Chapter 10

D ear Diary, where do I even begin? When I arrived back at the palazzo after my morning's adventure with Luisa, I knew that I would have to tell Rat about Signor Graziano's murder. I also knew that he'd immediately become overprotective, and I was correct. He seemed more concerned that I had seen a dead body than about the poor man's death. Even when I told him about my deductions, he seemed unable to focus on anything more than that the police questioned me. One thing was very clear: he believes that my involvement with this murder investigation is at an end. What would Tabby Cat and Wolfie do in this situation, to say nothing of Granny? I know what they'd do: they'd investigate, and that is what I intend to do. I will show my big brother that I am more than a pea-brained, silly debutante.

As if that wasn't enough, I then had to tell him about Luisa's invitation. I assumed that Rat's first instinct would be to forbid me from attending. So, imagine my surprise when he agreed to chaperone me. Of course, that was before he knew it was to be a masquerade ball. Nevertheless, even then, he seemed more interested in going than I would have expected. There is something going on that he's not telling me; I just know it.

Anyway, whatever the reason, he only sulked a little when Luisa's dressmaker, Signora Bianchi, came to measure us and discuss costumes. I have no idea how she will create two outfits in so short a period, but she assures me that they will both be ready by tomorrow afternoon.

Melody would have been very surprised to learn why her brother was willing, perhaps even eager, to attend the marchesa's party. The truth was that Rat was frustrated with his lack of progress. Forget progress; he didn't even have a plan. Was this what espionage was always like? He didn't know who he was supposed to be watching or what he should be looking for. This party might be just what he needed to meet a broader swath of Venetian society. And more important than Venetians, he hoped that the marchesa's guest list would include some of the foreigners he was most interested in.

As it happened, Rat knew something of Marchesa Luisa Casati before meeting her the previous evening. While Lord Langley had given him few instructions, he had given him some information on some of the people he might meet in society. While Melody had been out on her excursion with the marchesa, Rat had been rereading some of the information that had been provided.

Luisa Casati, born in Milan in 1881, was the daughter of a wealthy cotton manufacturer. Orphaned at thirteen when her parents died in an accident while travelling, she, along with her sister, inherited a substantial fortune. In 1900, she married the Marquis Camillo Casati Stampa di Soncino. By all accounts, a loveless marriage of convenience, they had one daughter, Cristina, a year later. When her daughter was still young, Luisa began living between Venice and Paris while her husband and daughter moved between the family estate in Milan and a home in Rome.

Rat considered the woman he had met two days earlier. He had spent the last fourteen years on the peripheries of British aristocratic society, sometimes scorned by it, mostly barely tolerated or ignored. Was the Italian aristocracy much different? Unless it was, he couldn't imagine a character as colourful and eccentric as Luisa being easily accepted. And, for all her seeming outlandishness, Rat sensed an underlying fragility to the woman. Did she long to be embraced by society, or was she happy to be an outcast?

As he continued to read, Rat's instincts were corroborated; Luisa's antics had caused her to be shunned by the Italian aristocracy in Rome and Venice, and her social circle now consisted of bohemians, artists and foreigners. This validated his decision to accompany Melody to the marchesa's party. It also raised the question: was Marchesa Luisa Casati herself someone he should be keeping a watchful eye on?

Based on his brief time with her, it was hard to envision Luisa as a devious, hardened political operative. However, perhaps she had merely adopted the persona of a flighty, hedonistic dilettante as a disguise. Considering such potential machinations made Rat's head spin. Still, he knew that such serpentine behaviour underpinned much international espionage.

Certainly, Melody's burgeoning friendship with the woman was proving useful if only as a way to gain access to Venice's more unconventional social circle. Even as he had this thought, Rat felt guilty at the realisation that he was not only using his sister but potentially putting her in harm's way. He knew that Lord Langley would disapprove, but, at least for the moment, this seemed the only avenue the neophyte intelligence officer felt he had at his disposal. Even if Luisa Casati wasn't an enemy operative, it was certainly possible that a hostile power might be using her soirees as a way to gain influence.

