By now, Benito was relaxed enough to give an honest answer. "Hey, she's nice. I don't think she really knew any more than I did."
"Guess not," agreed Maria.
Benito was even relaxed enough to be smart instead of street-savvy stupid. "Show me, then. Please."
"Good boy," gurgled Maria happily, and proceeded to do so. Some time later, as she cried out with pleasure--much louder than she had before--Benito whispered the words again. Moaned them, rather, since he was awash in his own ecstasy.
Maria slapped the back of his head, sure enough. But, that done, the same hand which slapped began to caress and clutch. And stroked him, softly and steadily, as they lay in each others' arms afterward, pooled in their own moisture.
"That stinking bastard Aldanto was good for something," Maria whispered. "I give it to you as a gift."
"I love you," he whispered back.
She didn't slap him, this time. But her hand came up and closed his mouth. "Don't, Benito. Please. Tonight is too special, for both of us. Just let it be what it is, that's all."
He never spoke the words again that night, even though it lasted almost until dawn. Before he finally fell asleep, not long after Maria, he raised himself on one elbow and gazed down upon her nude body lying next to him. He had never seen anything so beautiful in his life, and knew that he never would. Fifteen years old be damned. Some things are certain.
Still, he didn't say the words, even though she was no longer awake to rebuke him. In some obscure way, he couldn't.
He puzzled at the problem, for a bit. Just as he drifted into slumber, it came to him. He could never steal anything from Maria, he realized. Not even words of love.
Chapter 78 ==========
"We have the dagger. It's a Ferrara-steel blade with scarlet and blue tassels," said Retired Admiral Dourso, one of Petro's fellow Signori di Notte. "We have the witnesses--one who saw him lurking in the alley, and two who heard him utter angry threats at the bishop. You were there. It was the night he was arrested in that affray with the Knights and Servants of the Trinity."
Petro Dorma took a deep breath. "Bishop Capuletti was killed at about midnight?"
The admiral nodded. "The body was still warm when it was found, just before midnight. The clothes were barely wet. I'm sorry, Petro. I must take Marco Valdosta into custody."
Petro shook his head at his older colleague. "Admiral, I haven't had much sleep. I must tell you that some hours after midnight, I became an uncle."
It took the salt-and-pepper-haired admiral a few moments to work this out. "Valdosta's child?"
Petro thought the little girl looked very like its father. But that was another matter for later. "My sister, Angelina, has had a daughter, yes. The child is rather premature."
"Congratulations, Petro, but . . ."
"The birth was attended by the Doctor Rigannio, a midwife, my mother, Countess Marangoni--and Marco Valdosta. He assisted as he is learning to be a doctor. Angelina went into labor just before midnight, at the soiree at the Casa Antorini. Which, as you know, is near the Oratio del Cruciferi."
Petro walked over to the sideboard and poured each of them a glass of Vin Santo. He handed the admiral one of the Venetian-ware glasses. "So. Unless you wish to accuse my ward of witchcraft and having a doppelganger, I suggest you look elsewhere for a murderer. The time and distances traveled make it unlikely. The witnesses who actually saw him help with Angelina make it impossible."
When the admiral had left, Petro sat with his head in his hands. Someone had set out to deliberately incriminate Marco. It was pure luck that he had a cast-iron alibi. This was plainly an attack on Dorma. Somehow the deliberations of Council of Ten must have leaked. This lot was bad enough . . . without that Angelina had spent half her labor demanding that Caesare Aldanto be brought to her, and already this morning had summoned him to her bedside to demand the same.
* * *
An hour later the admiral was back. "Not Marco Valdosta. His brother."
* * *
Benito was struggling to wake up. Having his room at Dorma--which he'd been back in for less than two hours--invaded by Petro, another Signor di Notte, and two Schiopettieri was something of a shock.
It was even more of a shock when they wanted to know where the hell he'd been last night.
They didn't find his refusal to answer at all satisfactory.
"Benito Valdosta. I must ask you to dress and come with us," said the salt-and-pepper-haired ex-admiral turned Signor di Notte. "You will be charged with the murder of Bishop Pietro Capuletti."
* * *
"Ha!" Kat's grandfather came into the breakfast salon, where Kat was picking at a bowl of frumenty. "I told you, girl! Blood will out! They've arrested that damned Valdosta boy for murder!"
Kat's chair went flying. The fragile bowl was dropped, shattering on the fine intarsia floor as she leapt to her feet. She felt blood drain from her face. "What?"
The old man rubbed his hands in glee, ignoring the destruction. "That Valdosta-pig. I went to see Dourso this morning. Just checking things out for you, girl. And he was just on his way to arrest Marco Valdosta. For the murder of Bishop Pietro Capuletti. Ha!"
"Did you do this?" she demanded furiously. "Did you engineer this, Grandpapa?"
Lodovico Montescue shook his leonine old head. "I wish it were my doing. But they'll have his head, anyway," he said with great satisfaction.
Kat stared at him. "He wasn't even born when you had your stupid fight! You crazy old man! He doesn't even know who you are!" She stormed out.
"Katerina! Where are you going?" He hurried after her as fast as his old legs could manage.
Over her shoulder, Kat snapped: "To hand myself over to the justices at the Doge's palazzo, for murdering Bishop Capuletti."
"Stop, Katerina! You can't do tha--" His voice was cut off by the great front door closing. A passing gondolier answered her hail. And Kat, in a turmoil of emotion, set off to rescue Marco.
* * *
Marco Valdosta stared incredulously at his brother-in-law. "You just let them take him away?"
Petro threw up his hands helplessly. "He has witnesses. A Ferrara-made knife with house tassels. I'll swear it's not Benito's. But it looks bad. And then your brother refuses to say where he was last night."
Marco steepled his long slim fingers. "Ten to one he'll have been doing something for Caesare Aldanto. Probably with Maria."
Dorma leaned forward. "Who is this Maria?"
There was no sense in pulling punches. "She's a canal-girl--the one who was abducted by the Dandelos. She lives with Caesare Aldanto. He's worth asking about this. If anyone will help Benito, it's him."
"I'll have some of my people go out and fetch him." He stopped Marco's reply. "You will stay right here, Marco. Under my eye. You'll accompany me to hear the galliot captain address the Senate at midday. You will be seen. This is intended as an attack on Dorma. I wish I knew by whom."
Marco shook his head. "The knife is too obvious, Petro. Why would he leave it behind?"