"No. By then they had convinced themselves of his guilt."
"You are certain that your son refused to tell the inquisitors the name of the witness who could give him an alibi? It was not that he did name her and she contradicted his story out of fear of her husband's wrath?"
"No. I begged him to tell them, but he insisted he never would."
That was the end of that path. Was she lying to me? Had Zorzi lied to her? Had the boy's mistress lied to the Three? I was no nearer knowing why some maniac was going around murdering courtesans.
"Still more questions, messer Zeno? I find this conversation wearying and unnecessary. I engaged Maestro Nostradamus to clear my son's name, not to inflict you and your eternal questioning upon myself."
"Just one more, madonna, undoubtedly a painful one for you. When did you last see Zorzi?"
She sniffed as if I had committed a social gaffe. "The day of my husband's funeral. We had no sooner returned to the house than he changed out of mourning and appeared in his usual finery. No long months of mourning for him, he said; he had paid his respects, and anything more would be hypocrisy."
"Did he hint that he was heading to the mainland?"
"No. No, he certainly did not. He told me he had found the archangel of all courtesans, Venus in the flesh, and he was going off to, um, visit with her and see if she was as good as her reputation." Donna Alina's face hardened. "It must have been she who warned him that the Ten were going to arrest him."
"I think not, madonna. I have spoken to the woman, and she claims that she was expecting him but he never arrived."
"Indeed?" She raised her painted brows, corrugating her forehead. "And what is the name of this paramount beauty?"
"That I may not reveal. I am much indebted to you for your help." I rose to take my leave. "My master gave me some questions to put to both sier Bernardo and sier Domenico; also some for a few senior servants. I may tell them that you wish them to cooperate?"
She pulled a face. "Let Jacopo back in."
I went to the door and opened it slowly in case he had his ear to the keyhole and needed to skedaddle, but he was leaning against the wall on the far side of the corridor, arms folded and eyes hot with anger. I winked and stepped aside.
He marched in and bowed excessively low. "How may I serve, madonna?"
"Stop sulking," she said. "It's childish. Escort sier Alfeo around and tell everyone that he asks questions with my permission. If anyone refuses to answer, report them to me. Now go away, both of you. I am upset and need to lie down."
"Frail as the Walls of Troy," Jacopo remarked after the door had been safely closed and we were walking the corridor together.
"She is a tough lady," I agreed.
"Where to, sier inquisitor?"
"Sier Bernardo is inspecting meat at this time of day?"
"Yes, but in a dignified, aristocratic way."
"Is sier Domenico available?"
"He told me he would be in the library all morning. This way, then."
Our path returned us to the big salone where the murder weapon was preserved in its glass mausoleum. In the window overlooking the riva and the shipping basin sat the plump little lady I had seen with donna Alina on Friday. At first I thought she was alone, the epitome of the sequestered Venetian nobleman's wife dying of boredom as the world went by without her; but then I saw she had a child with her and was pointing out the sights. I knew who she was.
"Pray present me to donna Isabetta," I asked my guide.
"Signora Isabetta," he snapped, but he changed course.
Isabetta acknowledged me with a careful lack of expression, but she did invite me to be seated, which was both gratifying and unexpected. The child, aged about five, huddled close to her mother, alarmed by a stranger.
"Maria, dear," Isabetta whispered, "you go with Jacopo and find Nurse. Thank you, Jacopo." Mousey she might be, but she had no hesitation about giving him orders. She watched the two of them depart, and then waited for me to speak, all bland and respectful, eyes demurely downcast. The huge salone was hardly a private space, but her behavior in meeting alone with a man would not meet with her mother-in-law's approval. I wondered if she had planned this.
"I am sorry to interrupt you, madonna."
She nodded agreement to my feet.
"Do you mind answering a few brief questions?"
"What do you wish to know, messer?"
"You married sier Domenico before his father's death?"
Another nod.
"So you knew Zorzi. What sort of a man was he?"
"An icicle in a furnace." She spoke softly, guardedly.
"You refer to his lifespan or his character?"
She did not return my smile, perhaps did not even see it. She was a very tightly controlled lady. "The latter. First, of course, he was the handsomest boy in Venice and possibly in all Christendom, truly beautiful. He knew it. Men stared at him in the streets. He was witty, talented, and cultured. He dressed like a peacock and danced like a butterfly."
"The furnace?"
"The furnace was the way he looked at women. The moment I met him, his eyes were telling me that he had been waiting for me all his life, that I was indeed fortunate beyond all women, and if we could just slip away from all these other people he would demonstrate what men were for. He was still making the same offer the last time I saw him." She hardly moved a muscle while whispering all this to me. An onlooker at a distance would not have known we were conversing at all.
"And the icicle?"
"Was what I saw when I looked into his eyes."
I bowed my head in praise. "You are a wise and observant lady. Did he kill his father?"
"That is up to you to discover, is it not? She signed your contract?"
"She did."
A tiny hint of a smile came and went, leaving a hint of contempt behind. "I knew she would. She has been obsessed with her lost son ever since he fled."
"You bring Zorzi to life for me. Will you give me the benefit of your judgment of donna Alina?"
"No."
Wise, observant, and careful. "Then was Zorzi capable of murdering his father?"
"Only if it was necessary."
"Necessary for what?"
"For his own happiness. What else mattered?"
"Did you know that he was having an affair with a married woman?"
"Lots of them. You refer to that story that he could not explain his whereabouts without betraying a lover? Zorzi…" She paused, frowning very slightly. "It is hard to talk of such a libertine having any sort of honor, but he did have some standards. He was no puffball. He kept himself extremely fit-so he would never disappoint a friend, he said. And he resisted any sort of authority. I often wondered if he might have run away to protect a woman, just as a temporary measure. His mother might have put him up to it-going into hiding until they catch the real killer. If that were the case he would have had to be innocent, of course."
"Then the Ten declared him guilty and gave up looking?"
"It's possible."
"Yes it is. So he was innocent?"
"I doubt if Zorzi remained innocent much beyond his twelfth birthday, but he may not have been guilty of patricide."
"And his mother may know where he is? Quite apart from the letters you and your husband provide for her?"
"I doubt it, now. If he stayed in any one place for long, the bounty hunters would have caught him. She really believes the letters."
I was inclined to believe that, but not ready to check it off as certain. Alina was a cunning and manipulative old woman, and I strongly suspected that Isabetta Scorozini detested her.
"I understand that you had a family conference yesterday?"