After the adventure-filled morning she'd had with Luisa, Melody was quite content to have a quiet afternoon and evening with Lady Bainbridge. As much as she did appreciate a little less excitement, at least for a few hours, Melody's brain could not switch off from dissecting Antonio Graziano's murder. Through an early, delicious dinner of pasta in what Lady Bainbridge called a pesto sauce, followed by slow-braised lamb shanks, Melody couldn't stop thinking about what the motive for the murder might be.

She had watched Tabby Cat and Wolfie far more closely over the years than either of them realised. Always an observant, astute child, Melody had sat quietly when investigations were being discussed, listening and digesting. One thing that Wolfie had said many times over the years was that one of the first steps in investigating a murder was to discover a motive: Who benefited? Who wanted revenge? Who had a reason to hate the victim?

While Tabitha and Wolf had undoubtedly come across some random acts of violence in their years investigating crimes, it was noteworthy how rare such a situation was. Even when the victims seemed random, as they had many years ago when someone seemed to be mimicking the notorious Jack the Ripper, there was often a method to the murderer's madness. While Melody had only been four when they had solved those murders, Tabitha and Wolf had frequently referred to that case over the years when the choice of victims had appeared to be arbitrary.

Why would someone kill a seemingly harmless old man? One thing that she hadn't even thought to point out to the police inspector was that the killer had to be relatively young and nimble to escape through the window. There had been no chair by it, so the murderer had been able to jump up onto the ledge and escape unaided. A youngish, male, relatively well-heeled killer; it wasn't a lot to go on, but it was a start.

Based on her observations over the years, Melody knew that her first step had to be to learn more about the murder victim. Was he, in fact, a kindly old man, or was there a darker side to the bookseller? She considered the little Luisa had shared about the man. He lived in the Jewish Ghetto and had two sons, but only one, an artist, was still living in Venice. That wasn't a lot. She thought about Granny's rather unconventional friendship with the Jewish East End gangster, Tuchinsky. From what Melody had seen and heard over the years, that community was close-knit. Was the Venice Jewish community similar? Certainly, the city itself was much smaller than London, so it would make sense that people would be more likely to know of each other.

This led to a new dilemma: could she walk the streets of Venice alone? Certainly, this wasn't something Melody would ever think to do in London. Perhaps walking through Mayfair from Chesterton House to Granny's or Lord Langley's, but it would never occur to her to go further afield alone. Perhaps it should have occurred to her, Melody mused. However, that didn't solve her immediate conundrum; she didn't know her way around the labyrinth that Venice appeared to be, and she had no idea what dangers might lurk, particularly in the ominously named Ghetto.

Over a delicious, light chocolate mousse, Melody reflected on her options for companions. Luisa had a gondola at her disposal and clearly knew the city well. However, the woman had not struck Melody as a level-headed companion during the crisis. While she certainly hoped that her questions about Signor Graziano wouldn't be accompanied by any drama, what if they were? Could Luisa be relied upon to help? And then there was her notoriety in Venice. Was that a help or a hindrance? During all these musings, it never occurred to Melody that one of her impediments might be Luisa's willingness to participate. The woman clearly lived her life as if it was one long theatrical production; it seemed likely that a murder mystery would be just the kind of performance she'd enjoy starring in.

Putting Luisa aside as an option, for the time being, Melody considered Xander Ashby. There was no doubt that the infatuated young man would be a willing, even eager companion, but perhaps too eager? The thought of possibly encouraging Xander and putting herself under an obligation to the young Englishman was not appealing. Perhaps he might be a last resort, but definitely not a first choice. That left her with Rat. Was it possible to have her brother accompany her to the Ghetto without telling him why?

Melody had a first-rate mind and certainly was no stranger to manipulating those around her on occasion. Nevertheless, it was hard to imagine how she might persuade her brother to escort her, let her ask the questions she needed to ask, and yet have him none the wiser about why. Perhaps the most obvious answer was to confide in her brother about her plans to investigate. Yet this was the one option that never occurred to Melody.

