Frail Barrier (16 page)

‘I insist.'

‘I'll make it up to you. You may have your pick of any of my paintings. They're all propped up against the walls of my room. We'll go and see.'

‘That would be nice. But I don't want to show any favorites. I know how sensitive artists can be. Why don't you select one for me?'

‘You're very clever. Agreed. But not right away, if you don't mind. Let me get to know you a little more.'

‘My pleasure. And there should be a good opportunity for that. I've come to extend an invitation from a friend who's giving a party on the Sunday of the regatta. She's English, but she's been living here for a long time. She's the widow of an Italian. You'll receive a formal invitation from her soon.'

‘How marvelous! The regatta!'

‘You'll have an excellent view of most of the events from her palazzo on the Grand Canal.'

‘A palazzo! This sounds better and better! My head was spinning from the heat and disappointment when I met you. Today it's from all my good luck! Or I should call it your kindness – yours and your friend's. What's her name?'

‘Barbara da Capo-Zendrini.'

Croy frowned thoughtfully. It made her face look more sickly.

‘Are you familiar with the name?' Urbino asked.

‘Most unfamiliar! It will take me a while to learn that properly! I don't know much Italian. I hope that won't be a disadvantage at her party.'

‘Almost everyone else who will be there speaks English. I advise you to allow enough time to get there, though. All the canals will be closed from about midday. The Ca' da Capo-Zendrini isn't far from the Palazzo Labia, if you know where that is.'

Croy shook her head.

‘I'm sure she'll include a map with her invitation,' Urbino said, ‘but I'll make a quick one for you now.'

‘Why don't you make it in my sketchbook?'

She bent down and unzipped the top of her backpack. As she was extracting her sketchbook and a pencil, a small dark green bottle fell out on to the stones. The lavender label identified it as one of Perla Beato's products. Croy picked it up quickly and returned it to the backpack.

She found a blank page in the sketchbook. Urbino drew a simple map that showed how Croy could reach the land entrance of the Ca' da Capo-Zendrini and indicated where the palazzo was in relationship to Le Due Sorelle, the Grand Canal, and vaporetto stops. He returned the sketchbook and pencil to Croy.

‘Thank you,' she said. ‘I feel so well taken care of. I think I have enough energy to paint each of those other – how many? – three hundred and ninety-three bridges.'

Urbino doubted this. The more he looked at the woman, the more certain he was that she was ill.

‘I just may stay here through the winter, who knows?'

A sudden gust of wind blew in from the lagoon. Croy clapped her hand down on the crown of her hat, exposing scratches on her upper arm. The skin around them was inflamed.

‘What happened to your arm?'

‘Oh, those.' Croy looked down at the scratches. ‘I'm a cat lover, and there are so many around Venice. I made the mistake of petting the wrong one. The cat scratched at my hat, too, as you can see,' she added, self-consciously, although Urbino had said nothing about its condition and hadn't been scrutinizing it too closely. ‘Then it fell into a puddle.'

‘Well, you can always get a new hat if you want, but you should have the scratches looked at. Let me give you the name of a doctor who speaks English.'

‘Oh, I don't think that's necessary. Don't worry. You're much too kind.'

After stopping for a glass of white wine near the Church of San Zaccaria at a café crowded with
carabinieri
from the nearby post, Urbino went to Clementina Foppa's paper shop. The
cartaio
was finishing with a customer at the counter. Her attendant wasn't in sight.

Clementina gave him a smile that didn't reach her large brown eyes.

‘It's nice to see you in better circumstances,' she said in her heavily accented English when the customer had left.

Urbino glanced over her shoulder at the board behind the counter. The obituary notice was no longer there.

‘I looked for you after the service,' he said. ‘I thought you might like to come to San Michele in the contessa's boat.'

‘I needed to get back here.'

‘It's a busy time of the year.'

‘Not as busy as I need it to be.'

‘Then you'll be happy to know that I'm buying some wrapping paper.' Urbino laughed and said, ‘I'm a big spender today, you see.'

