‘He was quick to take offence. I would not pick an argument with him.’
‘And what did you think when you heard he had killed his employers?’ asked Jacob.
A man appeared at the door of the kitchen and beckoned Giovanni back inside. The waiter brushed off the ash that had drifted onto his sleeve.
‘I thought everyone else had a lucky escape. Lorenzo Stelli was boiling with anger– hot, hot fury like Vesuvius– and someone was going to get burned.’
Jacob updated the casebook while Dora retired to her room. She was on her monthlies, and though as a doctor he was aware of the mechanics of the process, he was vaguer on the methods women used to pad the flow. Even his bold Dora was reticent when it came to normal bodily functions, as most of his female patients were. She had merely said she needed to get changed and he had not pressed her to stay, despite the fact he really didn’t want to let her out of his sight while the threat still hung over them. Biology, though, trumped even safety concerns.
Jacob dipped his pen in the inkwell. Lorenzo Stelli, a bomb with a lit fuse– that was the impression Jacob had taken away from the helpful waiter. Either he was a convincing actor or a fanatical opponent of Napoleon. His murder of his employers could have been for personal motives– a slight that he felt he must repay or some other grudge– but with the missing report in the middle of this it felt more than ever as if there was a key piece of information lacking to make sense of the crime.
Why would a man who hated Napoleon kill someone who was aiding the allies in the fight against him?
Alternatively, why would an informer for the French, successfully undercover in thecomte’s household, blow that all to smithereens in a fit of temper?
Who else could possibly have been there?
He looked back through Dora’s notes. Lorenzo had been a favourite of the ladies so that suggested he might have been susceptible to a female, someone who could get close enough to kill him and make it look like suicide. Dora had eliminated the female servants as they were down in the hall to see their mistress to the carriage. A woman, or perhaps a man who was trusted like a brother? Italians were more exuberant in their greetings and would hug and touch each other without shame, unlike the English. He added that addendum to the notes. They must not get fixed on looking for a woman.
Alex came in from the street and hung his hat on the hatstand. He took a quick look around the room.
‘How’s Dora?’ he asked.
‘She’s in her room and will return soon.’ Jacob pushed back from the desk. ‘What do you make of all this, Smith? We’ve found out more about the killer. The story he told about himself fits with the idea that he was a disgruntled deserter who hated Napoleon and objected to army discipline.’
‘Most of the ordinary soldiers do, no matter the army,’ said Alex wryly.
‘So why then turn on his employer, the man who had helped him?’
At that moment, Dora rushed back in. ‘Jacob, I’ve had an idea—Oh, Alex, good day to you.’
‘Dora,’ said Alex with a grin. ‘Your idea?’
‘What if Lorenzo snapped because thecomte’s report concluded that Napoleon would thrash the allied armies? Wouldn’t that drive the government to make peace if they losthope of victory? Lorenzo hated the emperor so much that he couldn’t bear it and struck out to silence thecomte.’
That was a thought, though a bad report from a source was unlikely to sway the conduct of the war, no matter how trusted. ‘And thecomtesse?’
‘In his killing frenzy he went for her too– hating them, the world, his fate that brought him to this point.’
‘A murder-suicide?’ asked Alex. ‘As the coroner found?’
‘Exactly,’ said Dora. ‘And Lorenzo wasn’t a French informer, but a hater of Napoleon.’
‘Then why are people after us now?’ asked Jacob.
‘Because the report still exists– because we were right that thecomtewas asking for the highest bidders. It is hidden and everyone is after it. We’ve had the misfortune of stumbling into the skulduggery of international politics resulting from the murders.’ She looked at them both, eyes bright with excitement. He wanted to sweep her off her feet and spin her in a circle, however…
Did it tie all the parts of the mystery together? Jacob wasn’t sure, but it felt like a strong possibility. ‘Well done– that’s a good theory.’
Her face fell. ‘Why, thank you, kind sir,’ she said, deadpan. ‘You don’t sound convinced.’
‘I’m… open to the idea. I think we must test your hypothesis.’
‘How?’ She flopped down into the visitor’s chair that Alex had vacated for her.
‘It would help if we could eliminate the possibility of there being someone else in the house at the time of the murder. If he acted alone, then your idea becomes our front runner. I’d like to go back to Barnes and look at where the suicide took place.’
Dora pulled a face. ‘The maid knows me. I doubt I’d get back inside again. She’ll think I’m vulgarly curious.’