Rat could see that his sister's attention was not on their dinner conversation, but he put her wool-gathering down to shock from her morning's discovery. Despite her insistence to the contrary, Rat knew that she was an impressionable, sheltered young woman, and it was only to be expected that discovering a dead body and then having to deal with the police had left her subdued. It never occurred to Rat that his sister's inattentiveness was caused by quite a different response to the murder.

Signora Bianchi was as good as her word, even better, in fact. Not only were the costumes for the ball delivered the next afternoon, but they arrived not long after luncheon. Rat had gone out for a stroll, curious to explore their Dorsoduro neighbourhood further. Melody was far too excited to see her outfit to wait for his return. Rossi had delivered the large box to Melody's bedroom, and she bounced on her toes with anticipation as Mary undid the pretty ribbon tied around the elaborately decorated gold and black box.

As Mary lifted the layers of tissue paper, the outfit was revealed. The first thing that Melody saw was an almost shimmering pearl-grey, or maybe more like silver, chiffon. Without even seeing the rest of the gown, Melody could imagine the ethereal effect such a fabric would lend her costume. Melody pulled the dress out of the box and held it up. The bodice was crafted from delicate, silvery lace encrusted with pearls. Filigreed silver chains would loop over her shoulders with lightly gathered silk attached to skim her upper arms. The high-waisted chiffon skirt was all elegant folds and soft draping.

Melody caught her breath. "Oh, Mary, it's beautiful!"

For her part, Mary's first thought was that it was far too revealing and not at all appropriate for an innocent young girl. However, she knew her charge too well to say such a comment out loud. Now, that the dress had been admired so ardently, no force in heaven or hell would dissuade Melody from wearing it to the party. At the bottom of the box lay a delicate silver laurel wreath-shaped headpiece to finish the ensemble. Without even trying the outfit on, Melody could see how beautifully it would suggest a Greek goddess without feeling like a costume. She wondered if Rat's outfit had been designed to complement hers and couldn't wait for the pair of them to cause heads to turn as they entered the party that evening.

Impatient for her brother's return, Melody was tempted to unwrap his outfit and take a quick peek. However, while she didn't know why he so readily agreed to escort her that night, she did know that he was not happy that it was a masquerade party, and she didn't want to give him any excuse to change his mind.

After leaving the palazzo, Rat headed to Campo Santa Margherita. He chose a cafe with tables arranged outside where people were sitting and drinking coffee and wine. Joining them, he sat facing the campo so he could watch the children playing and the locals going about their day.

The campo led up to the university, and there were crowds of young men who looked as if they might be students. Lord Langley had generously offered Rat the opportunity to attend Oxford or Cambridge. While Rat was not at all worried about the educational side of taking up the offer, he had no desire to play the working-class charity case alongside the sons of Britain's wealthy and well-born.

There were other, lesser universities he might have chosen to attend, but even then, he knew he would feel like an interloper. Now, watching the young men engaging in playful banter, Rat had a moment's regret. He had no friends, or at least friends his own age. He had always been close with Bear, Wolf's dearest friend and putative private secretary, but he was more than twenty years older than Rat. If he'd gone to university, would he have found the kind of friendship that Wolf and Bear had shared for almost twenty-five years?

Was Xander Ashby someone he might build that kind of friendship with? Rat wondered. He had often pondered what made Wolf and Bear's friendship so solid and long-lasting. He suspected that many people, in society and beyond, wondered the same thing. One thing he knew for sure and understood better than the people who hadn't known them back in their thief-taking days was that what underpinned their friendship more than anything else was trust and loyalty. There were other things that they each brought to the relationship for sure – Bear's taciturn, yet sensible, nature made him the perfect sounding board – but these were not what had kept this friendship going so long.

So far, Xander seemed friendly, well-informed to be sure, the sort of thoroughly decent chap that Britain's top public schools, like Eton and Harrow, excelled at turning out. Rat did not doubt that Xander was just the kind of man one would want on your cricket team or when crewing a boat down the Thames. So far, Rat liked Xander Ashby well enough. But was ‘well enough' what a lifelong friendship was based on?

Perhaps not every man was destined to have the kind of trusted confidant, and second that Wolf and Bear were to each other, Rat thought with a shrug, before paying for his coffee and rising to return to the palazzo.