The Devil in Music (75 page)

MacGregor
knit his brows. "But wasn't he afraid Palmieri would

reveal
you'd come asking questions about Lodovico's marriage to Rinaldo's
mother? If he did that, someone else might make the same deductions
you did."

"You
don't know Signor Palmieri," said Beatrice. "He would have
volunteered nothing to the authorities. His career is built on
keeping clients' secrets."

Valeriano
could no longer contain himself. "If all this is true, then
Lodovico Malvezzi was more of a villain than even I ever dreamed!"
He jumped up and walked back and forth, his hands lifted as if to
throttle the empty air. "That he should have seduced my mother
by pretending to marry her was bad enough. But that he made her his
lawful wife, then deceived her into thinking she was his whore, and
her child was a bastard by God, if he were alive now, I really could
kill him!"

"Pietro!"
Francesca was at his side, taking him lovingly by the arm. "My
dear, don't think of the past. It's too late to change it now. Think
of the future we shall have together you and me, and my children, too
your niece and nephew!" She turned to Grimani. "Signor
Com-missa rio may we go to them now?"

"You'll
have to remain here until the investigation is officially closed,"
said Grimani.

"We
could send for the children," said Valeriano. "Marchesa
Beatrice, would you be kind enough to help us?"

"But
surely you don't need my help," said Beatrice, smiling.

Valeriano
looked puzzled. After a moment he said tentatively to Ernesto,
"Could you arrange for a servant to take a message to the
children's tutor?"

Ernesto
bowed. "You have only to ask, Excellency."

"There,
you see," said Valeriano to Francesca, "it " He froze,
then turned slowly back to Ernesto. "What did you call me?"

"If
I've understood Signor Kestrel aright, you're my master's eldest
true-born son. That makes you Marchese Malvezzi."

"But
but that's impossible! I can't be a marchese! You know what I am!"

"It
doesn't prevent you inheriting a title," said Beatrice.

"But
I can't even produce an heir "

"You
don't have to!" Francesca clasped his arm. "If Rinaldo
was legitimate, then Niccolo can inherit. My son will be your heir.
Oh, Pietro, it will be almost as if "

They
looked into each other's eyes, hardly believing in this new turn of
the Wheel of Fortune. The others murmured congratulations,

then
tactfully dispersed into small groups about the room all except St.
Carr, who was half asleep in his chair.

Just
then a soldier arrived and reported to Grimani that Guido had been
found at a tavern a mile or two up the coast. He had been taken to
the Solaggio barracks. Grimani said he would interrogate both him
and Carlo tomorrow morning.

"What
will happen to them Carlo and Guido?" MacGregor asked Julian.

"Guido
would most likely be hanged if he weren't hand-in-glove with Carlo.
It would be awkward to hang one and not the other, and the
authorities are loath to execute men of Carlo's birth. Still, Carlo
killed his own brother and nephew, both marchesi. He may have to pay
the supreme penalty. I believe that, being nobly born, he has an
ancient right to insist on being beheaded rather than hanged."

Another
messenger arrived. This time it was one of Ruga's gendarmes, with a
warrant for Fletcher's committal to the village gaol. Grimani
ordered Zanetti to have Fletcher brought in.

"What
are your grounds for holding him?" Julian asked.

"He
may have been in league with Carlo," said Grimani. "At the
very least, I mean to find out once and for all why he fled from the
villa on the night of the murder, and why he announced his presence
to us on the evening of the festival, while keeping his identity a
secret. It all smacks of Carbonarism."

The
two soldiers who had been guarding Fletcher brought him in. Grimani
went up to him. "Signer Fletcher "

St.
Carr started fully awake. "Look here, Commissario, you can't
do this."

"Can't?"
Grimani's head snapped round at him. "I advise you to keep out
of this, Signer St. Carr."

"I
can't keep out of it. I won't. You're all wrong if you think Hugo
had anything to do with those murders. He may have masqueraded under
a silly Greek name and gone about singing under people's windows at
night. He's odd enough for anything. But he wouldn't commit a
murder certainly not a shabby, craven murder of an unarmed man. He's
a man of honour."

"He's
a liar and a trickster," said Grimani. "He deceived us
all, you among the rest."

"If
he did," said St. Carr, working it out slowly and painfully,
"he must have had a good reason. He must have been serving some
end that was more important than telling the truth."

"He'll
have ample time to reflect on that," said Grimani, "He
won't get out of prison till he's unburdened himself of all his
secrets."

"I
don't believe he has any secrets," said St. Carr. "And if
he has, I expect they're no business of yours."

"Beverley
" began Fletcher, alarmed.

"Oh,
don't be an ass, Hugo!" exclaimed St. Carr. "This is no
time to be trying to keep me out of trouble. Who the deuce is going
to keep you out? Signor Commissario, my father knows the British
consul in Milan and the British ambassador in Vienna, and I'll see to
it that they make it hot for you if you harm a hair of Mr.
Fletcher's head!"

"Have
a care, Signor St. Carr," said Grimani. "I can easily
make you out an accomplice."

"Sir,"
said St. Carr, trembling with indignation, "I shouldn't advise
you to try!"

"Signor
Commissario." Donati's gentle voice silenced both combatants.
"I have a favour to beg of you. Before you take my pupil away
to gaol, I should like to hear him sing."

"Don't
be ridiculous," said Grimani.

