Page 7 of The Venice Murders (Flora Steele Mystery #11)

7

Walking into the Cipriani, Flora made straight for the reception desk, Bianca’s card in her hand. The older of the two men on duty was head of the large reception team, she knew, and it was to him she showed the business card.

‘We’re thinking of hiring a boat for the day and I’ve had a recommendation,’ she began. ‘Would you know this gentleman?’

The man afforded the name a brief glance, then gave a slight cough. ‘We do not usually give recommendations, signora.’ He passed a hand over sleeked-down grey hair before returning the card and met Flora’s enquiring face with a professional smile.

‘I’m not actually asking for a recommendation,’ she pointed out. ‘Only if you know this name.’

‘I do,’ he admitted, ‘and I would advise that if you wish to take a boat, you allow us to organise the hire for you.’

‘There’s a problem with…’ she glanced down at the card,‘Piero Benetti?’

‘Piero Benetti? Assolutamente! ’ The younger man on the desk, who had clearly been listening in, earned himself a severe look from his superior.

‘You know him then?’ Flora transferred her attention to the young receptionist.

He cast his colleague a nervous look. ‘I would not say that I know him. Non esattamente . But I saw Benetti when he came here. To the hotel. And he caused much trouble.’

‘Really, what trouble would that be?’

‘The signora should not worry,’ the older man said smoothly. ‘We will find an excellent boat for you and your husband, and at a very good rate.’

‘The trouble?’ This was too interesting to ignore.

The senior receptionist took stock of Flora and must have decided that she wasn’t a woman to give up. That she wasn’t going away. With obvious reluctance, he said, ‘Signor Benetti had a problem with a member of our staff and felt it right to express his anger.’

‘Is that a complicated way of saying he lost his temper?’

‘He did.’

‘ E come! ’ the younger man added, earning another severe look from his mentor. ‘We must replace two large vases. The ones you see there. Smashed to pieces.’

‘And the member of staff with whom Benetti had a problem? Would that be Franco Massi?’

‘Yes, signora.’ The grey-haired man gave a delicate sigh. ‘Now, if there is anything further…’

‘Nothing, thank you. You have been very helpful.’

Bemused, the two men looked at each other until the younger, recalling he was in some disgrace, grabbed hold of a ringing telephone.

Jack had gone ahead and, by the time Flora joined him in the bedroom, he was already in swimming costume and sandals. ‘Come on, slow coach,’ he urged. ‘Let’s make the most of what’s left of the day.’

Flora shuffled through her suitcase in search of a bathing suit. ‘Bianca’s father had a problem with Franco,’ she murmured. ‘He came here to the Cipriani and made a massive scene.’

‘His daughter had just been dumped by Massi. It’s understandable.’

‘But to barge into a hotel, a hotel like this, and create a huge argument – he actually broke several vases – he must have been pretty violent.’

‘A testament to love for his daughter?’

Flora saw her husband’s grin and gave up. ‘OK, I may be exaggerating, but it’s still something to remember. Look, you go ahead, Jack – find a shady spot for us both. Ah, here’s my costume.’ She held up a red ruched halter neck with a sweetheart neckline. ‘Just a pair of sandals I need now. I’ll be down as soon as I’ve found them.’

Ten minutes later, trailing her feet through deliciously cool water, she had to agree with Jack. This was the way to spend an afternoon in Venice. Not in walking the scorching lanes, or immured in art galleries, wonderful though they were, but sitting on the edge of this fabulous pool while Jack sliced his way up and down the long stretch of water.

After several lengths, he came to a halt and swam to the pool’s edge. Looking up at her, his flop of hair plastered to his forehead, he gave her a gentle scold.

‘You really should learn to swim, Flora. I could teach you.’

‘I’m happy enough here,’ she said.

‘But it’s fun. An important life skill, too.’

‘I’m happy,’ she repeated.

She was genuinely scared of deep water. A few years ago, she had come close to drowning and paddling her feet was now the nearest she intended to get. Jack was right, of course. Learning to swim was something she should have done as a child – as an adult it was too steep a challenge – but Abbeymead was some miles from the sea which meant that journeys to the coast were infrequent and dependent on public transport and, though there was a swimming pool in the nearby town, for much of her childhood it had been closed on and off from the threat of polio.

She scrambled up and, hopping from one foot to another across paving that sizzled, made it to one of the sunloungers Jack had bagged earlier. Lazily, she lay back, contemplating a sky the colour of ultramarine, her gaze travelling downwards to the pink walls and terracotta roofs beyond the hotel’s perimeter, to a glistening white dome, and in the near distance, to the red brick of a bell tower. What a setting for a swimming pool!

‘Shall we get a drink?’ she asked, as Jack arrived at her side, reaching across to throw him a towel. ‘Here! You’re dripping on me.’

‘I need you wet! But a good idea. A limonata , maybe? The waiter’s on his way over.’ He nodded towards the approaching figure.

When Flora followed his gaze, however, it wasn’t one of the pool staff she saw but the younger of the receptionists she’d spoken to less than an hour ago.

‘Signor, signora, you have a telephone call,’ he called, before he’d even reached them.

