I mounted the next flight of stairs and up the side staircase in search of Grenville and Gian. They proved to be in the collection room, Gian holding a bronze statuette, a primitive carving of an upright man.
“Etruscan,” he was saying to Grenville. “Very ancient. My father had several Etruscan pieces. Scholars came to study them,” he finished proudly.
“Do many scholars visit here?” I asked in curiosity.
Gian swung to me, startled, as though he hadn’t heard me approach. “Not often. But they travel from England and France from time to time. The conte had antiquities and books as well.”
“Can you tell me about the conte’s family?” I asked. “Besides yourself, I mean.”
Gian’s teeth flashed in a smile, and I saw a younger version of de Luca in him. “I do not mind that I am not his lawful son. The conte raised me from a boy, as soon as he discovered my existence. My mother had died, and my grandmother had the care of me, but she wanted nothing to do with me. The conte paid her handsomely and took me away, and my grandmother did not regret seeing me go. She’s dead now too. I grew up here, taking care of the conte while he took care of me. It was just the two of us.”
Very kindhearted of de Luca, I thought, but perhaps he’d been delighted to find he’d had a son. Love did not need legal ties to be real. “He never married?”
“No, no. He loved the ladies but did not wish to marry. As far as I know, I was his only offspring. He had no brothers or sisters. Only the cousin, Gregorio, who will be the conte now. They did not get on.” Gian’s shoulders slumped. “He will come to take possession of the house soon, I imagine.”
“Perhaps he’ll keep you on,” I said. “I’m certain no one knows this house as you do.”
“I will not work for Gregorio.” Gian’s answer held anger. “I assisted my father because he was my family. I know the cousin is my family too, by blood, but I do not think he will regard me so.”
“I beg your pardon,” I said. “I wish I could help.”
Gian gave me a bow. “You are kind. But nothing can help.” His eyes filled again, and he swiped his hand across them.
“We’ll leave you alone now, my dear fellow.” Grenville gently lifted the bronze from Gian’s fingers and replaced it on a nearby shelf. “You have my condolences on your loss.”
“Thank you.” Gian sniffled.
“Of course,” Grenville said quietly. He signaled to me that we should go, and I began to follow him out.
At the door, I turned back. “One more thing, Gian, and then I will disturb you no more. Did you or the conte keep an inventory of his collection? Or lists of people he purchased things from or purchased things for?”
Gian went rigid, and his tears dried. “Why do you wish to know that?”
I shrugged, as though I did not care one way or another. “Thought it might help you sort things out.”
Gian wiped his eyes again. “I do not know. I will hunt.”
I noticed that when Gian wanted to be evasive, his grasp of English waned. He’d spoken quite eloquently about the conte’s fondness for him, but as soon as he grew worried, his sentences became short and blunt.
I gave Gian a nod. “Good day to you, sir. If you have need of assistance, send word to us at Grenville’s lodgings.”
“Thank you.”
Again, the words were stilted. Grenville and I at last took our leave, saying nothing as we descended the stairs through the silent house and exited via the jumbled foyer and the now empty courtyard, and emerged onto the street.
Brewster appeared through a side door as though he’d been watching for us, and fell into step as we turned south through the lanes.
“Do you think Gian killed him, then?” Brewster asked me.
“He could have,” I admitted. “He could have returned home much sooner than he claims. De Luca wouldn’t have had reason to fear him. I am certain he’d readily turn away from Gian without worry. Did the cook tell you anything more?”
“Naw. Just repeated that he went home and saw no one.”
“The woman who cleans might know something as well,” I said.
“If you ask her, be careful,” Brewster said. “These people don’t like the police. The only reason the cook opened up as much as he did is because I’mnotpolice, and I don’t like them either.”
“I don’t blame them,” I said. If the police were wont to lock someone in a jail without hope of trial, I’d avoid them myself. “It would be helpful to have an interpreter if I need to question them further.”
