The Dark Heart of Florence by Tasha Alexander (ebook reader screen TXT) 📕

downstairs, following the sound, and found him in one of the ground floor storage rooms.

“Fredo, what do you know of the stories of hidden treasure in this house?” I asked.

He grinned. “Oh, signora, we all know those tales, and I can promise you there is not a single person who has lived or worked in this house who has not tried to find whatever it is. But there is nothing. Trust me. I myself have made a thorough examination of every nook, every cranny, every dark space, every room.”

“How did the stories start?”

“They go back to the days of that crazy friar who burned art,” Fredo said. “Savonarola.”

“Why have they persisted for so long when no one has ever found anything?”

“Most people need money, signora, and they all cling to hope, even ridiculous hope.”

“What about the curse?” I asked.

He laughed. “There is no curse. If there were, I would be dead many times over. Surely you do not believe in such things?”

“I don’t.”

“Good, signora. You are safe in this house, even if you look for treasure. I can promise you that.”

“The man whose body we found in the courtyard was named Marzo Spichio. Had you ever seen him before? Perhaps doing work on the house?”

“No, he was never here. I do all the maintenance needed. Tessa, Signora Orlandi, and Cook take care of the rest. The countess arranged her household so that it would require only a small staff, one she could trust.”

“But she’s been dead for more than a decade, and the house has been empty most of the time since then. Surely things have changed.”

“I do not think so,” Fredo said. “I did not work for her, but my father did. When he retired, I took his place. That is how it often goes here, one relative replacing another. Signora Orlandi is from the old crew, and she chose to hire Tessa, who is the cook’s niece. We are all kept on at full pay, even when no one is in residence.”

“Tessa is a well-educated young woman,” I said. “That seems unusual for someone in her position.”

“The countess had no tolerance for ignorance and required an educated staff. Tessa showed promise as a girl, so her schooling was taken care of.”

“By the countess?”

“Until her death, after which the estate continued to support her.”

“Who took care of the finances before my stepdaughter first came here?”

“For many years, it was handled by the man called Gruber from Vienna.”

Mr. Gruber was the solicitor in charge of the countess’s estate. It was he who informed Kat of her parentage and managed the assets she inherited from her mother. “And has that changed?” I asked.

“Six months ago your husband stepped in.”

“Did he make any changes?”

“None, signora. Things in the Palazzo di Vieri do not often change.”

I thanked him and then sought out the rest of the household staff. Signora Orlandi was in the kitchen with the cook. Neither of them told me anything that differed in the slightest from what Fredo had said. That left only Tessa, whom I found in my study, where she was dusting.

“You have asked the others these same questions, yes?” She left her dust cloth on a table and went to the window, looking outside.

“I have,” I said.

“My answers will be the same as theirs. This household is run in a manner designed to protect the countess. Now that she is gone, the same standards apply. Nothing has changed, so far as I know.”

“Have you searched for treasure in the house?”

“No, signora, you know I would never do that. Am I not the one who warned you that the house stops anyone who does?”

“You did, but I don’t believe you give any more credence to the notion of a curse than I do.”

“You’re correct on that count,” she said, “but I can’t deny that strange things occur here, like those described by my grandmother.”

“What other secrets does the house hold?”

“I wish I knew. Did you speak to the Spichio family?”

“I did.”

“What did you learn?”

“Only that they are deeply saddened by their loss.”

“That’s all? Did you talk to Marzo’s fiancée?”

“Yes. She’s heartbroken.”

All this time, Tessa had stood facing the window. Now, she turned to me. “Is she? I find that hard to swallow, given that she had once loved his brother.”

“How do you know that?”

“You’re not the only one curious about the dead man in our courtyard,” she said. “I am not ignorant, signora. I know that Marzo was murdered and that the police should be investigating the crime. Why are they not? What is so special about this house, and the people who own it, that protects them from lawful inquiry? Should I worry about continuing to work here? If I die in mysterious circumstances, will the true cause of my death be hidden?”

“I would never stand for that,” I said, wanting to reassure her, even as I knew I couldn’t make her any promises.

“I trust you, signora, although maybe that is foolish. Your husband and his friend … I do not know what to make of them. They are not honest.”

“My husband is honest.”

“Is he? It does not seem so. He is congenial and polite, but that is not the same as honest.”

My hackles rose and I wanted to defend Colin, but I reminded myself that she did not know anything about his work. “I know how outrageous it seems to keep the police out of the house, but, unfortunately, that is standard procedure among many well-to-do families. They don’t like scandal. It doesn’t mean that they aren’t talking to the police. I assure you, Marzo’s death is being investigated.”

“But in private?”

“Yes.”

“This, signora, is the sort of thing that leads people to build guillotines. The upper class thinks it can do whatever it wants. It never works out for them well in the long run, not when they start interfering with matters of life and death.”

This was not the time to start arguing over historical details. She had skillfully manipulated a change in the direction of our conversation.