"This
may be my only chance," Donati pleaded. "I trained that
voice. It would mean a great deal to me to hear it one last time."

Fletcher
was shaking his head violently. "No. No. I couldn't."

"You
will if I order it!" said Grimani.

"But
I can't I'm not "

"We
know you've had no chance to practise," Donati soothed. "We'll
understand if you're not in voice."

"I'll
allow it," said Grimani. "But I warn you not to play any
tricks, Signor Fletcher. I know how prisoners send messages by their
choice of songs, and by inventing their own lyrics."

"I'll
choose the song, by your leave," said Donati. "Or better
still, let Signor Kestrel choose it. He deserves the honour, after
all he's done."

"Thank
you, Maestro." Julian thought a moment. "My peace depends
on hers."

"Mozart!"
beamed Donati. "Orfeo's favourite!"

"I'm
not well," stammered Fletcher, who did look a little green. "I
should only make a hash of it. Perhaps tomorrow "

"Don't
worry." Lucia slipped her hand in his. "Everything will
be all right."

"Take
me into the music room, Sebastiano," said Donati. "I want
to accompany him, just as I used to."

Sebastiano
led Donati into the music room and seated him at the

piano.
The others gathered around them, Lucia still holding Fletcher's
hand. Donati played the opening chords. Orfeo drew a long breath
and let fly:

"My
peace depends on hers, Whatever pleases her gives life to me "

"Bravo!"
Donati broke off playing and clapped his hands. "That is my
pupil! That is his voice!"

No
one else spoke. They were all staring, dumbfounded, at the singer
not Fletcher, but Julian Kestrel.

"You!"
burst out MacGregor. "You are Orfeo!"

"I
am Orfeo." Julian's heart was pounding. He could not look at
the marchesa not yet.

"But,
good God, man!" MacGregor sputtered. "Do you mean to say
that you came all the way to Italy to carry on a hunt for yourself?"

"Not
for myself. For the marchese's murderer and I was the only one who
knew for certain they weren't one and the same. So you see, I was in
a unique position to solve the murder if I could only avoid being
convicted of it first."

"Just
a moment!" MacGregor's brows drew together. "On the night
of the festival, I saw you on the library balcony while Orfeo was
singing on the south terrace. How did you contrive to be in two
places at once?"

"In
the time-honoured tradition of comic opera, I exchanged clothes with
my servant. Dipper went out on the balcony wearing my coat and hat,
with pat tens on his feet to give him a little more height. He had
the light behind him, so that you only saw him in silhouette. He can
imitate the way I walk and stand well enough to be mistaken for me at
that distance. Afterward, while everyone else rushed to the south
terrace to look for Orfeo, Dipper ran north up the shore path and
jumped into the lake. He left a white rag tied to the branch of a
tree so that I would know he'd got away safely."

Julian
turned to Lucia. She smiled at him, the recognition she had hidden
for so long shining in her face. He went to her and took her hand.
"My dear Barbarina, how can I thank you for what you did for me?
If it hadn't been for your courage, your loyalty, and your faith, I
should be in prison, the murders unsolved, my own life in danger, and
Carlo free to wreak whatever villainy he liked. For all that's been
accomplished here, the credit is yours."

"I'm
sorry I had to be so harsh with you," she said. "I didn't
want you to give yourself away. The longer I could stop you, the
more time you would have to find the real murderer."

Grimani
was white with rage. "Signor Kestrel, I arrest you in the name
of the Emperor of Austria and the Viceroy of Lombardy-Venetia."
He turned sharply to the soldiers. "Handcuff him and take him
to gaol!"

"We
don't have a warrant," stammered Zanetti.

"I'll
answer for that!" Grimani snarled.

"On
what charge am I arrested?" Julian asked.

"You've
obstructed a police investigation."

"Really?"
De la Marque raised his brows in amusement. "I should have
thought that Mr. Kestrel's solving the murders would have been of
some slight assistance to the police."

"Mind
you," MacGregor told Grimani sympathetically, "I can
understand your wanting to blow up Kestrel. I'd like to myself.
He's led us all a dance I've never seen the like of. But he's not a
criminal. What's more, he has powerful friends the new Marchese
Malvezzi, for one."

Valeriano
stepped into his unaccustomed role like the seasoned performer he
was. "Of course I should feel compelled to take it up with the
Viceroy."

"And
I'll tell the British consul," piped up St. Carr, "and the
ambassador "

"I've
already heard the list of your official acquaintances!" Grimani
spat back. "And the devil with them all!" He waved a hand
at Julian. "Take him to gaol!"

"Signor
Commissario," murmured Julian, "won't it be a little
awkward explaining to the Director-General of Police that you took
your chief suspect as your ally in this investigation?"

"You
were never my ally! I tolerated you, nothing more!"

"It
may not appear to the Director-General in quite that light. You
might rather let on that you knew all the time I was Orfeo, but,
having perceived I was innocent, you kept me here as a first-hand
witness to Marchese Lodovico's last days."

Grimani
breathed hard through his nostrils. Julian waited. All the while,
he was acutely aware of the marchesa standing in a corner of the
room, just beyond his view. He steeled himself and started to turn
toward her. But Grimani's voice pulled him back.

"Before
I decide anything, I want some questions answered. Why did you run
away on the night of Marchese Lodovico's murder?"