Free The Venetian Venture by Suzette A. Hill Page A

debts I can’t see this man’s fee being of stupendous help. And even if you do find the thing and get a hundred-guinea suit thrown in, apart from pleasing your vanity that’s not going to take you far; keep the bank manager sweet for a couple of months maybe. But you really need other strings to your bow I should have thought.’
    ‘Thanks so much for the sterling encouragement,’ Edward replied. ‘The point is, as I have explained, if successful this little venture could earn me not just coppers but kudos. It’s an investment. You know the proverbs – from little acorns et cetera, and nothing ventured nothing gained. Sir Whatsit’s taken a shine to me and I’m going to—’
    ‘Exploit the old bugger?’
    Her brother raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘I am not
sure
that you are the one to talk of exploitation. Did pretty well out of your ex, didn’t you? Certainly enough to afford this flat and swan around Venice in Dior suits. Rather took him to the cleaners I seem to recall.’
    ‘I did
not
take him to the cleaners, he owed me the damned stuff and in any case it was what he deserved! And I have only one Dior suit,’ she snapped. ‘As usual you exaggerate.’
    They glowered at each other.
    And then Lucia relaxed. ‘I think we might call a truce,’ she said graciously. ‘I expect you’re tired after your flight and personally I’ve had rather a tedious time being charming to grandfather’s clients. They come to Venice not having clue what they’re supposed to be looking at and he expects me to show them the Guggenheim and explain the paintings. He seems to think that in their gratitude they’ll remember to buy more stuff from him when they’re next in London. It’s such a bore.’
    ‘But he pays you,’ retorted Edward, still nettled by her earlier attitude.
    She pouted. ‘A pittance … Look, I suggest you go and unpack and get yourself straight and then we might go out and have a coffee and decide where to lunch. Nothing heavy mind you, we’re dining with the Canellis this evening.’
    She settled on the sofa and switched on the wireless. It was the weekly programme ‘Tales of Venice’, a mildly amusing hotchpotch of local anecdotes, personal reminiscence, snippets of history and bits of current gossip. But she paid little attention; her mind was elsewhere, i.e. on Guy Hope-Landers. She really quite liked the man, and in view of what he had let drop the other day felt she could get to like him even more. Quitea bit more in fact. Yes definitely worth a try. She stretched out a graceful hand and regarded the ring with some disdain; a paltry little thing really. Angelo had always been mean; but despite their split she wore it anyway – a signora without a ring on her third finger was unheard of! Still, she didn’t want to be stuck with that one all her life … No, not at all. What was the thing Edward had quoted? ‘Nothing ventured nothing gained’? Well at least he was right there she supposed; and like him she could do with a bit of gain!
    She powdered her nose and was about to switch off the wireless when her ear was caught by the last part of the programme’s final item and the jocular tones of the announcer:
    And so, listeners, to claim the million pounds from Signor Farinelli Berenstein his solicitors declare that finders of the genuine Bodger Horace must also produce that distinctive antique vase we were describing earlier: the mauve-and-yellow Murano piece with the scrolled lettering and flawed handle. But remember, ladies and gentlemen, one without the other is like a vintage wine without a corkscrew: useless!’
The compère gave a mocking laugh.
‘Tune in this time next week, my eager friends. And meanwhile enjoy your wanderings in cloud-cuckoo land – or as the English might say, don’t stab your fingers with that needle in a haystack!
    His concluding chuckle was drowned in a blast of dance music.
    Lucia switched off the set. How absurd she thought. But an extraordinary