scandal? I confess I’m disappointed in you, Signor Amato. I’m also getting tired of answering questions about that silly little wager. It was not nearly so important as people want to make out.”
“This isn’t an idle visit. I have a pressing interest in Zulietta’s murder, and I think you can help me if you will.”
She narrowed her eyes and took another generous draft of wine. “Go on.”
“Did you realize that Zulietta was on the verge of winning your wager?”
“I judged it couldn’t be too long. Zulietta and I met on the field of combat, and the better woman prevailed. I would reproach myself except that the affair took a turn I could hardly have expected.”
“What’s that?”
“I launched into the contest as an amusement, a mere dalliance. But Zulietta fell in love. She actually lost her heart to Alessio Pino, and that great child gave every sign of being equally besotted.”
“Love often flares up quickly and just as quickly fades,” I observed.
“Not for that pair. They saw no one but each other and parted with the greatest difficulty. When last we met, Zulietta assured me Alessio was determined to have her as his wife.”
“If she meant to marry him, why didn’t she call off the wager?”
La Samsona took up her fan, unfurled it, and cooled her cheeks languidly. I couldn’t help but notice that this courtesan’s fan was painted with a perfectly respectable hunting scene. Or was it? Were the men on horses chasing a stag or an unclad nymph? Difficult to tell in the dimness.
“I don’t know, but she didn’t. Our pact was signed and sealed and very much in force.” The fan halted for the space of a heartbeat. “Perhaps Zulietta wanted to offer my jewels to Alessio as her dowry. Can you imagine? A Hebrew who had been on the town for years and a glassmaker of Alessio’s standing, practically royalty in that little world of Murano? Such a match is unheard of, impossible, but my friend—yes, I counted Zulietta as a friend—believed that true love could triumph over all. You’d think she would have learned by now. Poor thing—I would never have begrudged her a few baubles if the affair could bring her happiness.”
“That’s very generous.” I gave her rings a pointed look, then the rope of pearls around her neck. “And hard to believe. The jewels you’re wearing tonight must be worth a fortune. I can only imagine what you must have at home.”
She snapped the fan shut and drew it through her hand several times. If I chose to consider this gesture a silent message in the fashionable language of the fan, La Samsona was ordering me to withdraw. But I stayed where I was; this woman was not one to hold her tongue and let her fan do the talking. She confirmed my impression by throwing her head back and laughing with a donkey’s bray. She continued on a chuckle, “We have only a slight acquaintance, Signor Amato, so I’ll forgive you for thinking I’m a fool. The wager specifically entitled Zulietta to the jewels on my person and in the casket in my bedchamber. When I saw how the wind was blowing, I took steps…”
Tossing her fan on the table, La Samsona rose and went to open the door. She summoned the footman who had retreated to the corridor.
“More wine, mistress?”
“No, Lelio.” She favored him with a doting smile. “I want you to tell Signor Amato where I sent you Thursday last.”
Without missing a beat, he faced me and replied, “The Banco Giro, Signore.”
“And what was the burden you carried?” At his hesitation, she encouraged, “It’s all right. Just answer the question.”
“A lockbox containing your very best jewels.”
“Tell him what they did with the box.”
“The director of the bank took charge of it himself. He locked it in their vault.”
“Thank you, Lelio. You may withdraw.”
She swept back and seated herself with a whisper of lilac skirts. Reclaiming her fan, she asked, “Does that satisfy you? Or do you still think I murdered
“This isn’t an idle visit. I have a pressing interest in Zulietta’s murder, and I think you can help me if you will.”
She narrowed her eyes and took another generous draft of wine. “Go on.”
“Did you realize that Zulietta was on the verge of winning your wager?”
“I judged it couldn’t be too long. Zulietta and I met on the field of combat, and the better woman prevailed. I would reproach myself except that the affair took a turn I could hardly have expected.”
“What’s that?”
“I launched into the contest as an amusement, a mere dalliance. But Zulietta fell in love. She actually lost her heart to Alessio Pino, and that great child gave every sign of being equally besotted.”
“Love often flares up quickly and just as quickly fades,” I observed.
“Not for that pair. They saw no one but each other and parted with the greatest difficulty. When last we met, Zulietta assured me Alessio was determined to have her as his wife.”
“If she meant to marry him, why didn’t she call off the wager?”
La Samsona took up her fan, unfurled it, and cooled her cheeks languidly. I couldn’t help but notice that this courtesan’s fan was painted with a perfectly respectable hunting scene. Or was it? Were the men on horses chasing a stag or an unclad nymph? Difficult to tell in the dimness.
“I don’t know, but she didn’t. Our pact was signed and sealed and very much in force.” The fan halted for the space of a heartbeat. “Perhaps Zulietta wanted to offer my jewels to Alessio as her dowry. Can you imagine? A Hebrew who had been on the town for years and a glassmaker of Alessio’s standing, practically royalty in that little world of Murano? Such a match is unheard of, impossible, but my friend—yes, I counted Zulietta as a friend—believed that true love could triumph over all. You’d think she would have learned by now. Poor thing—I would never have begrudged her a few baubles if the affair could bring her happiness.”
“That’s very generous.” I gave her rings a pointed look, then the rope of pearls around her neck. “And hard to believe. The jewels you’re wearing tonight must be worth a fortune. I can only imagine what you must have at home.”
She snapped the fan shut and drew it through her hand several times. If I chose to consider this gesture a silent message in the fashionable language of the fan, La Samsona was ordering me to withdraw. But I stayed where I was; this woman was not one to hold her tongue and let her fan do the talking. She confirmed my impression by throwing her head back and laughing with a donkey’s bray. She continued on a chuckle, “We have only a slight acquaintance, Signor Amato, so I’ll forgive you for thinking I’m a fool. The wager specifically entitled Zulietta to the jewels on my person and in the casket in my bedchamber. When I saw how the wind was blowing, I took steps…”
Tossing her fan on the table, La Samsona rose and went to open the door. She summoned the footman who had retreated to the corridor.
“More wine, mistress?”
“No, Lelio.” She favored him with a doting smile. “I want you to tell Signor Amato where I sent you Thursday last.”
Without missing a beat, he faced me and replied, “The Banco Giro, Signore.”
“And what was the burden you carried?” At his hesitation, she encouraged, “It’s all right. Just answer the question.”
“A lockbox containing your very best jewels.”
“Tell him what they did with the box.”
“The director of the bank took charge of it himself. He locked it in their vault.”
“Thank you, Lelio. You may withdraw.”
She swept back and seated herself with a whisper of lilac skirts. Reclaiming her fan, she asked, “Does that satisfy you? Or do you still think I murdered
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