The Venetian Venture (19 page)

It transpired that delightful though Chicago had been, by late October the city had started to turn chilly. That, plus her sudden overwhelming yen to be reunited with Caruso, had prompted Cousin Violet to curtail the visit. (Talking to the hound by telephone was not comparable to feeling its hot doggy breath on knee and cheek.) Naturally she
had
tried to alert Felix but, as so often, the palazzo telephone system had proved uncooperative (the loose door panel being not the only thing requiring attention). The plane had indeed been late but she knew she could rely on her faithful friend Carlo to be at the station awaiting her arrival … And thus here she was, full of delicious memories and mementos – including that spiffing trombone!

‘What trombone?’ Felix had asked dolefully. ‘I don’t see one.’

‘Oh,’ she said carelessly, ‘a little present from Jack Teagarden. It’s still downstairs of course. Carlo is dealing with it and he’s bringing up some of the other stuff too.’ She turned to Rosy: ‘My dear, I don’t know who you are
but you look nice and strong. Would you mind awfully just running down and giving him a hand? It should only take two goes.’

Startled, Rosy did exactly as bid. At least by the time she had struggled with the luggage the returning traveller would have been acquainted with the corpse in her drawing room … She would also know about the fate of her lodger, his body rocking gently under a tarpaulin in
La Speranza
. God what a mess! It was not a homecoming Rosy would have chosen for herself and she didn’t relish witnessing the reaction. Perhaps she could spin out her time with Carlo and the baggage … From far below there came a crash and what sounded like a curse.

As might have been predicted, Violet Hoffman was none too pleased to learn of what had occurred in her absence and even Cedric’s suave sympathy failed to mollify.

‘It is too bad,’ she protested, ‘you have moved the harpsichord. It is so temperamental and now it will have to be retuned – it was only just done before I went away!’ (Cedric rather doubted this, his own trial with it suggesting otherwise.) ‘And why on earth did William Hewson have to choose
my
house to go on his rampage? We didn’t have much in common and I consider it an imposition. Couldn’t you have stopped him, Felix?’ she asked angrily.

‘Not really, I was otherwise engaged,’ he replied bleakly.

‘Or you might say all tied up!’ chortled one of the twins.

Violet shot her a withering look. ‘This is no time for drollery, Duffy. It is a serious matter: I can’t have dead bodies strewn about my premises like this. It simply won’t do!’

‘Actually Violet dear,’ ventured Dilly, ‘there is only one surely. Guy’s is in his boat.’

‘That boat and the landing stage to which it is attached are within the curtilage of my domain,’ was the huffy response. ‘I am responsible.’ She glared around at them; but as her eye fell on the dog her expression softened. ‘Come to Mummy, then,’ she crooned. ‘Has poor Caruso been frightened by a big bad man …’ There followed the usual mutual pawings and fawnings.

Felix took his cue. ‘Oh no,’ he lied, ‘the dog has been as brave as a lion.
So
valiant! He’s a wonderful fellow and we’ve been such good friends, haven’t we old boy?’

The old boy waddled over and gave his friend an obliging lick.

Impressed by the performance Cedric exclaimed, ‘You see! They have a real bond. Felix has been a splendid guardian … And do you know, Miss Hoffman, he has taken Caruso to the flower market
every
day for fresh blooms. The dog loves it!’

‘Really?’ said the owner regarding her cousin with a kindlier eye. ‘Well that’s reassuring at least.’ She glanced around at the plethora of exquisite flower arrangements. ‘Hmm. Yes I can see why you earned the Royal Appointment warrant. Most decorative.’ She nodded approvingly. But then her glance fell on the shape again and she scowled. ‘He really can’t stay here you know: far too unsettling.’

‘Well,’ broke in Dilly and Duffy, ‘that was just what we were saying before you arrived. You see we have a plan which—’

They stopped as Rosy and Carlo appeared in the doorway. Both looked tired, and Carlo was carrying a trombone under one arm. He placed it gravely next to Violet’s chair and then, having been alerted by Rosy, peered uneasily towards the far corner.

‘It won’t bite you,’ Violet said briskly, and gestured to them to sit down. ‘The twins have a plan,’ she announced.

