The Seventh Sinner - Elizabeth Peters [33]
“You are sure?” Jacqueline’s voice sounded odd, and di Cavallo peered at her through the shrouding darkness.
“Very little in this world is sure, Signora Kirby—as I think you, like myself, have learned through painful experience. But I am as sure as I am ever sure…. There are only a few loose ends. For example, this story of a theft.”
“Who told you about that?”
“Padre Ximenez. He disapproves of me, as I do of him, but we respect one another. He pointed out to me that the accusation of theft must have been directed at one of your small group of friends, since Gébara knew none of the other guests.”
“Yes, but that didn’t mean anything. Nobody stole anything from Albert. He didn’t have anything worth stealing.”
“So one might conclude from the poverty of his belongings. Your friends agree that he never mentioned any particular treasure before last night…. The Seven Sinners,” di Cavallo said musingly. “Very quaint…You did say, signorina, that the symbol written by the dying man was the number seven?”
For a second, Jean’s breath stopped. Then she recovered herself.
“Would it be contempt of court or something if I said ‘damn you,’ Lieutenant?”
“It would only be very rude,” said di Cavallo calmly.
“Yes, I did see him write that, and I stick to my story. But if this is suicide, the Seven Sinners can’t have anything to do with Albert’s dying message.”
“I cannot see how,” di Cavallo agreed. “If this were not so obvious a case—if there were any suspicion of foul play…Even then, I cannot see that there is a clue in that number. Because in a group of seven, any one might be number seven. You did not have numbers, did you, like the secret gangs in the old romances?”
“Of course not. We didn’t even have an official name, it was just Andy’s fooling.”
“Well, then, we will never know. And it does not greatly matter…. Ladies, I think that is all. You are staying here tonight, Miss Suttman?”
“No, I’m going home. I’ve imposed on Mrs. Kirby long enough.”
“Ah? Then I will be happy to take you home, if you are ready to go now.”
“Well…thanks.”
Jacqueline said nothing. She preceded them to the door, and Jean was gratified to note that di Cavallo shared the weaknesses of lesser men. His appraisal of Jacqueline’s legs was leisurely, expert, and approving.
The lieutenant’s car was an official vehicle, complete with driver. After asking directions, di Cavallo was silent until they reached Jean’s apartment building. To her surprise and unexpressed alarm, he got out with her. He saw the alarm; there was amusement in his face as he condescended to explain.
“The other young woman—Miss Dana—also lives in this building, I believe. I wish to speak to her.”
“She may not be in,” Jean said, as they entered the building. “Dana leads an active social life.”
“Yes, I would think she might,” said the lieutenant gravely. “I wonder why, since your friend lives here with you, it was left to Mrs. Kirby to take you home today, after your bad experience.”
“Dana doesn’t live with me, she just has a room in the same building. We aren’t exactly…I mean, we are friends, but not—”
“I think I understand.”
“I wish I thought you did,” muttered Jean. “What do you want to see her about?”
“Only to tie up the—”
“Loose ends. All right, ask a stupid question and you get a stupid…Sorry, I didn’t mean that,” she added quickly.
When they reached the third floor di Cavallo knocked on Dana’s door. Jean hovered, unashamedly curious. She expected di Cavallo to order her away, but he did not, and when it became apparent that Dana was not at home, she suggested, “Maybe I could help you. What was it you were going to ask Dana?”
“I only wish to ascertain where each person was at the time of the tragedy. It is part of the routine.”
“An alibi.” Jean considered this. “You didn’t ask me.”
“But signorina,” said di Cavallo silkily, “I know where you were when the man died. You were kneeling by his side. Is that not correct?”
5
AS IT GOES FROM THE PIAZZA BARBERINI TO THE Porta Pinciana, the Via Veneto curves and climbs. Jean was trying