An hour later the admiral was back. 'Not Marco Valdosta. His brother.'
* * *
Benito was struggling to wake up. Having his room at Dorma--which he'd been back in for less than two hours--invaded by Petro, another Signor di Notte, and two Schiopettieri was something of a shock.
It was even more of a shock when they wanted to know where the hell he'd been last night.
They didn't find his refusal to answer at all satisfactory.
'Benito Valdosta. I must ask you to dress and come with us,' said the salt-and-pepper-haired ex-admiral turned Signor di Notte. 'You will be charged with the murder of Bishop Pietro Capuletti.'
* * *
'Ha!' Kat's grandfather came into the breakfast salon, where Kat was picking at a bowl of frumenty. 'I told you, girl! Blood will out! They've arrested that damned Valdosta boy for murder!'
Kat's chair went flying. The fragile bowl was dropped, shattering on the fine intarsia floor as she leapt to her feet. She felt blood drain from her face. 'What?'
The old man rubbed his hands in glee, ignoring the destruction. 'That Valdosta-pig. I went to see Dourso this morning. Just checking things out for you, girl. And he was just on his way to arrest Marco Valdosta. For the murder of Bishop Pietro Capuletti. Ha!'
'Did you do this?' she demanded furiously. 'Did you engineer this, Grandpapa?'
Lodovico Montescue shook his leonine old head. 'I wish it were my doing. But they'll have his head, anyway,' he said with great satisfaction.
Kat stared at him. 'He wasn't even born when you had your stupid fight! You crazy old man! He doesn't even know who you are!' She stormed out.
'Katerina! Where are you going?' He hurried after her as fast as his old legs could manage.
Over her shoulder, Kat snapped: 'To hand myself over to the justices at the Doge's palazzo, for murdering Bishop Capuletti.'
'Stop, Katerina! You can't do tha--' His voice was cut off by the great front door closing. A passing gondolier answered her hail. And Kat, in a turmoil of emotion, set off to rescue Marco.
* * *
Marco Valdosta stared incredulously at his brother-in-law. 'You just let them take him away?'
Petro threw up his hands helplessly. 'He has witnesses. A Ferrara-made knife with house tassels. I'll swear it's not Benito's. But it looks bad. And then your brother refuses to say where he was last night.'
Marco steepled his long slim fingers. 'Ten to one he'll have been doing something for Caesare Aldanto. Probably with Maria.'
Dorma leaned forward. 'Who is this Maria?'
There was no sense in pulling punches. 'She's a canal-girl--the one who was abducted by the Dandelos. She lives with Caesare Aldanto. He's worth asking about this. If anyone will help Benito, it's him.'
'I'll have some of my people go out and fetch him.' He stopped Marco's reply. 'You will stay right here, Marco. Under my eye. You'll accompany me to hear the galliot captain address the Senate at midday. You will be seen. This is intended as an attack on Dorma. I wish I knew by whom.'
Marco shook his head. 'The knife is too obvious, Petro. Why would he leave it behind?'
'Exactly,' said Petro. 'But they'll claim it was wrestled from his grasp by the dying man.'
Marco took a deep breath. 'Who are these witnesses, Petro? And tell me about this knife.'
'By the description, the knife is one with the main gauche you and Benito carry. As for the witnesses, it's a Filippo Recchia and Vittorio Toromelli. Boys from respectable rising families.'
