Chapter 11
Emile took a step back, glancing fearfully from me to Gabriella.
If he believed Gabriella would gush to me that of course Emile had nothing to hide, he was mistaken. She fixed Emile with a steely gaze and waited for him to explain.
“It had nothing to do with Signor Gallo’s death,” Emile said in a rush. “I assure you. I promise.”
“Then why not say you were with Claude last night?” I asked in bafflement. “It might have saved him being arrested.”
“Because he swore me to secrecy.” Emile’s face had gone beet red, rivaling the colors of the deepening sunset. “We swore to each other. None were to know what we did.”
“I fail to see why,” I said. “Drinking wine with your cousin in a disreputable tavern is not grounds for imprisonment. Or even much shame, though I’m certain your mother and Carlotta would disapprove. What time did you arrive at the tavern? Not long after Gallo departed, I assume.”
“A bit after nine, I think,” Emile said in a small voice. “Claude told me he’d argued with Signor Gallo and that the man had run off in a temper.”
Gabriella nodded at me. “Signor Gallo turned up at the comtesse’s at about half past ten. But Claude must have been very worried about his encounter with Signor Gallo to keep it quiet. Or perhaps Claude met him somewhere after that?” she asked Emile.
Emile shook his head adamantly. “No, Claude never saw him again. He and I drank wine in the tavern and then departed. We were together the rest of the night and ended up at home. Neither of us saw Signor Gallo. That is the truth.”
His statement and agitation rang with sincerity.
“I believe you, Emile,” I said. “What I do not understand is why you did not simply state this when Claude was arrested. Or tell me in your note. You thought I’d rush to the gendarmerie and use my powers of persuasion to talk Vernet into releasing Claude, did you not? You never thought I’d speak to Claude, or that he’d break your pact and admit he spent the evening with you. Which he did not, by the way. The tavern keeper told me.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Emile said in misery.
“Most of the time, I would agree that how two gentlemen spend their evenings out is their own business, but this involves a murder,” I said sternly. “Both of you are acting very suspiciously, and Vernet is not completely satisfied. He will continue to pry, and so I must as well. If you confide in me, I can perhaps deflect Vernet’s attentions from you.”
Emile was no fool—he must see how his and Claude’s attempt at secrecy did not exude innocence. I hoped that their vow of silence didn’t have anything to do with clandestine visits to ladies, but I would press Emile, no matter what. Gabriella deserved to know whether she was marrying a libertine.
Gabriella remained firmly beside me. “Please tell us, Emile,” she said quietly.
Emile deflated, shoulders drooping in sorrow and mortification.
“We went to Gallo’s lodgings,” he said in a near whisper. “We knew he would not be there, because Claude had angered him into going to the comtesse’s chateau.”
I heard Gabriella’s intake of breath while I gaped at him.
“Why the devil did you go to his lodgings?” I demanded in amazement. “A moment—if you first made certain that Gallo would not be there, then you must have been seeking something. What?”
Emile’s eyes swam with tears. “Oh, sir, please do not make me tell you.”
“If you do not tell me, I will have to guess, and so will Gabriella. Were you looking for something that would discredit Gallo? And why? I thought Signora Ruggeri was finished with him. She certainly wasn’t happy with him turning up at the chateau.”
“She despises him now, Claude says.” Emile wiped at the tears that continued forming.
“She still speaks to Claude?” I asked. “Is that how he knew she would be trying to enter the comte’s home last night?”
“Yes.” Emile’s voice was cracked. “But no, she was not quite finished with Gallo. She aided him.”
“Aided him in what way? What were you searching for, Emile?” I took the forbidding tone I’d used with my soldiers when they’d tried to hide their transgressions.
Emile sniffled but squared his shoulders. “I did not want you to know this, Gabriella, but I suppose I must be truthful. If you wish to release yourself from me once I tell you, I will understand.” Emile’s words belied the wretchedness that seeped through every syllable.
“Is it so very bad?” Gabriella asked him gently.
“Signor Gallo was threatening my family,” Emile said, so softly I had to lean to hear him. “He said he knew what they had done and could prove it, if they didn’t pay him.”
“That is maddeningly vague,” I said, straightening. “What are they supposed to have done?”