The sisters rose and took centre stage; and in alternating sentences outlined their proposal. This fell into two parts: to detach Guy’s boat from its moorings and let it drift aimlessly whither it chose – preferably into the Grand Canal and thence the lagoon (i.e. well away from the Palazzo Reiss and Violet’s ‘curtilage’); and secondly to weigh down Hewson’s body with bricks, place it in their gondola and punt it into some backwater where it could be surreptitiously sunk.

There was silence as the plan was considered.

‘Who is doing the punting?’ Carlo enquired.

‘Bags I!’ cried Duffy.

‘No dear,’ her sister said gently, ‘I think this particular task requires a degree of care. It would be better if I handled things. Besides I
am
the eldest.’

Duffy sighed. ‘Oh well, if you say so …’

Cedric started to toy with his cigarettes. ‘Oh do smoke if you would like,’ said his hostess graciously. ‘And you could give Carlo one too, he looks a little peaky.’ The latter fell upon the proffered cigarette and started to puff with avid intensity. Rosy had the impression he was a man not currently at ease with the world.

‘But actually,’ she said, ‘as far as Guy is concerned, even if the boat were to stay where it is the body will be found anyway. Suffering a heart attack may be awful but it’s not sinister. Does one really have to set him adrift? What difference would it make if he were discovered here or somewhere else?’

Violet frowned. ‘Because as I have pointed out it is
my
jetty – or at least I rent it. It is virtually outside my front door.
Think of the publicity! And may I remind you that Hewson wasn’t the only murderer in all of this: it was Guy who gunned him down. The police are by nature inquisitive and have a passion for detail. Thus the poor man may have been my lodger but the less one knows or appears to know about him the better. Keep things dark and Guy and his boat at a seemly distance, that’s my answer … which is why I thoroughly endorse the twins’ proposal. Dispose of the pair of them!’

‘Provided one can locate some bricks,’ murmured Carlo.

‘A mere detail.’

‘Not really,’ he persisted. ‘If the body is to sink and to remain submerged for some time I should have thought heavy weights are essential. Wouldn’t you say so?’

Violet conceded the point and addressing Rosy said, ‘Do
you
have any bricks by any chance?’ Rosy said that she hadn’t and felt rather inadequate. ‘Well somebody must have some,’ exclaimed Violet impatiently.

Faces were blank. And then a twin spoke (Duffy, outranked by Dilly in the punting stakes): ‘We don’t need bricks, we have an anchor. It’s in Guy’s boat.’ The suggestion was met with general approval; and she beamed, clearly feeling her status restored.

‘Good. So that’s agreed,’ Violet declared. ‘Time is pushing on: we must get to work.’

‘Uhm … would it be out of the question to have a drink first?’ Cedric enquired. ‘There’s a heavy schedule ahead and I don’t think it wise to commence on an empty stomach, especially given the nature of the task.’ He gave a delicate cough.

It was another suggestion well received and drinks were duly poured. But Carlo politely declined saying it was essential that someone vet
La Speranza
, divest the
body of its tarpaulin and generally check that there were no telltale signs of anyone (i.e. Rosy) having been present at, or just after, the owner’s unfortunate demise. ‘Let us not offer hostages to capricious Fortune,’ he warned them solemnly. Rosy was grateful for such foresight, yet despite the situation couldn’t help being amused by his continuing espousal of such literary English. That sergeant major must have been quite something!

Years later, as an old lady in her eighties and the other participants all dead, Rosy was to look back on that night with a mixture of horror and incredulity. Had she really been there doing
that?
It was ridiculous; and yet the events remained so vividly imprinted in her mind that she knew it to be true. What an outrageous secret – but vaguely risible all the same! She wondered whether the other old ladies in the Home had ever been engaged in such disgraceful shenanigans …

Meanwhile, as a young woman, Rosy joined the others in their fortifying brandies while Carlo slipped from the room.

By the time he returned, the pall-bearers, tanked up and wheezing, had managed to lug their awful burden to the bottom of the stairs.

‘Have you got the anchor?’ gasped Felix.

‘Of course,’ Carlo replied, ‘it’s in my pocket.’

Felix tossed his head. Typical Italian sarcasm!

It was agreed that the best procedure was to get Hewson to the jetty, heave the anchor from Hope-Landers’ boat into the gondola, and then once the body was safely ensconced under the canopy attach the anchor with its chain.

‘An excellent idea,’ said Cedric doubtfully. ‘But perhaps in addition to the anchor it might be sensible to stuff some
cans of beans into his pockets. Extra ballast you know.’

