Death in the Palazzo (16 page)

Molly's “gift,” at least insofar as Urbino and the Contessa were concerned, was here demystified. Urbino dismissed the possibility that the list was the result of some bizarre communion with the past, although its unmistakable air of precipitateness might have been seen by someone more credulous as proof of just that.

But if one mystery seemed to have been solved, another more disturbing and puzzling one had taken its place: Where had Molly gotten her information from? And had this also been the source of what she seemed to have known about the history of the Ca' da Capo-Zendrini?

Although most of the information about himself and the Contessa was in no way confidential, and was in fact a matter of public record, he couldn't believe that Molly had industriously gathered it all by herself by using the skills of a researcher.

The inclusion of the story of his parents' death was the most strange. It was something he kept close to himself, sharing it with few people. But Molly had been in possession of it. Urbino suspected that she had heard it, along with the other details about himself and the Contessa, from someone now at the Ca' da Capo-Zendrini.

But from whom? The only ones at the house party who knew all these things, other than himself and the Contessa, of course, were Oriana and Filippo. Could there be some hidden link between them and Molly?

These speculations led him to consider the possible sources of the other things that Molly had said which had apparently disturbed some of the guests. A vague understanding of what he believed was called Occam's Razor surfaced to support his hunch that Molly's information was all of one piece. There was most likely one—and only one—source for everything she had known about the Contessa, himself, and the other guests at the Ca' da Capo. There was probably an evident fallacy in this, but he nonetheless remained convinced of its truth.

Urbino refolded the two sheets, returned them to the lap desk, and opened the checkbook. It was all that remained to be examined. There were about a dozen stubs. The first stub was dated the last week of October. The neatness and organization evident in Molly's address book were also displayed in the checkbook. Each stub was neatly and carefully recorded.

Checks had been written out to Molly's Harrods account, several charge cards, Thomasina Wybrow (Urbino remembered her name from the address book), Molly's landlord for the November rent, the National Gas Board, and British Telephone for over two hundred pounds. Several were made out to “Cash.” These latter were for very large sums, although they hadn't noticeably diminished the unusually large checking balance.

The last entry, however, had come close to wiping out the balance. It was made out to Sebastian Neville.

Urbino barely had time to begin to consider the possible implications of this when a piercing scream sounded above the noise of the storm.

9

When Urbino went into the hall, Viola and Robert had already emerged from their rooms. Vasco had his door open and was looking out.

Shouts came from the first floor, where the sweep of marble steps stopped before making their even broader descent to the
pianoterreno
. Urbino, Viola, and Robert went to the top of the stairway, where Oriana and Filippo were peering-down at the floor below. Bambina emerged from her room and joined the small group.

“My God, what is it now?” Oriana said.

Vasco joined them with a troubled look on his thin, lined face and followed the group down to the floor below. There they found Sebastian and Lucia with several other members of the staff gathered in a circle. Urbino slipped between Sebastian and Lucia.

Lying on the floor on her back was Gemma in her bathrobe. Her eyes were closed.

“Vasco!” Urbino called, but the doctor was already at his side and quickly determined that Gemma was alive, but unconscious.

“Mother!” Robert cried, kneeling down beside her.

Vasco loosened Gemma's robe and the high neck of her nightdress. Carefully, he checked for broken bones and said there didn't seem to be any. Neither was there any sign of blood from the head injury, but in Italian Vasco mumbled something about internal bleeding.

With surprising rapidity Bambina had fetched a glass of water.

“Give this to her,” she said.

“You know better than that!” Vasco shouted.

In the violence of his reaction he flung out his hand and knocked the glass of water from Bambina's grasp. It shattered against the wall. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours her offer of water to her niece had met with a rebuff. She looked down at Gemma and a tick came and went several times in the corner of one eye.

“What's going on?” It was the Contessa, coming down from the floor above. “My God! Gemma! What's happened?”

“She fell down the stairs,” Sebastian said.