When they were slow to respond, he said more urgently, ‘From England. It costs much.’

‘Something’s happened at home!’ Flora jumped up, grabbing her sundress. ‘Something bad. The All’s Well? The cottage?’

‘Who is it?’ Jack asked the man calmly.

‘It is a lady. A Signora Yenner?’

‘Jenner. Alice! Oh, dear Lord, she’s ill!’ Frantically, Flora cast around for her sandals.

‘If Alice were ill, she’d hardly be telephoning.’ But Jack’s reasoning went unheard.

‘I should have phoned, I knew I should, but somehow the time never seemed right.’

‘Well, it is now, so stop panicking and go and speak to her.’

‘You’ll come, too?’

‘But why?’

‘Because I need you with me, Jack.’

Obediently, he pulled on a pair of shorts and casual shirt. ‘My clothes will be utterly soaked, you realise that.’

‘They’ll dry,’ she said shortly.

‘Flora, love, is that you?’

‘Yes.’ Flora gripped the receiver until her knuckles shone white. ‘What’s the matter, Alice? What’s happened?’

‘You didn’t telephone.’

‘I meant to, I really did. I’m so sorry,’ she said lamely, and waited for the blow to fall. Alice must have terrible news. But her friend stayed silent.

A short pause. ‘Is everything OK in the village?’ she ventured, praying it would be.

‘I reckon so.’

The creases on Flora’s forehead deepened. ‘And you’re well?’

‘More or less, my love. We’ve had good weather so the arthritis isn’t playin’ up like it can do.’

‘The All’s Well?’ she asked, holding her breath.

‘That Rose is doin’ all right. I’m not happy with how she behaved with Hector and never will be – she hurt my Sally badly – but she’s managin’ the shop well enough, I must say.’

‘And the cottage?’

‘I passed by t’other day and your house looks fine.’

Jack had been listening in and out of the corner of her eye she saw him gesticulating, mouthing an irritated ‘What!’ It seemed extraordinary to Flora, too, that Alice was paying for an expensive call to tell her precisely nothing.

‘I went by Overlay House, too,’ her old friend offered. ‘And I’ve met the new chap, as it happens, the new man who’s renting. Met him at the baker’s – the day after you left, it was – and I arsked how he was gettin’ on at the house. He pulled a bit of a face and said OK, he supposed, but it needed a fair bit of refurbishment. I bet it does, I thought! He seemed nice enough but it’s a funny business. I dunno if I’d trust him far. He’s moved here from Lewes, did you know? – says he wanted somewhere quieter. I wouldn’t have thought Lewes was exactly noisy, so it’s a bit strange. He doesn’t appear to work, either. Mebbe he’s got money. He was talkin’ about doin’ stuff for one of the bonfire societies, but that’s not a job. They’re all volunteers, the ones who make the costumes and the floats.’

At this point, she was forced to pause for breath and Jack took the opportunity to grab the phone from Flora’s hand. ‘Alice, what’s happened?’ he said quietly but firmly. ‘Why are you really ringing?’

There was silence, the only sound faint echoes on the line. ‘It’s Sally,’ she said at last, naming her niece and the owner of the Priory.

‘Sally’s unwell?’ Flora said into the mouthpiece.

‘Not ezactly. But she’s been that worn down. I told her to go to Norfolk – there’s one or two Jenners still in the county and I could get in touch. Some lovely beaches there, sand and all, but then that girl phoned and Sally decided she’d go to see her.’

‘What girl and where?’

‘The one Dominic Lister hired. That Italian lass.’

‘Bianca Benetti?’

‘Probably. Sounds like the name. She’s been phoning Sally this last week. Real upset. Something about her dad and her boyfriend. She said she really wanted to see Sally, talk to her, face to face. Said she’d always been a good friend and, when Sal said that she’d been feelin’ a bit off colour, the girl told her take the train to Venice and she’d find her a room.’

‘Are you saying Sally is in Venice?’ Flora was struggling to understand.

‘She’s on her way. I just told you.’ Alice was sounding agitated, but added quickly, ‘She won’t bother you, honestly. She definitely won’t come lookin’ for you.’

‘And that’s the reason you’ve phoned?’

‘Yes,’ Alice mumbled. ‘I’m sorry, my love. You and Jack deserve a good holiday together and Sally could have gone anywhere for hers, but there…I didn’t like to tell you. I thought if you phoned, I could just kind of drop it in, but you didn’t phone so I got a bit desperate. I thought you needed to know, just in case when she gets there you might meet her by accident.’

‘Just in case,’ Jack remarked drily, as they said goodbye to a clearly relieved Alice, unburdened now by the momentous news. ‘I’d say it was a certainty.’

‘It might not happen.’ Flora tried to conjure a smile from him.

‘She’s staying with the Benetti girl, Flora, and you’re intent on pursuing this Massi business. It has to be a certainty.’

Walking back to the pool, she put her arm around him and hugged him close. ‘If we do meet Sally, what does it matter – really?’

‘I suppose I’d hoped that for a few days we could leave Abbeymead behind, that I could spend them alone with you. Just you and me together. Was that too much to hope?’

Flora had no answer. It seemed it was.