Clementina smiled, but once again her eyes remained sad, even cold.

‘Every little bit helps,' she said.

Urbino went to the rack against the wall where marbled paper was displayed on rolls. He selected three sheets in different versions of the
fiamatto
pattern and five sheets that reproduced details of St. George and the dragon from Carpaccio's cycle of paintings at the Scuola di San Giorgio degli Schiavoni.

‘You have gifts to wrap?' Clementina asked him when he brought the paper over to the counter.

‘At the moment, no, but it seems that whenever I do, I don't have any paper.'

‘Well,
I
never have that problem, you can be sure.'

Her laugh sounded strained.

As she was rolling up the sheets of paper, Urbino asked her how she knew Albina Gonella.

‘It was moving to see how many different people she touched,' he added.

‘What else does life mean in the end? Not all this paper, and the stones outside, lovely though they are!' She waved her hand in the direction of the window, the Calle Lunga, and everything that lay beyond it. ‘I knew her through my brother. He went to Florian's with Zoll. He struck up an acquaintance with her,' Clementina continued, switching into Italian as she put the wrapping paper in a cardboard tube with the name of the shop on it. ‘One time Albina was a great help to him, or I should say to Zoll. He fell ill at Florian's and needed some herb he used to treat himself. He had run out of it. Albina went to get it at an
erboristeria
. Zoll had a lot of faith in herbs. Luca would have gone but Zoll insisted that he stay with him. They called a water taxi for Albina. She was taking a chance, abandoning her post like that.'

‘Do you know what
erboristeria
it was? A friend has one in Dorsoduro.'

‘That's the one. Erboristeria Perla. I know Perla Beato, too. She was at the funeral. Well, I suppose she's more of an acquaintance. Because we're both merchants although I don't think she'd like me to call her that.'

‘You are an artisan,' Urbino said.

Once again Clementina gave him a sad, even brave little smile.

Two women, evidently tourists, entered the shop.

‘Good morning,' she greeted them in English. ‘If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask.' She turned back to Urbino and ran a hand through her feathered haircut.

‘Luca asked me if I knew of a full-time job for Albina. He arranged for us to have coffee together. She was a nice woman, simple – and I mean that in the best sense. Sincere. I asked around to see if anyone needed help, but I had no luck. I have a woman who comes in and cleans up the shop every night, but I couldn't very well let her go and take on Albina, could I?'

Urbino assured her that no one would have expected it. He paid for the wrapping paper and left.

The Erboristeria Perla was a bright, canal-side shop in Dorsoduro between the Zattere and the church where Albina's funeral service had been held. It was in a pleasant area but like the area of Foppa's shop, it was one not well-frequented by tourists.

Everything about the Erboristeria Perla exuded health and good spirits, from the potpourri that scented the air to the verdant plants, the peach-colored walls, the moss-green carpet, all the well-displayed, attractively packaged products, and the marriage of nature sounds and acoustic music playing quietly in the background.

Two walls held wicker baskets of loose herbs and green glass bottles of capsule herbs. Signs and labels, handwritten on the shop's violet paper with its wheat sheaf logo, identified the baskets and bottles. Displayed throughout the large, light-filled space were incense, resins, candles, oils, soaps, salves, balms, honey, health food products, books, videos, music cassettes, posters, and mortars and pestles.

Two polished and poised attendants, who were dressed stylishly but subtly in the trademark violet color of the shop, were standing at strategic points. They greeted Urbino in quiet voices and with reassuring smiles.

From a room in the back Perla came toward him with her long-legged stride. She looked even more svelte in her shop than she looked elsewhere. Its ambiance suited her. She was dressed in a cream-colored cashmere dress with simple lines. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a chignon. The bruise on her left cheek had either completely faded or been more artfully concealed than it had been when he had seen her on the terrace of the Gritti Palace with Oriana Borelli.

‘Urbino dear! It's been too long since you've been here!' she said brightly in English. ‘Is this a social visit or a professional one?'

