The Devil in Music (62 page)

"I
chose the belvedere as the place of rendezvous. I was familiar with
the villa and its gardens. Lodovico once brought me there to sing at
a fete champetre. As Signor Kestrel was quick to observe"
Valeriano bowed in Julian's direction "I went riding on the
night before the murder and again on the night it occurred. The
first time, I left the package containing the note and glove at the
castle. The second time, I went to the belvedere."

Valeriano's
voice dropped. He gazed into the distance as if he could see it all
unfolding again before him. "I arrived at about midnight and
tethered my horse outside the villa gate. It was unlocked, and I
went in. I walked along the shore path to the belvedere. There were
one or two boats on the lake, but no lights on the shore to reveal my
presence to them. I had brought a lantern with me, but I shuttered
it and felt my way in the dark. When I reached the belvedere"
he paused, drew breath, and went on "my father was waiting. I
gave him no chance to ask questions or tempt me to break my oath and
throw our kinship in his face. Perhaps he guessed in his last
moments who I was and why he had to die. But I kept the letter of my
promise.

"He
lay stretched out at my feet with his head toward the balcony on the
lake and his arms flung out. I'd shot him at such close range that
the bullet had left a great, powder-blackened hole in his breast."

Julian
asked, "What did you use for a wad?"

Valeriano
came out of his trance with a start. "I can't remember. What
does it matter?"

"The
wad was found in the wound, Signer Valeriano."

Valeriano
looked shaken. "I can't tell you what it was. When you load a
gun, you use any rag or scrap of paper that comes to hand."

"It
was a piece of paper ruled with musical staffs," said Grimani
shortly. "There's nothing remarkable in that. You're a singer
you must have had plenty of that sort of paper ready-to-hand."

"Yes,"
said Valeriano. "Of course I did."

"Go
on with your story," said Grimani.

"I
had one thing left to do," Valeriano continued. "I went
through Lodovico's pockets on the chance he had brought my note and
my mother's glove to the rendezvous. I thought it unlikely anyone
would ever connect them with me, but I would have liked to retrieve
them if I could. I found his watch and his pocketbook and a loaded
pistol, but I didn't find the note and glove, and I couldn't risk
searching inside the villa. So I went home. Marchesa Francesca was
worried about me and had rashly gone out searching in the dark.
Otherwise, nothing untoward occurred, and I've kept my secret to this
day."

Carlo
crossed himself, his eyes blank with shock. Beatrice looked at
Valeriano with loathing. Francesca rocked back and forth, moaning
softly. De la Marque stood strangely at his ease, his shoulders
propped against the wall, his gaze interested, detached. In a corner
of the room, Fletcher, who had been straining to follow Valeriano's
Venetian-accented Milanese, was explaining in whispers to a
bewildered St. Carr what it was all about. Julian looked away from
Valeriano long

enough
to take in all their reactions, then fastened his eyes once more on
the self-confessed patricide.

"All
right," said Grimani. "Now tell us about Marchese
Rinaldo."

Valeriano
inclined his head. "For a long time, it was enough for me to
humiliate Rinaldo. I wouldn't have killed him but for the final
indignities he inflicted on me before you all."

"In
fact," put in Julian, "at one time you risked your own life
rather than harm him."

"Ah."
Valeriano was silent for a moment. "You're speaking of the
duel."

"Yes.
The duel in which you braved his fire twice, and fired into the air
yourself."

"There
was no heroism in that, Signer Kestrel. Rinaldo was terrified
shaking like a leaf. He was almost certain to miss me. And I knew
that any wound I could give him with a pistol would be trivial
compared with the shame of being defeated by a eunuch who didn't even
return his shot.

"So
the score was settled between us: I had his wife and had trampled on
his honour; he had my rightful name and patrimony. It was he who
upset the balance. He took Marchesa Francesca back, and in the
process insulted me in a manner no gentleman could have borne, and
even a castrate was bound to avenge."

"You
chose to relinquish Marchesa Francesca," Julian reminded him.

"Yes,"
said Valeriano, "when I saw she would have left me for her
children in the end. I thought: If we must part, let it be by my
act. Rinaldo shall never say it was he who dealt the final blow."

"Were
you merely playacting when you tore yourself away from her when you
called her your one and only love?"

Valeriano
lifted his eyes with a faint air of exasperation. "I'm a
singer, Signer Kestrel. The lover parted from his beloved is a
staple of the repertoire almost the first thing one learns."

Julian
recalled the first time Valeriano had sung for the villa party. I go,
I go, but you, my love, make peace with me .. .

"After
I parted from Marchesa Francesca," Valeriano went on, "I
hung about the neighbourhood, hoping for a chance to strike at
Rinaldo. I came to the villa last night with that in mind."

"How
did you get through the gate?" Julian asked.

"I
didn't use the gate. I walked along the shingle beneath the
embankment and climbed up into the garden. I stood beneath Rinaldo's

window,
wondering if there were any way I could get inside. Suddenly
incredibly, I saw someone come out and climb over the balcony
railing, then edge along the ledge to the other balcony and climb
down to the south terrace wall. By that time, I could make out her
shape well enough to see, first, that it was a woman, then that it
was Francesca.

"I
hid among the trees until she had come down from the wall and gone
away. All the while I was thinking: if she could come down by that
means, I could go up. I ascended to the walkway at the top of the
wall and pulled myself up to the balcony that would be yours, Signor
Commissario. I sidled along the ledge as I had seen Francesca do and
climbed into Rinaldo's balcony."

