Free Deadly to the Sight by Edward Sklepowich

own direct impressions of the lace maker, if she hadn’t rushed on in a torrent of impassioned words.
    â€œI saw deep into her soul, I tell you! It was dark, dark, dark! Don’t I have the ability to see things for what they really are? You’re the one with your head in the clouds! You’re the one who can be as blind as a bat, whatever good your intelligence gets you. And your—your lotus days have done you not one iota of good, my friend, not one iota!”
    Urbino was not surprised to have become the recipient of the Contessa’s vitriol. It wasn’t that he felt he deserved it, but that she believed he did. He took a sip of his sherry and waited.
    â€œTell me, caro ,” she said after a few moments, with all trace of irascibility now gone, “do you have any plans for dinner?”
    It was less a question than an appeal, and even less of an appeal than an olive branch.
    â€œNo plans that I can’t break for you.”
    â€œI do feel encouraged! I hope I’m not twisting your arm.”
    â€œYou have my blind devotion, bat-like or otherwise.”
    â€œYou’re the prince of smirkers. Don’t try to humor me. It won’t work this time. The state of my nerves—”
    The Contessa broke off when Vitale and Silvia came into the room in answer to her bell. She made strained, innocuous conversation in the ensuing minutes, while the table was tended to.
    â€œThe state of my nerves,” the Contessa smoothly resumed as soon as Vitale had closed the door behind them, “is far beyond either your delightful humor or this sherry.”
    She nonetheless took a sip of the rich golden liquid before continuing.
    â€œNina Crivelli knows something about Alvise that she believes is damaging enough for me to want to pay her a large sum. She’s making very obvious insinuations! It couldn’t be more simple and more devastating!”
    â€œBut she didn’t even mention Alvise’s name.”
    â€œAh, caro , even old women from Burano,” she said with a cool air, as if a vast gulf of age and distance divided her from the lace maker, “even they have their subtlety! Do you think she’d breathe anything against Alvise? Do you think she’d give me any reason to accuse her of such a vile thing? Sometimes I think when you see a woman of a certain age—of a very advanced certain age, I should add—your filial instincts overcome you. Stop seeing the mother in them or, if you absolutely must, then admit that even mothers can—can”—she searched for the damning word: “blackmail!” She finished with obvious satisfaction.
    The Contessa’s reference to mothers reminded Urbino of what Nina Crivelli had said to him on the motoscafo yesterday about his devotion to his.
    He got up. He needed what the Contessa called one of his meditative turns around the room as the two of them looked as squarely as they could at Crivelli’s behavior in Santa Maria Formosa and as he silently ran through his mind his conversation with her.
    â€œBut how do you know she meant Alvise?” he brought out from the window with a view of the little bridge.
    â€œI know, I know, I know!”
    â€œIt may be good enough for you, Barbara, but not for me. As I remember, and as I am sure you’re thinking, you’ve been through something like this before. We’ve been through it together.”
    â€œThank you for the we . Yes, you’re right. I’m thinking of that summer.”
    â€œAnd it came to nothing.”
    They were referring to a difficult period of the Contessa’s life that Urbino had helped her through, when she had had to confront the possibility that Alvise had cruelly deceived her.
    â€œNothing, you say! What about a murder!”
    â€œI mean that it came to nothing insofar as Alvise was concerned, and my instincts tell me the same thing now.” He thought for a few moments. “What was Giorgio