“How do you know that?” his sister challenged.

He stared at her with irritation for a few beats before he said, “It's obvious.”

“What was she doing up?” the Contessa asked. Before anyone might answer, she said to Vasco, “How is she?”

“She's unconscious. She hit her head when she—she fell down the stairs.”

“We can't leave her here,” the Contessa said. “Carry her back to her room.”

Urbino, Robert, and Sebastian, under Vasco's direction and with the Contessa leading the way, carried Gemma carefully up to her room. The bedclothes were already thrown back and they laid her on the bed.

Viola, Bambina, and Oriana had followed. “My poor niece!” Bambina said. She rushed to the bed and almost threw herself against Gemma, putting her arms around her in an overwrought display of concern.

“Get away from her!” Vasco shouted.

Urbino remembered Vasco's behavior yesterday in the conservatory when Bambina had offered Gemma some water and then again earlier today when he'd knocked the glass of water she had brought for Gemma out of her hand. Vasco now reached out his hand to pull Bambina physically away from her niece, but Bambina withdrew, her ample bosom rising and falling rapidly.

Vasco, trying to control himself, said that under no circumstances should Gemma be left alone.

“I'll stay with her,” said Robert, who seemed oblivious to everything except his mother.

“We'll take turns,” the Contessa said. “Let's hope this storm will be over soon and we can get her to hospital. God! Listen to it!”

It was now thundering.

“Maybe not all the telephones are out,” Viola suggested. “Is there any way to signal to a neighbor?”

“A neighbor?” the Contessa repeated, as if Viola had mentioned something exotic.

“It's a good idea,” Urbino said. “Maybe I can call from one of the windows or go across the
calle.
”

“Everyone must be in the same position we are. And no one's boat would be able to go out in this storm. Our only hope is that it's over soon.”

“But we should at least see if someone else's phone is working,” Urbino insisted, realizing that the Contessa wasn't thinking clearly. “The hospital could surely get an ambulance here.”

“The hospital?” Robert said. “Where is it?”

“In the Castello behind Piazza San Marco,” the Contessa said.

“But you're forgetting the private hospital near the Madonna dell' Orto,” Urbino said. “It's closer.”

“I'll go there,” Robert said. “Give me directions.”

“That's impossible!” the Contessa said. “You'd never find your way in this storm. Just let Urbino see if the telephone is working across the way.”

“She's my mother!” Robert shouted.

“Come. Let's go outside and let Luigi look after her while we discuss this.”

“There's nothing to discuss,” Robert said.

“Listen to Barbara,” Vasco said. “Go outside. All of you. I'll watch over her.”

“Be sure you do!” Robert said.

“I always have, Robert, long before you came along. She's still a defenseless little girl to me.”

Robert had a dubious look on his good-looking face, but he relented and went out into the hall with the Contessa. Urbino, feeling impelled by Vasco's look of irritation and impatience, followed, as did Sebastian and the three women.

“Barbara's right about the hospital, Robert,” Urbino said. “You would get lost in a few minutes. You would have no idea of an alternate route when you reached a flooded area.”

“I'd go right through the water. I'd get there! I'm not an idiot!” And once again he said, this time with desperation, “She's my mother!”

Angelica, looking anxious, now joined them.

“Has something happened to Gemma?” she asked.

“She fell down the stairs,” Robert said. “She's unconscious. I'm going to get help at the hospital.”

“I'll go,” Urbino said. “I have a better chance of getting there, and you should be here with your mother.”

It seemed the inevitable solution. The look on the Contessa's face, however—a look that spoke of fear and abandonment—momentarily checked him. It was with considerable relief that he heard Filippo's voice say:

“I insist on going. I know Venice even better than you do. And Barbara needs you here.”

“Don't leave me, Filippo,” Oriana wailed. “It's just like that movie! One by one, we'll all be—be snatched away. First Molly, now Gemma! Someone else will be next!”

