing-table and composed a letter briefly
stating Julian's case against the suspect and bidding Grimani make an
arrest. He gave it to Julian to read, then folded it up very small,
addressed it to Grimani, and sealed it with his family device, a
mermaid blowing a horn.

"Shall
I order you a post-chaise to the lake?" Raversi asked.

"You're
very kind. Thank you."

The
two men shook hands. When Raversi would have withdrawn his, Julian
held it a moment longer. "I want you to know that I'm very
grateful to you."

Raversi
searched Julian's face again. But Julian only smiled, bowed, and
waited for Raversi to ring for the post-chaise.

To
Julian's exasperation, the roads to the lake were still choked with
waggons of grapes. He did not reach Como till nearly eight in the
evening. At least he had no difficulty finding a boat to take him to

the
villa: the harbour was full of idle craft. He beckoned to one of the
boatmen, who nosed his boat up alongside the pier so that Julian
could board.

Julian
got in. "Why are there so many of you in the harbour?"

"There's
been a terrible storm, signor! One moment the afternoon sun was
smiling on us the next, the winds swept down, lightning filled the
sky, thunder roared like a thousand cannons, and the lake churned
with waves fit to crack our boats like nuts. It's over now, thank
Santa Pelagia, but those of us who were caught in it weren't in any
hurry to venture out again!"

As
he talked, the boatman took his place standing in the bow and pushed
away from the pier with his long oar. The boat glided into the open
lake, the lantern in the prow cutting a gold swathe through the
water. The night air was mild, the sky clear and flecked with stars.
It was hard to believe a violent storm could have raged so recently.
But the weather on the lake was famous for its treachery.

There
were few boats out even now. But just as Julian made out the lights
of the villa in the distance, a boat slid out of the shadows along
the bank and headed toward them. The lantern in the prow showed a
large, muscular figure plying the oar.

The
boat cut smoothly in front of Julian's, stopping it in its course.
The man in the prow leaned down, peering through the gloom. The
lantern light caught the glint of gold rings in his ears. "Signor
Kestrel?"

"Good
evening, Guido," said Julian.

"Good
evening, signor." Guido sounded anxious. "Have you seen
my master?"

"No.
I've only just arrived from Milan."

"He
went out rowing before the storm, and he hasn't come back."
Guido turned to the boatman. "Have you seen him?"

"No,"
said the boatman. "I pray he's not drowned. Poor gentleman, he
handled a boat better than any Excellency I ever saw."

Guido
shook his head somberly. "If you see him, will you tell him I'm
out looking for him, and the people at the villa are getting
worried?"

"I
will," the boatman promised.

"I
almost forgot, Signor Kestrel." Guido reached into his pocket.
"I have a letter for you. You may want to read it at once. I
was told it was important."

He
handed Julian a folded paper. The boatman unhooked the lantern from
the prow and placed it on the seat in front of Julian, so that

he
could see. Julian unfolded the paper. A lock of brown hair fell
out. Julian's heart jerked. He held the letter to the light. It
was in English, in Carlo's firm, flowing hand:

I
am sorry to resort to these measures, but you would interfere. When
I learned you intended to see Palmieri in Milan, I could take no
farther chances.

I
have your servant, and the girl Nina as well. You will see from the
lock of your servant's hair that I speak the truth. We are awaiting
you at the caves. Even now, Guido will be making a signal to let me
know that you are reading this letter.

Julian
looked up. Guido had unhooked his boat lantern and was waving it up
and down and from side to side in an immense sign of the cross. If
Carlo were watching from the foot of the crag, outside the caves, he
could not fail to see that light sweeping the darkness.

When
you finish reading it, you will give it back to Guido. Then you will
get into his boat and let him bring you to me. If you are not at the
caves with him fifteen minutes after I see his signal, then you may
come at your leisure, and bury whatever is left of your servant and
the girl.

Julian
drew a long breath, controlling his anger controlling, too, the wave
of panic rising in his chest. What had he done to Dipper Dipper, who
had begged him to stay out of this investigation? Of course, Carlo
might be bluffing might not have Dipper at all but Julian could not
gamble with Dipper's life. He had no illusion about what lay before
him. His going to the caves would not bring about Dipper's and
Nina's release. Carlo could not afford to let any of them live. Yet
Julian must do as he demanded, and quickly. Fifteen minutes was
barely enough time to reach the caves.

Julian's
boatman had been watching Guido's manoeuvres with the lantern
curiously. "What are you doing?"