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If Franco had ever suffered worries for his family, they had to have been minimal, yet apparently the man had returned to his home town often and Flora wondered why. Was it that he wasn’t particularly happy with his lot? That Venice hadn’t turned out to be the nirvana he’d expected? That some feeling deep inside remained unsatisfied and, as his brother said, he’d begun to need his family more than they needed him?

Jack had been silent for some time, and she wondered if he had been contemplating the same conundrum. When he spoke, though, he surprised her.

‘We met a Father Renzi in Venice. I believe he was once the priest in Asolo.’

Well done, Jack, she thought. Neat and direct. Now, we might get closer to what we’ve come for.

The signora nodded. ‘A good man.Avrebbe dovuto restare.’

‘He should have stayed,’ Danielle translated. ‘We think he should never have gone to Venice. Bad things have happened there. When my mother telephoned Franco, he was not happy. He told her that the priest had troubles. Again.’

‘Troubles,’ their hostess agreed.

‘Did he say what they were?’ Flora asked.

‘There were things that had been taken – stolen, Franco thought – from Santa Margherita. That is the priest’s church,’ the boy explained.

Things, Flora’s inner voice queried. No mention of the painting, so what things were these? No mention of the missing woman either, and she wondered whether, in fact, the news had percolated this far. It seemed not.

But hadn’t Father Renzi said clearly that he knew nothing of any other thefts? That earlier there had been no trouble? Yet, apparently, Franco had known for some time of problems at Father Renzi’s church. Had he also known of the missing painting and the missing housekeeper – before he met his death? Is that why he’d gone to La Zucca that evening, suspecting the owner of being involved? Gone to intercede with Silvio Fabbri or to threaten him?

‘We heard there had been trouble here in Asolo, too,’ Jack said, while Flora held her breath, waiting to see whether or not their hosts would refuse to talk of it.

There was a long silence before Daniele said solemnly, ‘The priest is a man of God. He must speak honestly, but in Asolo you do not always tell the truth.’

Flora shifted in her chair. ‘You’re thinking of what happened to the priest after Luigi Tasca went to prison?’ she said quietly.

‘You know of the matter?’ Daniele looked startled.

‘Father Renzi spoke of it to us,’ Jack said. ‘He was very frank. You see, he knows my…my stepfather.’ It was said with difficulty, his distaste for the word clear. ‘Father Renzi was keen to share his problems with the count.’

‘Your father?’ Signora Massi had caught the word.

‘Stepfather,’ he said deliberately. ‘Count Falconi.’

‘The count?Oh!Un bell’uomo!’ she said, sighing a little.

‘My mother is half in love with the count,’ Daniele joked. ‘And today you have come to Asolo to see him?’

‘No.’ Jack sounded flustered. ‘Not today. We came to see your beautiful town and to say how sorry we were to learn of Franco’s death.’

As soon as Daniele had translated for his mother, Flora tried a new approach. ‘We met Bianca Benetti in Venice as well,’ she said conversationally. ‘She is a beautiful girl.’

The signora nodded. ‘Bianca a good girl. And Franco good.’

Flora exchanged a look with her husband, neither of them sure what this somewhat cryptic comment implied. Perhaps it wasn’t cryptic after all.

‘You liked Bianca?’ Flora asked the signora.

‘A good girl,’ she repeated.

It was fair to assume then that Franco’s mother and, no doubt his father, had been happy with their son’s engagement. Bianca’s arrival had caused no conflict in the family.

Finishing her lemonade, Flora found her handbag and got to her feet, Jack taking his cue and following suit. ‘Thank you so much for the drink,’ she said. ‘It’s lovely to have met you, but you must be very busy and we’ve taken up too much of your time already.’

‘You will explore Asolo?’ Daniele suggested.

What Flora wanted most was to visit the Tascas’ farm, to meet Luigi again and possibly his father, but there was no obvious excuse she could offer.