Black Bridge by Edward Sklepowich Page B

might abruptly leave the shelter of the pergola to find him eavesdropping, he returned along the pebbled path to the lower level and sat in a wicker chair. After five minutes Quimper and Moss appeared. Quimper was the first to see Urbino.
    â€œMonsieur Macintyre! I wish we knew you were here! You could have given us a tour.” She touched one of the stone Turks. “Gardens come as such a pleasant surprise in Venice. Do you have one? If it’s anything like this one, you’re very fortunate. I have only a little patch of ground off my kitchen in London but back in Paris I had a lovely garden.”
    She seemed about to continue, if only because she didn’t know how to stop, when Moss, his face still in the shadows, reminded her that they had to be on their way.
    When Urbino came through the doors of the salone , a low buzz of concerned voices had replaced the music, and the musicians and guests were staring at the far end of the room. There, a knot of people had formed. Among them was the Contessa, looking very distressed. Urbino hurried over. Gava lay prostrate on the floor near a broken water goblet, his eyes closed and his face colorless. An elderly physician from Padua, one of the Contessa’s guests, was kneeling by Gava’s side. Peppino looked down at the scene from a chair covered with his mistress’s reversed cape.
    â€œI—I just gave him a drink of water and he collapsed,” Festa said.
    â€œHe has asthma and emphysema, just like his sister had,” Bobo said.
    The physician loosened Gava’s tie and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. He waved away a glass of water brought by Flint.
    â€œOh, I hope he didn’t eat any of the shrimp or drink red wine, Signora Festa!” said Harriet, almost as white as Gava. “People with his condition are usually severely allergic to them, aren’t they, Doctor? Iodine and sulfites.”
    Festa glared at her.
    â€œIt is close in here,” Bobo said. “Perhaps the incense choked him up. It was doing the same to you, Harriet.”
    â€œOh, I hope it wasn’t my incense!” the Contessa lamented. “Harriet, call an ambulance.”
    Before rushing off, Harriet thrust a large envelope into Urbino’s hand.
    Gava regained consciousness and tried to raise his head. He looked confusedly at the faces peering down at him. He focused on Bobo.
    â€œRosa, my dear sister,” he said before passing out again. “I’m coming.”
    12
    The next morning, after the Contessa called to tell him that Gava was doing fairly well and was recuperating in his room at the Flora, Urbino went to the Teatro del Ridotto to inquire about the threat left in the foyer.
    â€œIt had to be before seven,” the theater manager said. “The box office attendant noticed it when he returned from a break. I called the police immediately. We’ve added an extra guard for the rest of the Barone’s run.”
    Urbino next went to the Doges’ Palace with the Barone’s publicity photograph. The guard took one quick look at it and shook his head.
    â€œNothing like the man.”
    He handed the photograph back.
    â€œAre you sure? This is about ten years old but the man looks very much the same.”
    â€œHe’s not the one who was here. Excuse me. I have to make my circuit.”
    Urbino slipped the photograph back in the envelope. The guard’s response puzzled him. He had been too abrupt in dismissing the photograph and no longer seemed to want to talk about the incident.
    Urbino wouldn’t have had any doubts if the guard had identified the Barone. Was this because he was convinced that Bobo had been at the Doges’ Palace or because he was so biased against him that he wanted him to have been?
    He could see two rocks looming dangerously in the waters of his inquiries. One was his friendship with the Contessa, for whom he would do almost anything. The other was his dislike of the Barone. But