“Don't get hysterical,” her husband said.

“You're not thinking of Gemma! You're not thinking of me! You're just thinking of the Ca' Borelli! You'll forget about us all! I—I hope it gets swept into the Adriatic!”

“It has your jewelry, wardrobe, and love letters, dear, you had better reconsider!”

Filippo went into their room next door and came back a few minutes later wearing his trenchcoat.

“I'll need a pullover cap and some boots.”

“Mauro will fit you up,” the Contessa said. “Please be careful.”

“Don't worry about him!” Oriana shrieked. “He can't wait to escape. Can't you see it?”

Filippo shook his head silently and went downstairs.

“Oriana,” the Contessa said in a controlled voice, “I think it would be best if you went to your room. Maybe Luigi can give you something for your nerves.”

Oriana stared at her without speaking for several seconds.

“I
will
go to my room,” she said with a lift of her well-tended-to chin. “And I'll lock the door and stay there until this nightmare is over!”

She swept down the hall into her room and slammed the door.

10

It was only now that Mamma Zeno opened her door. Her room was next to Gemma's. Several hours earlier she had vehemently proclaimed Molly's death an act of God. Now, with her own granddaughter lying unconscious and perhaps close to death herself, she might not find solace in the same sentiment.

“Is something the matter?” Her voice sounded tired. “I fell asleep. The wind … rain …” Her voice faded out for a few moments, then came back clearly and distinctly: “I heard voices in my dream. Shouts. I realized they came from out here.”

She looked more than ever as if she were on the point of disappearing into the voluminous folds of her clothes.

“It's Gemma,” the Contessa said. “She seems to have fallen down the stairs. She's unconscious. Luigi is looking after her.”

“Let me go to her.” She moved toward Gemma's door. The small group made way for her. “Robert, why are you standing here? Come with me.”

“Dr. Vasco said to leave him alone with Mother.”

“He did? I'll see about that.”

Her obvious weakness didn't prevent her from walking toward her granddaughter's room with an air of command that boded little good for the Zeno family physician. The Contessa put a gentle arresting hand on her shoulder.

“Why don't we all gather down in the library for a few minutes, if you don't mind,” Urbino said.

The Contessa, guiding Mamma Zeno, led the rather solemn processional down the staircase to the library. As if under a general agreement to remain silent, they quickly disposed themselves in various chairs and sofas—with the exception of Sebastian, who preferred to lounge near the liquor cabinet, glass in hand, and Urbino himself, who stood on the carpet in the middle of the room.

Urbino felt vaguely uncomfortable as the others stared back at him with what he felt were varying degrees of resentment, nervousness, and puzzlement. He told himself that he had better start getting accustomed to discomfort. It was only going to get worse from this moment on.

“In what can't be much more than twelve hours we've had what seem to be two accidents here,” Urbino began. “And—”

“Seem to be!” repeated Bambina. She immediately clapped a hand over her mouth and stared at Urbino, then at the others.

“Yes, seem to be,” Urbino said. “You know about Molly. Now there's Gemma and her apparent fall down the stairs. Did anyone see her fall?”

“Why ask us about Gemma first?” Viola said. “If you're going to do things right, you should begin with Molly. I thought you had experience with these things,” she added with an attempt at affectionate mockery.

“We'll get around to Molly,” Urbino responded more sharply than he intended. Viola's smile disappeared.

“That'll put you in your place, Viola,” her brother said. “Do you mind if we have a drink, Mr. Sleuth?”

“Go right ahead,” the Contessa said before Urbino could answer. It was as if she were making an attempt to remind them—Urbino perhaps most of all—that she was still in charge of the revels, no matter what bizarre form they were taking. “But please don't smoke!” she added as a further assertion of authority.

“A drink will be sufficient unto the moment.” Sebastian poured himself a whiskey. His hand shook slightly. “Can I do the honors for anyone else?”

No one chose to join him. Urbino continued.