Free The Jewels of Paradise by Donna Leon Page B

right,” he agreed. “Once the trunks have been opened, we’re agreed that Dottoressa Pellegrini can stay alone in the room.”
    “Then I work upstairs?”
    “Yes, that’s the room where the work will be done,” Dottor Moretti said. “It’s got the storeroom, and there’s a wireless connection.”
    “Why is that?” Caterina asked Roseanna, remembering that the stolen computer had been on this floor.
    Looking not unembarrassed, Roseanna said, “Well, it doesn’t exactly belong to the Foundation.”
    “ Exactly ?” Caterina asked. “Then whose is it?”
    Her embarrassment grew stronger. “I don’t know.”
    “Don’t tell me it’s someone else’s Wi-Fi you’re piggybacking on?” Caterina demanded.
    “Yes.”
    “Do you think that’s safe?” She did not bother to ask what would happen if the line were to disappear or be secured by its legal owner.
    The smile was not present in Roseanna’s shrug. “I have no idea. But it’s the only line we have. Dottor Asnaldi used it and there was no trouble at all.”
    Trouble came from Signor Scapinelli, who broke in to say, “We’re not paying for any of those things. You give her a computer, you figure out how she can use it.” Then, with undisguised contempt, “This place doesn’t even have a telephone.”
    “And the computer doesn’t leave that room, either,” Signor Stievani broke in to add.
    Caterina turned toward the sound of their voices and, after allowing her anger a few seconds to dissipate, said quite pleasantly, “I’m perfectly content to use that connection. And the computer can stay here all the time. After all, what sort of secrets can be in papers that are hundreds of years old?”

Eight
    S OON AFTER THIS DECISION WAS MADE, C ATERINA NOTICED that both cousins grew restless. First Stievani looked at his watch, and then Scapinelli did. It took her but a moment to understand. They were afraid that if this went on much longer they might be expected to go to lunch with these people or, worse, be expected to take them to lunch. Dottor Moretti must have read the signs at the same time, for he looked at his watch and said, speaking in general to everyone at the table, “I hope we’ve made all of the major decisions that concern us.”
    He looked around and saw four nodding heads. Addressing them all, he said, “Then perhaps we can remove ourselves to the upper floor and see to opening the chests.” There was no reason for Caterina to be surprised by this, but she was. Though everything she had done since coming back to Venice had been aimed at this goal, she was still unprepared to hear it announced. The chests would be opened, she would see the papers—the putative papers—she would hold them in her hands, and she would be surprised, of course she would be surprised, to learn that they were the papers of Agostino Steffani, composer and bishop, musician and diplomat.
    They got to their feet. At the door, the two cousins were careful to see that Dottor Moretti stood between them. Stievani went first, the lawyer next, and then Signor Scapinelli. Women and children last.
    Dottor Moretti led them only as far as the door to the stairway that led to the upper floor, where he waited for Roseanna to come and unlock the door. This done, she stepped aside to allow the men to pass in front of her in the same order, after which she and Caterina followed them upstairs. The procedure was repeated at the door to the director’s office.
    Inside, Roseanna went to the metal doors of the storeroom and dealt with the three separate locks—Caterina had failed to notice the third lock set almost at floor level. With no ceremony whatsoever, Roseanna pulled open the two metal doors and stepped back to allow the others to see the chests that stood, one behind the other, the back one about twenty centimeters taller than the one in front, in the closet-sized storeroom. Caterina had seen scores of similar trunks like them in antiques shops and museums: unadorned