filled the composerâs wineglass and patted him sympathetically on the shoulder.
Caruso tried again. âHow could Elvira murder the girl if she was not there?â
âDavila says she did not administer the poison herselfâshe is supposed to have hired someone to do it for her. Davila says he has letters she wrote arranging the whole thing.â
âYou have seen these letters?â
âHe showed me one. Elvira did not write that letter, Caruso, no question of it. But it looks just enough like her handwriting that it might succeed in deceiving people who are not so familiar with her writing as I am. But it is not her writing. Besides, Elvira is not stupidâshe would never put something like that down on paper. And then sign her full name? Preposterous. The letters are forged, and Davila knows I know they are forged. But they could still convict Elvira! He has me. I cannot risk even the accusation. They convicted her once before, in Torre del Lago.â
âBut that was for defamation, not murder!â
âIt makes no difference. You know how I got Elvira out of itâby paying off Doriaâs family? The good people of Torre del Lago feel cheated. They would love nothing more than a second chance at my wife.â
Caruso jumped up again and started pacing the floor. He had trouble believing what was happening. And all because of that Luigi Davila! What kind of worm would take advantage of such a terrible tragedy to extort money from a man? How low, how vile! What to do, what to do? âDo you trust him to keep quiet if you pay him off?â he asked Puccini.
âHe does not want to be paid off . He wants to be paid, and paid, and paid. He made it quite clear I am to see he lives in comfort for the rest of his days. Luigi Davila is a vampireâhe will suck me dry.â
Wide-eyed, Ugo poured himself a glass of wine and drank it down fast.
âThis you cannot agree to,â Caruso said in dismay. âSpend the rest of your life supporting that ⦠that leech . Impossible.â
âBut what else can I do?â Puccini groaned. âI cannot let Elvira go to prison for a crime she didnât commitâshe might even be hanged!â
âDoes she know anything about this?â
âNo, and you are not to tell her, Caruso.â
âOf course not, of course not. But we must think of what to do!â
âIâve thought and Iâve thought, but there is nothing.â
They mulled it over for a while, getting nowhere, not able to think of any possible line of action.
âOnce again you have gotten me to talk, Caruso,â Puccini smiled sadly. âAnd I must tell you, I am grateful. I did want to tell somebodyâit is a terrible burden to bear alone. But Caruso, you must mention this to no one elseâno one at all.â
âI say nothing, I give you my word.â Then they both remembered the third man in the room.
Ugo held up his hands, palms outward. âI do not repeat one word of what I hear. I promise. I tell no one.â
âNot even Martino and Mario,â Caruso ordered.
âEspecially not Martino and Mario,â Ugo agreed. âMartino talks too much, and Mario does not talk enough.â
Caruso didnât quite follow that, but decided this wasnât the time to pursue it. A little later Puccini left, after promising to keep Caruso informed. The tenor continued his pacing, thinking.
âUgoâyou know this Luigi Davila, donât you?â
âI am not sure.â
âYou were there once or twice when he wanted me to sign a contractâoh, you know, he is the one who tried to bribe Martino! Do you remember him?â
Ugo squinted his eyes. âPink and fat?â
âThatâs the one! Ugo, I want you to find out where he lives. Or where his office isâif he has an office.â
âHow do I do that?â
Caruso glared at him; he hadnât thought that far ahead.