The Jewels of Paradise by Donna Leon Read Free Book Online Page B

afraid.” But before they went in, she pointed to the near corner and asked, “What happened to that palazzo ?” As Caterina remembered, the building, like Steffani’s chests were now, had been at the center of a contested inheritance, but in this case rumor said it concerned not first and second cousins but first and second wives, a far more deadly game.
    “A hotel,” Roseanna said, making no attempt to disguise her disgust. “They hacked it up inside and brought in cheap imitation furniture, and now tourists can tell themselves they’re staying in a real Venetian palazzo .” She pushed open the door and went into the bar. Caterina saw that there was no place to sit and delighted in the fact. She had had enough of gemütlich coffeehouses with velvet benches and whipped cream everywhere: alongside the strudel, inside the cakes, on top of the coffee. Here a person stood, drank a coffee in one swift gulp, and went back to the business of the day.
    Roseanna called the barman by name and asked for two coffees, which arrived almost instantly and were as quickly consumed. Roseanna said nothing, nor did Caterina; so much for the idea of an intimate conversation. When they were back outside, Caterina glanced at her watch and saw it was a bit after eleven, so she turned left and headed toward the bridge that would take them back to the Foundation. “You still haven’t told me about the treasure,” she said, deciding that push had come to shove.
    Roseanna, walking beside her, nodded, then surprised her by saying, “I know. It’s so crazy I’m almost embarrassed to talk about it. And I don’t know how much you’re supposed to be told.”
    Caterina stopped before the bridge and pulled Roseanna to the right to keep her out of the way of the people passing by. “Roseanna, I know who it’s all about, and I know what sort of men the cousins are, and now you’ve told me there’s some sort of treasure. It doesn’t take much imagination to understand that’s why they’re so interested in the trunks and the papers.” Suddenly tired of all the secrecy, she spoke before she thought. “What do they think the other applicants who didn’t get the job are doing? Not telling people about all of this?”
    As often happened with her, the more she thought about the situation, the more her anger grew. What in God’s name do these fools think is in the trunks, the manuscript of Monteverdi’s lost Arianna ? A missing papal tiara? Saint Veronica’s veil?
    Roseanna started to speak but Caterina ignored her. “You’re the one who mentioned it, who used the word treasure . I didn’t. So tell me what this is all about.” Her heart was pounding, sweat stood on her forehead, but she stopped because she realized there was no threat she could make. She needed the job, and she realized the scholar she had once been was curious to follow the paper trail that led back to Steffani.
    Roseanna moved away from her as from a source of heat that had become uncomfortable, but she made no attempt to go back across the bridge. She pursed her lips and looked down at her shoes, shifted her bag from one shoulder to the other, moving it to the side away from Caterina. “First, let me tell you there were no other applicants. Only you.”
    “Then why did they tell me there were?” Caterina all but bleated.
    “Capitalism,” Roseanna said and smiled.
    “What?”
    “To beat your price down.” She smiled after she said it, and Caterina saw the force of her logic. “If you thought there were a lot of people after the job, you’d be willing to let them pay you less than you’re worth.”
    Caterina raised a hand to cover her face from the embarrassment of it.
    Roseanna reached over and latched her arm into Caterina’s; she turned toward the bridge, pulling Caterina along beside her. “All right,” she said. “I’ll tell you what I think is happening.”
    The story she told was at times unclear, her telling of it filled with backups and