‘A little of both.'

‘Killing two birds with one stone.'

‘Something like that.'

‘So what do you need help with?'

On the way to the shop Urbino had realized it would be better if he appeared to have come for Perla's services, as he had done with Clementina, since his interest in sleuthing was well-known to the Beatos. It was a form of deception, for a good end. Benevolent deception was the way he thought of it.

Perhaps to compensate for the deception he had decided to expose one of his embarrassments. The contessa was one of the few people who knew about it.

Several years ago he had developed gout in one of his big toes. The pain could be excruciating. The attacks were under control, the result of medication and not the mud and algae that a spa in Abano Terme had smeared all over him. Whenever he felt a twinge in his toe, he took some pills. For a person who enjoyed walking as much as he did and who could surprise even himself with the extent of his hypochondria, his condition was, though minor, an almost constant preoccupation. A severe attack could send him into a minor depression because of his fear that his mobility would soon be a pleasure of the past.

‘From time to time, I get an inflammation in my big toe,' he began.

‘You mean gout, Urbino dear!' Perla said cutting short any further evasiveness. ‘Don't be shy to say it. It's quite common at a certain age. Do you know that it's associated with intelligence?'

‘I doubt that. But if it's true, there have been many times when I wished I were a lot less intelligent!' He named the medication he took. ‘But I thought there might be something homeopathic. I don't care for some of the side effects.'

‘Of course you don't, you poor thing! Who does? And I know how doctors over-medicate! Remember, I've been a nurse. Still
am
a nurse. You're in good hands here. Come with me.'

She led him over to ceiling-high shelves with green-painted wooden ladders beside them. The shelves were lined with green glass bottles. She selected some of the bottles, explaining their contents and how they would help him much better than what he was taking now. Before he knew it, he was dosed with five various herbs. She also gave him a little gift that she said would be beneficial for not only his toe but also his general well-being. It was a jar of chestnut tree honey.

‘I'll write everything down for you,' Perla said.

One of the attendants collected the bottles of herbs and the jar of honey.

‘Why don't I take that for you, too, signore?' the attendant said. He indicated the tube from Clementina Foppa's shop.

Urbino gave it to him.

‘You were at Clementina's, I see,' Perla said. ‘She has a lovely little shop, doesn't she? Thank God we're not in competition in any way. And she has to rely mainly on tourists for her trade.'

‘Actually, it's Clementina who's indirectly responsible for the other bird I want to kill.' He couldn't resist saying this. He hoped that he did it with a straight face. ‘Clementina mentioned that Albina Gonella came here once to pick up some herbs for a German man.'

‘Yes, I remember. About three months ago. But I'm not free to talk about his medical condition if that's what concerns you. I'm sure you understand.'

‘Of course. But I'm sorry to tell you that he died three weeks ago. He was ill beyond any reasonable help, unfortunately, as you probably feared,' he added, in case Perla thought he was casting an aspersion on her form of therapy.

Perla frowned and gave a small sigh.

‘Died? Oh, dear. I was wondering why his Italian friend hadn't come by for more of the herbs. He was the one who usually came for it. The German only had enough for two months. I assumed he had gone back to Germany.'

‘He died here in Venice.' Urbino paused. ‘And by the way, his friend is dead, too.'

Intense astonishment touched her face.

‘Dead? But he was so young. And he looked in the pink of health. I can usually tell if a person is ill.'

‘I'm sure you can, but he wasn't ill. He was killed in a freak accident during the first big storm we had when he was struck on the head with a parapet stone. I know it sounds peculiar, but there you have it. And you know how violent the storm was. It happened only a short time after the German died.'

‘The both of them dead! It's rather incredible.'

‘And do you know that he was Clementina Foppa's brother?' Urbino added.

‘Her brother? But I don't see any resemblance between the two of them at all.'

‘They have different fathers. Actually Luca Benigni – that was his name – and Claudio look more like siblings. They're not, but I just mean that they resemble each other.'