A Cadenza for Caruso by Barbara Paul Read Free Book Online

filled the composer’s wineglass and patted him sympathetically on the shoulder.
    Caruso tried again. “How could Elvira murder the girl if she was not there?”
    â€œDavila says she did not administer the poison herself—she is supposed to have hired someone to do it for her. Davila says he has letters she wrote arranging the whole thing.”
    â€œYou have seen these letters?”
    â€œHe 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 stupid—she 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€œBut that was for defamation, not murder!”
    â€œIt makes no difference. You know how I got Elvira out of it—by paying off Doria’s family? The good people of Torre del Lago feel cheated. They would love nothing more than a second chance at my wife.”
    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? “Do you trust him to keep quiet if you pay him off?” he asked Puccini.
    â€œHe 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 vampire—he will suck me dry.”
    Wide-eyed, Ugo poured himself a glass of wine and drank it down fast.
    â€œThis you cannot agree to,” Caruso said in dismay. “Spend the rest of your life supporting that … that leech . Impossible.”
    â€œBut what else can I do?” Puccini groaned. “I cannot let Elvira go to prison for a crime she didn’t commit—she might even be hanged!”
    â€œDoes she know anything about this?”
    â€œNo, and you are not to tell her, Caruso.”
    â€œOf course not, of course not. But we must think of what to do!”
    â€œI’ve thought and I’ve thought, but there is nothing.”
    They mulled it over for a while, getting nowhere, not able to think of any possible line of action.
    â€œOnce again you have gotten me to talk, Caruso,” Puccini smiled sadly. “And I must tell you, I am grateful. I did want to tell somebody—it is a terrible burden to bear alone. But Caruso, you must mention this to no one else—no one at all.”
    â€œI say nothing, I give you my word.” Then they both remembered the third man in the room.
    Ugo held up his hands, palms outward. “I do not repeat one word of what I hear. I promise. I tell no one.”
    â€œNot even Martino and Mario,” Caruso ordered.
    â€œEspecially not Martino and Mario,” Ugo agreed. “Martino talks too much, and Mario does not talk enough.”
    Caruso didn’t quite follow that, but decided this wasn’t the time to pursue it. A little later Puccini left, after promising to keep Caruso informed. The tenor continued his pacing, thinking.
    â€œUgo—you know this Luigi Davila, don’t you?”
    â€œI am not sure.”
    â€œYou were there once or twice when he wanted me to sign a contract—oh, you know, he is the one who tried to bribe Martino! Do you remember him?”
    Ugo squinted his eyes. “Pink and fat?”
    â€œThat’s the one! Ugo, I want you to find out where he lives. Or where his office is—if he has an office.”
    â€œHow do I do that?”
    Caruso glared at him; he hadn’t thought that far ahead.