‘Ah,’ Violet said, ‘do you want to go upstairs and fetch them? There’s a few in the larder.’

Cedric looked up at the winding staircase whence they had just come. ‘Not really,’ he replied.

‘If it’s not a silly question,’ Rosy asked, ‘how are we going to get Hewson to the gondola? It’s one thing hauling him down the stairs but carrying him along the towpath might attract attention.’

‘He must walk,’ chimed the twins firmly.

‘
What!
’ she yelped.

‘Oh yes,’ one of them said, ‘that’s what they did with Crown Prince Rudolf – the Mayerling scandal you know. He was supported on either side and manoeuvred to his carriage as if he were drunk. Worked quite well I believe.’

‘Good thinking,’ Violet said. ‘Now who is going to support him?’ She looked at her cousin.

‘I say was that Caruso I heard?’ Felix exclaimed. ‘He probably thinks we have gone and left him. I think I had better just go and see—’

Cedric became strangely diverted by a picture on the wall. He began to examine it closely. Carlo looked down at his feet.

Oh my God, thought Rosy, Violet said I looked strong! She shut her eyes.

‘Oh we’ll do it,’ Dilly volunteered (or Duffy). ‘Fortunately we are blessed with height – and in any case we got so used to shunting Pa about when he was tight that it shouldn’t be too difficult.’

‘Not at all,’ the other agreed. ‘Don’t you remember? He used to become quite corpse-like.’ She gave a fond chuckle.

It would be wrong of course to say that the trio set off at a brisk pace; but the two ladies handled their companion with impressive strength and dexterity. Clearly manoeuvres with Papa had proved an instructive exercise. Slowly and silently he was lurched to the jetty. Felix and Cedric skulked behind them in the shadow of the wall and then helped to heave the burden into the gondola. They thrust him beneath the canopy where he lolled on the cushions like a beached whale, or, as Felix thought, like a sack of giant turnips.

The rearguard were Violet, Rosy and Carlo: the latter pair to grapple with transferring the anchor; and Violet to provide further swigs of sustaining brandy from a flask she had had the foresight to bring. It was an exhausting business and such aid indispensable to its success. That it
was
successful was something that Rosy could never quite fathom: the drink of course, but also surely a blend of luck and desperation.

According to Felix, before they had levered the corpse into the gondola Cedric had murmured something about putting a penny in its mouth. Felix had said he hadn’t a clue what he was talking about and that in any case this was Italy and they didn’t have any pennies. Cedric had smiled and said perhaps a lira would do and had placed a coin in the dead man’s pocket.

Initially Rosy had been as perplexed as Felix but later she learnt the significance. Meanwhile she watched as the redoubtable Dilly, accompanied by her sister and the two men, smoothly punted the gondola into the moonlit canal and thence into the shadows of some darker stream …

Left on the quay Rosy and Violet breathed a sigh of relief. But there was still the matter of Guy Hope-Landers and
La Speranza
. Carlo reached into his pocket and drew out a small packet. He opened the top and threw it down next to the body. A few of the contents spilt out. ‘Heart tablets,’ he explained. ‘It will help the police when they pick him up: reduce the number of questions.’ And then dropping to his knees he untied the rope mooring the dinghy, and grasping the pole lying on the duckboard pushed it gently away from the bank. The current took it immediately, and after moving in a faltering circle it started to drift down the channel towards the southern end of the Grand Canal.

Rosy thought of the great Tennyson poem. ‘Do you think he will be crossing the bar?’ she whispered.

‘Oh I think he has done that already,’ Carlo replied.

They walked back slowly along the towpath to the palazzo – or rather Rosy and Carlo were slow; Violet, eager to get back to Caruso and attend to her unpacking, moved ahead with an energy which Rosy found draining. It was four o’clock in the morning and she had narrowly escaped a knife, been nearly strangled and helped dispose of two dead bodies.

‘You can stay the night if you like,’ Violet had offered. ‘I shall be rather busy myself but I am sure Felix can fix you up all right when he gets back.’ She scanned Rosy’s face. ‘If you don’t mind my saying, you look rather awful. I suggest you tell him to make you some black coffee, it may help. A bit of lipstick wouldn’t come amiss either. Well now, I must get back to my poor boy!’ And giving them both a vague wave she hastened on towards the staircase.