078 The Phantom Of Venice by Carolyn Keene Read Free Book Online Page A

something to think about.”
    She was pensive again for a moment before asking, “Where is Pietro’s flat located, by the way?”
    “Here on Murano, on the other side of the island.”
    “Will you be leaving the plant at closing time?”
    “Nope, not for a while. We’re going to shut down some of the furnaces. I’ve been acting as Pietro’s assistant lately, so they expect me to oversee the job.”
    Nancy would have been glad to wait, had Don offered to show her Pietro’s flat afterward. But he gave no sign of taking the hint, which left her no alternative but to thank him for his time and help, and say goodbye.
    “Think you can find your way back to the boat landing?”
    “I hope so. If not, I’m sure someone will direct me.”
    Weary and a trifle depressed, Nancy sailed back to Venice. Thoughts crowded her mind as she stood at the rail of the vaporetto. The lagoon was dotted with boats and its waters gleamed peacefully in the fading, late afternoon sun. A sleek white cruiseliner was rounding the eastern tip of Venice en route to the Canale di San Marco, where it would drop anchor.
    What a day it had been, far more eventful than she’d ever expected! And now it was ending on a note of frustration. Nancy was conscious of a faint, lingering resentment toward Don Madison. Why hadn’t he been more willing to help her follow through on her investigation of Pietro Rinaldi?
    No, that’s not fair, she chided herself. Who knew how long and sweaty a job he might have ahead of him at the plant? And when he did knock off, why should she expect him to put himself out for her sake?
    All the same, she thought crossly, his manner might have been a little more gracious!
    Getting off the vaporetto, she found a water-taxi to take her back to the palazzo. I wonder what the back of the palace is like? Nancy mused idly as they cruised along. Maybe this would be a good time to explore.
    Her boatman-driver seemed to understand English quite well. When Nancy told him what she had in mind, he nodded. “No problem, Signorina. I show you how to get there.”
    Minutes later, he steered his motoscafo into a narrow side-canal and, after giving her detailed directions, let her off near one of the little humpbacked bridges. Nancy thanked him with a smile and a generous tip and started off on foot through an arched passageway facing the bridge.
    It led her into a paved street, which widened into a broad, tree-shaded campo, or square. On one side of the square stood an ancient church; on the other, a grilled gateway.
    The gateway opened into the courtyard of the Palazzo Falcone. It was a lovely spot filled with the fragrance of plants and flowering vines—clematis, rambling roses, oleander and honeysuckle. Crumbling statues added a picturesque touch.
    Several people were seated on wrought-iron garden furniture in the flagstoned center of the courtyard. The Marchese and his guests were enjoying an aperitif in the open air.
    “Welcome back, my dear!” said the Marchese. “Will you not join us?”
    Nancy gratefully sat down and accepted a lemonade after a smiling exchange with her father and Katrina van Holst. She was also introduced to two new arrivals at the palazzo, Signor and Signora Gatti.
    “Your visit to Murano was interesting, I trust?” her host inquired politely.
    “Very much so. I even learned a little about glass-making.” Nancy displayed the rainbow-hued paperweight she had bought for her Aunt Eloise. “I also saw those beautiful mythological animals your plant is now producing.”
    “Ah, si, our Venetian bestiary! Marvelous creatures, are they not? We have great hopes for them in the export market, which is one reason why Signor Gatti is here, in addition to attending our masked ball.”
    Ezio Gatti was a bulky man with a sharp beak of a nose and beady eyes—rather sinister-looking, Nancy thought—but with a warm, jovial manner that totally belied his appearance. A successful exporter, he said he was already getting a