"What
time was this?" asked Julian.

"I
didn't look at my watch. It was between midnight and dawn that's the
best I can say. When I reached the balcony, I looked through the
French doors and saw Rinaldo lying face up in bed, asleep."

"So
there was a light in the room," said Julian interested.

"There
was no light in the room. I had brought a small dark lantern with
me."

"You
climbed up the side of the villa with a lantern?"

"I
hung it on one of my braces. May I continue?"

Julian
bowed.

"I
took off my boots," said Valeriano, "in order to move about
the room silently and without leaving muddy footprints. I left them
on the balcony and came in through the French doors. I started to
approach Rinaldo with the lantern in my hand, but it made a clanking
sound, and I was afraid it might wake him. So I opened it and took
out the candle and continued toward the bed with that."

Julian
and Grimani exchanged glances. Then a grim smile settled on
Grimani's lips. The drop of wax on Rinaldo's sheet was explained at
last.

"Rinaldo's
dressing-case was on the table," Valeriano went on. "I
found his razor, and used it to slit his throat."

Julian
asked curiously, "How were you proposing to kill him if there
hadn't been a razor ready-to-hand?"

"I
had a knife with me."

"Then
why go out of your way to use his razor?" Grimani challenged
him.

"There's
nothing strange in that, Signor Commissario. I have waited all my
life for an opportunity to use a razor."

Even
Grimani seemed a little nonplussed. "Go on," he said at
last.

"There's
little more to tell. After Rinaldo was dead, I saw the key on the
chain around his neck. I understood it all at a glance: he'd locked
himself and Francesca into the room, which was why Francesca had had
to leave by the balcony. I used the key to let myself out and escape
through the house instead of hazarding the balcony again. I
preferred being caught alert and conscious in the villa to being
found in the garden with broken limbs."

"But
didn't you realize Marchesa Francesca would be likely to be blamed
for your crime?" asked Julian.

"It
never occurred to me. But if I wronged her, I've made it up to her
now by absolving her."

"You
could never make up for what you've done to me!" Francesca came
shakily to her feet. "I climbed down from the balcony last
night because Rinaldo had used me worse than a slave or a woman of
the streets. He had mocked and degraded and raped me. I tell you, I
would rather have last night back, and a hundred such nights, than
this horror of knowing I was nothing to you! What are you, that you
could do this to me? What are you?"

He
said in a low voice, "I am what God and Lodovico Malvezzi made
of me."

Grimani
turned to Zanetti. "Prepare a written statement for him to
sign. Then take it to Solaggio and have Ruga draw up a warrant for
his arrest."

"Yes,
Signer Commissario. What's to be done with him in the meantime?"

"Lock
him in one of the rooms," said Grimani, "and have the
gendarmes stand guard at the door."

"You
could use the billiard room," Carlo suggested bleakly. "It's
at the back of the house, out of everyone's way."

"All
right." Grimani turned to the gendarmes flanking Valeriano.
"See that he remains there, and that no one holds any
communication with him. And remove anything he might use as a weapon
against himself." Grimani smiled with cold satisfaction. "I
won't have the gallows cheated of its prey."

After
the gendarmes had taken Valeriano away, Francesca abandoned herself
to wild, keening grief. MacGregor bathed her temples in vinegar and
water and ordered a soothing infusion of herbs for her to drink.
Beatrice sent a servant to fetch Don Cristoforo to pray with her.
Julian, rather to his own surprise, sat down beside her and gathered
her into his arms. She clung to him and soaked his shoulder with
weeping. He thought that, in her misery, she probably had very
little idea who he was.

When
sheer exhaustion had calmed her a little, MacGregor helped her to her
room. Beatrice promised to follow and sit with her till she fell
asleep. When they had gone, she turned to Grimani, her eyes bright
and bitter. "I congratulate you, Signer Commissario. You've
found your murderer and without even having to lift a finger."

"It's
a satisfactory solution," Grimani said shortly. "Signer
Valeriano's story that Marchese Lodovico was his father will have to
be verified. But the rest of his confession verifies itself. He
knows details about Marchese Lodovico's murder that were never made
public the position of his body after he was killed, the search of
his pockets, and the loaded gun in one of them."

Grimani
had every reason to be pleased with himself, Julian thought. He had
solved Rinaldo's murder on the very day it was discovered. What was
more, his superiors would find the culprit highly acceptable. It
would have offended the aristocratic principles of Austrian Milan to
arrest a member of the Malvezzi family. Valeriano, a Venetian
singer's bastard, gave rise to no such squeamishness. Yet Julian
perceived that Grimani was not quite satisfied. How could he

be?
The investigation was over, and Orfeo was still unidentified and
free.

"What
do you make of his confession, Signer Kestrel?" Beatrice asked.

"If
all he said is true, I can easily believe he hated Marchese Lodovico
enough to kill him. It's Marchese Lodovico's role I find
incongruous." Julian turned to Carlo. "Would you say it
was like your brother to inveigle a woman into a mock marriage?"

"No,"
said Carlo slowly, "I wouldn't. He didn't accomplish things by
stealth certainly not by deception. He considered it his privilege
as Marchese Malvezzi to speak his mind and direct the opinions of
others. He was honest, not out of religious or moral principle, but
because he felt he owed it to himself to be."