5 - Her Deadly Mischief Read Online Free PDF

prompted.
    Pamarino twisted his thick neck like a man in physical pain. “If only I had stayed put…if only I had disobeyed her command just that once. But I didn’t. I opened the door and started toward the stairs. I made it only as far as the public cloakroom.”
    “What happened?”
    Pamarino stared at Messer Grande. Everyone else stared at the dwarf. The constables’ few candles cast long wavering shadows that stretched behind Pamarino toward the darkened stage. The grief he wore like a suit of armor, his form so outlandish—both made the dwarf seem very alone though almost a dozen men surrounded him.
    “I was grabbed from behind. Someone wrestled me into the cloakroom and knocked me out with a sharp blow.” Pamarino patted the brown wig covering his crown. “When I came to myself, I was dangling in the dark, barely able to breathe.” With a lurch, he hopped off the bench and squinted toward the fourth tier.
    “It must have been Alessio,” he continued in a savage whisper.
    “Did you recognize him?”
    “How could I? He came at me from behind.”
    “Was there anyone else in the corridor?”
    “With him singing?” Pamarino jabbed a finger toward me. “Of course not. They were all drooling over the box railings. But you must believe me…” Desperation was evident in the little man’s tone. “It had to be Alessio Pino. He got me out of the way so there would be no one to protect my mistress. Then he returned to the box and set on her with a vengeance.”
    Messer Grande spread his hands. “But why? Why would a young man of Alessio Pino’s standing brawl with his mistress like the lowest pimp and his tattery whore? At the opera, for God’s sake! And ending in murder!”
    Pamarino’s gaze never wavered. He kept his eyes trained on the gaping maw of the dark box. “It was that damned wager,” he said. “I knew it would lead to nothing but misery.”

Chapter Three
    “It was to be my mistress’ greatest triumph,” Pamarino said, staring moodily into the glass of brandy Torani had fetched from his personal stock in his office.
    The wagon from the charnel house had come and gone. The dwarf and Messer Grande sat on benches facing each other. The rest of us stood, clustered within the ring of yellow candlelight that created a glowing cave within the vast, black, now chilly theater. From the shadows came the rustlings of rats.
    “She made the wager with one of her rivals,” the dwarf continued. “Perhaps you’ve heard of La Samsona, the painted giantess.”
    We all nodded. La Samsona had taken an unconventional route to her present career. She had once been famous as a festival strongwoman. This seasoned courtesan stood a head taller than most men and possessed a statuesque form that she clothed in the latest French fashion and further gilded with a fortune in pearls and diamonds. It was a son of a former Doge who had furnished her ticket off the carnival platform. When he was done with her, she’d proved that the power of her wits matched the strength of her muscles. With great animation and gaiety, she embarked on a series of advantageous liaisons that made her one of the most talked about women in Venice.
    “La Samsona pretended to be my mistress’ bosom friend,” said Pamarino, “but she didn’t fool me. I could see through her charming smiles, straight into her canker of a heart. She was jealous of my mistress and coveted any man who courted her favor. Not too long ago, La Samsona accompanied us on a stroll in the Erberia when His Excellency, Signor—”
    A cunning look glinted in the dwarf’s eyes. “The name itself is of no importance. Let me tell it this way—my mistress was admiring a pineapple, wondering if such an exotic delicacy could possibly be worth the price, when a gentleman gallantly purchased it and had his footman carry it to our lodgings on a silk pillow. Later, my mistress sent me around with a very pretty note of thanks even as she instructed me to refuse any requests