Deep and Silent Waters

‘I think it was a woman.’

‘A woman?’ He did a double-take. ‘A woman? What makes you think that?’

‘It came to me gradually. I remembered little details in flashes. It was her hands mostly … I must have noticed them subconsciously. Very small thin hands, with red nail varnish.’

‘Doesn’t necessarily follow. I know guys with tiny delicate hands who wear nail varnish.’

‘And I smelt perfume. I knew it. Givenchy.’

‘Guys wear Givenchy, too, honey.’ He was deliberately trying to lighten the atmosphere. She was so pale, desperately vulnerable, without makeup and her hair like spilt amber against the white pillow. The beauty was still there, glowing and untouchable, but the assurance had been wiped out: she looked very young.

‘I know it was a woman, I’m certain it was, there was something … Oh, I can’t put my finger on it, I just know, instinctively.’

‘Female intuition?’ He saw her frown and kissed her palm softly, in apology for teasing her. ‘Okay, I believe you. If your intuition tells you it was a woman, it probably was. You’ve told Bertelli?’

‘Yes, although I’m not sure he believed me. The police forensic team have gone over that cape they found floating in the canal and it seems they got some DNA evidence from that. Hairs, flakes of skin – he said we leave that sort of debris on everything we wear. Horrible idea, isn’t it?’

‘If it can prove who did it, it’s terrific. They’ll be testing the whole crew for a match, then. Damn it. That will take a day or two out of my shooting schedule, and we’re running late enough as it is.’

‘You think it’s one of the crew?’

‘Don’t you? And the police suspect it is. They’re bound to test them first. Who else do you know in Venice?’

Two days later, as she waited for him to come and collect her to take her back to Ca’ d’Angeli, she remembered what he had said. Yes, of course, it had to be someone working on the film. Then a name came into her head. Of a woman she knew, who had reason to hate her.

She shivered. Had it occurred to Sebastian?

&nbs

p; Sebastian was in a ferocious rage because they were having problems filming a vital scene inside Ca’ d’Angeli. The great arc-lights kept burning out and they were running low on power packs; a bitter winter wind was blowing through Venice, making the electricity surge and howling through the high-ceilinged rooms, interfering with the sound recording.

The sound man threw up his hands in despair. ‘It’s worse than aircraft noises – at least they fade into the distance after a while, but this stops and starts again without warning.’

Count Niccolo, in a heavy black leather coat, appeared at the top of the stairs and picked his way through the cables and equipment towards Sebastian, who gave him a heavy nod.

‘Looking for me?’

‘A water-taxi just arrived for you.’

Sebastian groaned, ran a hand through his hair. ‘Damn it to hell! I’d forgotten I ordered it.’

‘If you cancel now he’ll still want paying,’ Niccolo told him drily, and went through a door into the private wing of the palazzo.

‘Shall I go down and give him some money?’ asked Valerie, as always at Sebastian’s side, notepad in hand, her audio recorder and a mike clipped to her leather belt.

‘No, hang on, let me think. I promised Laura I’d pick her up, but I must finish shooting this scene. We can’t afford to get any further behind schedule.’

‘Shall I go and get her?’ Valerie offered.

Sidney and Carmen glanced sideways at each other.

Unaware of them, Sebastian sighed. ‘Well, maybe that would be best. Thanks, Valerie. Explain, won’t you? Tell her I’m sorry, I tried, but I just couldn’t make it. She’s a pro, she’ll understand. Oh, and pile a few cushions and blankets into the taxi to make sure she has a comfortable ride. We don’t want her wound opening again.’

Sidney shaped words silently in Carmen’s direction and she walked over to Sebastian. ‘You’ll be needing Valerie. Why don’t I go? I’d love to.’

‘You’re needed here. Just do your job, will you? I’ll go,’ Valerie told her sharply, then walked off fast, a thin, energetic figure in a warm sweater and dark grey wool pants tucked into calf-high black boots.

Carmen went back to Sidney. ‘I couldn’t very well insist,’ she whispered. ‘Should we talk to Sebastian?’