Death in the Palazzo Read Online Free PDF Page B

and liberally applied perfume to her neck, wrists, and inner elbows, all the while staring at Urbino.
    The Contessa, the strain revealing itself in her voice and face, introduced them to everyone except, of course, Gemma and Robert. Then she gave them no time to say anything for several minutes as she ran on nervously about their trip up from Rome and how pleased and honored she was to have them here at the Ca’ da Capo-Zendrini.
    â€œAnd once my friends Oriana and Filippo arrive this evening,” she finished a bit breathlessly, “everyone will be here so we can get on with all the fun!”
    Her comment fell flat despite the enthusiasm of its delivery. Signora Zeno and Dr. Vasco stared back at her with weary, long-suffering looks. Bambina kept shooting Urbino the kind of glances that would have been overdone in a silent movie.
    Signora Zeno installed herself on a sofa with some help from Dr. Vasco.
    â€œYou look different, Barbara,” she said as she laid her cane across her knees. “What have you done to yourself?”
    Considering that she hadn’t seen the Contessa for decades, it was a strange comment until Bambina clarified it by saying, “She means compared to your photograph in the Gazzettino . And she’s right, Barbara. Maybe it’s the company you keep.”
    Viola assessed Bambina with an amused grin as she squirmed and kept smiling in Urbino’s direction.
    â€œYou seem to have an admirer. Other than me, I mean.”
    Gemma seated herself next to her grandmother and managed to find one of the old woman’s hands up in her sleeve. She held it and said in Italian:
    â€œIt’s so nice to see you, Nonna. It’s been a long time.”
    Her grandmother—in fact, her aunt Bambina and Dr. Vasco also—were fairly fluent in English, but it was only natural to speak Italian with her grandmother even though Gemma felt more comfortable in English. The only persons in the room with a slight disadvantage of language were Angelica, whose Italian was still at the textbook stage, and Molly, whose command was more spirited than correct.
    â€œYou don’t look well,” the old woman said with the candor that often accompanies the elderly.
    Dr. Vasco nodded his head grimly and said with a worried frown, “Your color is very poor, my dear.”
    â€œIt’s all this dampness!” Signora Zeno proclaimed. She looked around the room as if searching out damp spots, mildew, and mold among all the bibelots. Her lively eye became arrested by the Veronese. It showed a stout, golden-haired, barebacked Venus dividing her attention between two handsome bearded swains beneath a lush tree.
    â€œThat’s new,” she said with a touch of contempt, pointing to the painting with her black cane.
    â€œOnly about four hundred years new! It’s a Veronese!” Sebastian said.
    â€œDon’t be impertinent, young man,” she responded in thickly accented English. “I’m well aware of the age of this painting, and the real name of the painter is Paolo Caliari! What I meant was that it’s new since I was here last.”
    Her voice had a tendency to fade out slightly at points, yet it had a command in it. It almost made her weakness seem less a disability than a form of restraint.
    â€œAnd when was that?” Sebastian asked.
    â€œThe month of May in the year of Our Lord 1938.”
    The response was made by none other than Molly. Every pair of eyes turned to her.
    â€œMolly claims to know the past,” Gemma said.
    â€œClaims to know!” Molly said. “You tell me, Signora Zeno, was it May 1938, or wasn’t it? And was there a gala here then, or not?”
    Various degrees of shock and surprise showed on everyone’s faces. Dr. Vasco stared at Molly with cold fury.
    â€œAbout the Veronese,” the Contessa said quickly. “It was a wedding gift to me from Alvise. That’s why it’s—it’s new to you,