"I am very grateful to you for that little story, madonna. Have you any thoughts on how Sister Lucretzia came to leave that incriminating book here?"

"I prefer not to speculate on that."

"Quite understandable. What puzzles me is, who could have known what the diary contained, other than the person who wrote it? A resident who had lived in the house for many years would have more time to, er, explore the owner's bedchamber, shall we say, than servants who come and go so often. Jacopo is the obvious culprit, but a woman would have had easier access to the donna's bedchamber than he would."

Isabetta nodded. "This is true, sier Alfeo."

"And poor Alina, on Sunday, resting her bruises. Had she perhaps taken a spoonful of laudanum that day to ease the pain?"

The lady came very close to smiling. "Two spoonfuls."

"And you checked to see that she was resting comfortably. And when Fedele said that he would visit Nostradamus and try to scare him into abandoning his investigation, you took Sister Lucretzia aside and suggested…?"

"Nothing at all! What will they do with her, do you think, sier Alfeo?"

"Donna Alina? The woman is deranged. A convent, I expect. It may look like a jail cell but it will be called a nun's cell. I don't think anything more than that. As for Jacopo… I think he has gone to the Ten and confessed. If so, I hope he may have saved his life." I also hoped that he was telling the inquisitors everything imaginable. They would rather send a strong young man like him to the galleys than to jail, and in that case they would not want to wreck his shoulders on the strappado.

Isabetta nodded. "That's about what I was thinking."

Then she uttered a cry that was almost a scream and I leaped to my feet.

Vizio Filiberto Vasco was standing in the doorway. He was mobile, although leaning on a sbirro's shoulder, but he was a terrifying sight, his clothing soaked in blood and his face ripped to a wasteland of blood, hair, and raw meat. His eyes seemed to have escaped damage, for they burned black and white in that horrible gory mask. They were staring at me.

Missier Grande muttered an oath and strode over to him. The sbirri reported in low voices. I heard my name several times and saw other faces glance in my direction. One of the men pulled over a chair for the victim.

Another sbirro was holding a honey-colored cat by the tail. It had been almost blown apart by a firearm at close range, so that only its backbone still held its two halves together, and both were badly burned. It was, needless to say, very dead. It stank up the room.

Missier Grande beckoned me and I went across to them.

"Is this yours?" He pointed at the dead cat.

"Emphatically not, capitano. I have seen it around this area before, though, or another like it. Last Friday a cat blocked my way at just about the place we met it tonight. It was behaving so oddly that I knew right away it was rabid, so I retreated and went by another route."

"You did not report this to the priest, or a sbirro?"

"No doubt I should have done, but it happened very late at night, and I assumed that the animal would be dead by morning." I could not resist asking Vasco, "Did it bite you?"

He raised bloody hands as if he wanted to leap up and strangle me, but a sbirro's grip on his shoulder restrained him.

"Witch!" he said. "You set your familiar on me! Witchcraft!" His lips were so torn that his speech was badly distorted.

"Not I," I told Missier Grande. "I saw something out of the corner of my eye and looked up. I shouted a warning and jumped back. I regret that he did not react fast enough."

Some of his own men were nodding.

"I charge him with witchcraft!" Vasco mumbled.

I sighed. "There was no witchcraft. I was running to Number Ninety-six because I had a very urgent message to deliver-that a woman might seek to commit a murder there. As it happened, I did arrive there just in time to prevent that dreadful crime. But on my way there, your vizio stopped me and demanded a book. I assured him that I had no book with me, and if he would just accompany me to the door of Ninety-six, so I could deliver my warning, then I would gladly come back here with him and give him the book I thought he wanted. And then… What was it were we talking about after that, just before the cat attacked you?"

Vasco did not answer. His men began to grin, because that had been when Vasco threatened to strip my clothes off in public. Dark alley or not, he had no authority to make such an obscene threat to any resident of Venice, whether nobleman or lowly beggar.

Missier Grande raised his eyebrows at the silence.

I have never reminded him of the debt he owes me and I never will. I have never seen him waver in his duty because of it-except maybe then. Or perhaps he was merely acknowledging all the priceless information I had just extracted from Isabetta Scorozini for him. Whatever the reason, that night he gave me the benefit of any doubt he may have had.

He pointed at the reeking cat. "See that gets burned," he said. "We must get the vizio to a surgeon for stitching."

"I do pray that it didn't bite him," I murmured. Rabies is always fatal, and it can take months for the symptoms to show.

Ignoring my good wishes, Missier Grande glanced around the company. "Their Excellencies may wish to question some of you tomorrow regarding these events, but now I bid you all a good evening."

33

So our guests departed. Giorgio took Matteo Surian back to San Samuele, and the Michiels left in their own boats.

I had not realized how hungry I was. Fussing and scolding, Mama Angeli had removed our uneaten Bisato Anguilla Sull'ara and produced piping hot Canestrelli alla Griglia. The Maestro, in an astonishingly good mood, raided his hoard of favorite wines for a bottle from a vineyard I had never heard of. Although impatient to return to 96 and comfort Violetta, I sat down without complaint and set to work.

"A most interesting case," he remarked between scallops.

I thought we had been very lucky to avoid disaster. "You may have trouble collecting a fee from Violetta. Her contract specified that you would catch a man."

He puckered his cheeks in satisfaction. "Jacopo was just as guilty, and the Caterina note condemns him as an accomplice."

I conceded the point with a nod. "But you have no hope of seeing any lucre from the Michiels."

He took a sip of wine and smacked his lips. "They will not want to face a lawsuit."

The gall of the man! Bill the brothers for proving that their mother had murdered their father?

"You gave the Ten your sacred oath that you had no interest in Zorzi's death."

He scowled. "So I did. A letter of sympathy, then, and hope that they feel like acknowledging my assistance with a suitable honorarium."

"Yes, master." I was more interested in eating than talking. The sooner I could leave the better.

"Of course the case is not quite closed. You still have to tie up a few loose ends."

"Me?"

"Yes, you." Nostradamus waved a fork vaguely. "Every adept develops his own particular style to some extent, his personal talents. I am detecting hints-as I should be by this time-that you are finding your own skills, your particular strengths. For example, after you almost caught Honeycat in the Campo San Zanipolo, you were quite insistent that the root of the mystery lay in Palazzo Michiel. That suggests a burgeoning intuition."

I swallowed. "Um… Maybe. Matteo had told me that the fake friar didn't smell like a friar, and the one I tackled certainly didn't. When I grabbed donna Alina tonight, I… I was reminded that she uses rose water. I think the whole palazzo has a scent of rose water, and that smell was what I was detecting-without realizing, of course."