Free The Stargazer by Michele Jaffe

man was gone, leaving only his cape behind. Ian slung the garment over his shoulders as protection against the suddenly chilly air and began to move slowly over the roof tiles toward his house. Since he had made off with Bianca’s drawings, the man had obviously been looking for evidence of Isabella’s presence. But how could he have known the body had been there? Or even that there was a body? Ian had kept the news of Isabella’s murder from the Arboretti, from everyone except those who had to know, Francesco, Roberto, and Giorgio. He had kept the laboratory locked the entire time the body was there so that none of his staff might stumble on it by accident. Only five people—himself, his uncles, Giorgio, and Bianca—knew about the body, so clearly one of them had told someone. He could vouch for the security of the first four, but Bianca was unguessable. Yet she had been under constant surveillance since she arrived. She could not have communicated anything to anyone from his house. Unless…
    Unless this was her conspirator. Unless she had planned this from the beginning, planned to get into his house with the body. The dagger had been only the smallest element of the frame she had arranged for him. She had intended for him to find her with the body, to move her into his house, so she would have ample opportunity to fabricate even more evidence of his guilt. Of course! And tonight’s escapade had been orchestrated well in advance. The two conspirators must have agreed on a time to enter the house, Bianca’s clumsy approach drawing Ian’s attention away from the intruder upstairs, who would be busy planting evidence. But Ian had foiled their scheme by breaking in on him, and the accomplice had been forced to flee. He must have taken Bianca’s papers as a cover, or perhaps they contained some instructions for him. Anatomical drawings indeed! The devious, conniving, murderous slut. But the pair of them would not succeed, Ian swore to himself. They would not outsmart him.
    He began to move more quickly, struck by the thought that Bianca might have tried to escape when she saw all her plans unraveling. His blood was boiling with anger and exertion by the time he approached his own rooftop. Fueled by the strength of his emotions, he leapt easily from his neighbor’s roof, catching the windowsill of Bianca’s laboratory with his hands. He hauled himself into the room, half-expecting to find it empty.
    At first it appeared to be. A single candle sat on the table at the center, flickering unevenly as the night breezes entered the room. Bianca’s tools were still littered around the floor, all the drawers and chests turned upside down. From the corner of the room Ian heard a sound, a small sound, something like a whimper. There, huddled in a ball and clutching something, was a creature. It took him a moment to identify the weeping mass as the wily criminal he had just been castigating in his thoughts. Bianca looked anything but devious as the tears rolled down her cheeks and over the object in her hands. Given the way he felt about crying women, Ian was tempted to step back out the window until she was done, but then he realized that this was the first time he had seen her shed a tear since she had been with him, and it certainly had not been an easy courtship up to this point. He was momentarily puzzled, wondering what had triggered it, when it occurred to him that it was probably just a ploy for sympathy, to mask her conspirator’s flubbed attempt.
    “Very tidy, Signorina Salva, trying to get me killed this way. I suppose after the first murder they get easier?” Ian’s tone was harsh, his words cutting.
    Bianca raised her eyes from the instrument held tightly in her hands, noting Ian’s presence for the first time. She heard neither his words nor his tone, her attention riveted by the streams of blood trickling down his cut legs. She moved to stand, to find her bandages among the wreck of her instruments, but felt