I had no way of proving that the book was genuine, but I soon established that it was at least relevant to our search. A few rare mentions of Saints' days instead of dates led me to a 1 Tuesday following a 28 Monday, and the universal calendar from our astrological bookshelf told me that I had found March 1586. As March 1 is New Year's Day in Venice, I marked the place with a piece of paper and went looking for 1587. I rapidly established that the record ran from the summer of 1584 to December 23, 1587. There it stopped, a few hours before Gentile Michiel died. The book was either an incredible hoax or it was extremely germane.
The last record consisted only of the name "Tonina Q" with no details, pornographic or otherwise. December 23 listed Caterina Lotto, who had apparently been an accomplished acrobat, but was doomed to be Honeycat's third victim, in spite of her fearsome guardian, Matteo Surian. That discovery prompted me to go back to the beginning and riff through, listing each woman's name and the date she first appeared. Venice is reputed to have ten thousand courtesans, but at the end Zorzi's catalogue listed only sixty-seven, which seemed a quite modest total for a healthy youngster with unlimited money and minimal morals, over a period longer than Scheherazade's thousand and one nights.
When I had reached the end I worked backward, noting the last time each name appeared. That took me longer, but it confirmed that some names were mentioned only once, others frequently. I did not have time to count the number of times each name appeared, but I could identify his favorites, which included all four of Honeycat's victims: Lucia da Bergamo, Caterina Lotto, Ruosa da Corone, and Marina Bortholuzzi. I also recognized the names of some highly regarded women whom Violetta had mentioned. Alessa appeared many times-she seemed to enjoy gondolas-but there was no mention of Violetta, to my heartfelt relief.
Four single-mentions and three favorites were identified only by Christian names, the favorites being Chiara Q, Lodovica Q, and Tonina Q. Recalling donna Alina's report of Zorzi defending a true love I noted that those might be the amateurs Domenico had mentioned, not courtesans-I could not bring myself to think of them as ladies, not in that company. Most of the seven bore unusual names, perhaps aliases.
Apart from gondolas, the scenery mentioned included chairs, tables, and floors; also haystacks, grass, stables, and a coach, all which must have been on the mainland.
At last we had the courtesan murders unarguably tied to Zorzi Michiel and in the morning we could start sending out warnings to any women Violetta and Alessa had missed. It was time for me to go. I checked that there was no light showing under the Maestro's door and left the book and my notes on his side of the desk. I added a note: The Popess left this for you on Sunday.
I hadn't done my dusting.
Again Giorgio rowed me to San Zulian. Normally I tell him what I am up to and the fact that I had not explained these midnight journeys was making him uneasy. Again I walked the deserted streets by feeble lantern light, for the moon was clouded over. This time I had only my shadow for company, not even a cat. Illogically, the fact that now I carried a fortune in gold under my shirt made me more nervous than before, as if thieves might somehow smell it from the shadows. I was actually happy to see the door with the grille. I was probably early and risked running into another scoundrel on a similar mission, but I had no intention of lingering outside any longer than I had to. I rapped the four-knock signal on the boards. Moments passed until I began to feel faint for lack of breathing, then a face appeared in the darkness behind the bars and I heard the bolt being drawn.
It was not until we were both in the room with the table that either of us spoke. As before, Sciara wore black and a sardonic, cadaverous smirk.
"Did you get it?" I asked, louder than I expected. The question was superfluous, because he had a coin balance waiting.
He stood with his fingers on the table, looking across at me with a fixed, catlike stare. "Of course, or you would not have been admitted. I warn you, though, that some documents seem to be missing."
"What isn't missing?"
He shook his head. "I cannot say and will not look to see. First you pay, then I let you examine whatever was in the folder when I retrieved it. I swear that I have not opened it or looked inside. There is something in there, but not as much as there should be. No argument. Pay now or go."
The terms were unconscionable and the moment I brought out the gold, then that mysterious second door might swing open and Missier Grande march in to arrest me. If Sciara was just cheating me and there was nothing of value in the folder, I should have no recourse except to poke my rapier through him, but that would be no solution and little satisfaction. If I refused to trade, more women might die. I reached for the pouch.
"You will understand," he remarked as he began weighing the coins, "that I cannot furnish you with a receipt?"
I pulled out the chair on my side of the table. "Of course we must trust each other. Let there be honor among thieves."
He showed his teeth in a satisfied leer at the balance. "Excellent, one grain over. You are generous." He dropped the coins in a bag and hung it on his belt. He returned my money pouch.
Only then did he pull out his chair and sit down. Reaching under the table, he produced a document folder, a large sheet of heavy paper with its corners folded over to make an envelope, tied up with ribbon. I could see right away from the older creases and dust marks that the package had been originally folded around much thicker contents. It had been plundered, perhaps quite recently.
Sciara held it close to one of the lamps and scanned the writing on the outside. "Sier Giovanni… That's odd. These usually begin with the original report to the chiefs of the Ten… The chiefs' decision… a special meeting of the Three… Bless my soul, Their Excellencies met on the morning of Christmas Day! I don't recall that ever happening."
"Why don't we just see what's in there?" I demanded, for the contents clearly could not match the length of the index.
"Oh, the impetuosity of youth!" Sciara murmured, but he set to work on the binding.
"Do documents often go missing from such files?"
"Not since Domine Spataforta became grand chancellor." He opened and spread out the cover, exposing about a dozen or so sheets of paper held together by ribbon. I could almost believe he was too embarrassed to meet my eye as he passed them across to me.
I moaned. "Sixty ducats a page? I hardly dare touch such valuable material." Few things taste more bitter than the knowledge that one has been played for a dupe. Sciara must be enjoying himself enormously, remembering past slights. I began at the back, where the earliest documents should be.
The first was a report: Testimony of His Excellency, NH Giovanni Gradenigo, member of the Council of Three. Clearly he had made a formal report to his brother inquisitors, and the secretary had written it as if he were any ordinary witness. The man who had summoned me to his deathbed was about to speak to me from the grave.
Gradenigo had been present in the dark and crowded atrium and was apparently quite close when Gentile Michiel was stabbed. His first warning had been a woman's screams, followed by clamor from many throats. He had fought his way through the fleeing, panic-stricken mob, and it sounded as if he had been a large, or at least powerful, man. He found Gentile Michiel writhing on the floor, with donna Alina down there beside him, desperately trying to staunch the flow of blood. Counselor Foscari, the "red" among the Three, arrived moments later. Normally an investigation would work its way up through the chiefs of the Ten to the full Council, and only then to the Three. In this case the state inquisitors had been right on the spot. They had seen the blood first-hand. But its setting within the holy precincts of the Basilica had made this a highly unusual case from the beginning.