Page 17 of Palazzo
“That’s impossible. Who would do that? Vandals? Do you think they broke into the house?”
“Arson happens for a lot of reasons,” he said. The police were on the scene then too, and the brigade chief informed them that it was arson. A more extensive search would be made once the embers were colder, but they no longer had any doubt. Someone had set the fire on purpose, out of pure malice or for other reasons. Usually for insurance money. Cosima was shocked. The fire brigade took the rags as evidence and commented that whoever set the fire hadn’t tried to remove them once the fire had caught. They said it must have gotten hot very quickly, and the flames had caught on the antique draperies and upholstery. The police marked it as a crime scene, and they wouldn’t let Cosima go back in.
She eventually went to the small hotel near the house where she often stayed, checked in, called Allegra again, and reported to her that the fire had been set intentionally.
“What a horrible thing to do,” Allegra said in a choked voice. Cosima sounded numb. She had barely slept the night before, except in an airport chair, and had been on her feet at the scene all day. And she was in shock over the cause of the fire. The police and fire brigade were sure it wasn’t an accident and had opened a full-on investigation.
Cosima had just hung up with Allegra when Olivier Bayard called her. He sounded cheerful and in a good mood.
“I’m coming to Rome tomorrow. I have meetings in Florence the day after, even though the factory is closed. Would you like to have dinner tomorrow night? I’m sorry it’s such short notice.”
“I can’t. I’m in Venice,” she said, exhausted. “There was a fire at the palazzo last night. Allegra and I were in Sardinia. I’ve been here all day. It’s a disaster.” She hadn’t seen him since he’d left Rome a monthbefore. He said he’d been swamped in Paris with a huge workload. He had texted her a couple of times just to say hello.
“I’m so sorry. How did that happen?” he asked her. “Careless? A lit cigarette? Electrical?”
She hesitated, but she didn’t want to lie to him.
“They think it was arson. They found evidence. I can’t understand why anyone would do that.”
“People do it to commit insurance fraud sometimes. Are the police being helpful?”
“More or less. They’ve been busy, and the arson issue makes it a much bigger deal. I hope they don’t think I set the fire.”
“Of course not. They must know who you are. I take it you still own the house and it hasn’t changed hands.” He knew she was selling it, but not if the sale was final yet.
“I still own the house,” she said, feeling like a zombie. It was all catching up with her and she felt like she might faint. She hadn’t eaten all day either, and no one had thought to bring her something. The store manager had come and gone. And Tomaso and Guillermo, the guardians, had been busy as soon as they arrived.
Listening to her, Olivier made a decision. “I don’t need to be in Rome, and I can put off my meetings in Florence for a day or two. I was coming to Rome to see you. I’ll come to Venice tomorrow in case you need a hand. This sounds complicated, if it’s arson. You shouldn’t be there alone. Is your sister with you?”
“She’s at a house we rented in Sardinia. She wanted to come, but it’s too difficult with her chair. There’s debris all over the place on the ground outside the house.” The caretakers were going through it for anything valuable.
“Where are you staying?” She gave him the name of the hotel. “I’ll be there tomorrow morning. I’ll find you.”
“You really don’t need to do that. I’m fine here on my own,” she said bravely, but he could hear how upset she was.
“I’m sure you are, but I’d feel better seeing you.” He was matter-of-fact about it, and she didn’t argue with him, and was grateful. She took a long shower when she hung up, to get the smell of smoke off her and out of her hair. No amount of soap and shampoo did it. She bought a sandwich at a nearby trattoria, ate it quickly, and went back to the hotel and to bed. As she lay there, she felt guilty for letting Olivier Bayard come the next day, but relieved too. She could manage on her own, and five minutes later, still in her clothes, she was sound asleep.
Chapter 8
Cosima was back at the palazzo at eight o’clock the next morning. There was a police officer outside the house to prevent looting. She told him who she was, and went in. She had been pawing through debris with heavy gardening gloves for two hours when she heard someone call her name from the floor below. She had started at the top where there was the least damage and was working her way down, when she saw Olivier come up the stairs. He looked tall and solid and sympathetic when she saw him, and he gave her a hug and held her for a minute, and then looked her over. Her sneakers were wet and she was filthy, and had smudges of ash on her face.
“I’m sorry I let you come,” she apologized. “This is an awful project. I don’t even know where to start. It’s a disaster downstairs on the first floor. The fire didn’t get up here.”
They walked down the stairs together, and he looked around as they got to the more affected areas. “Once you sift through it for anything you want to save, you need one of those companies thatcome in and clear it all out for you,” he said practically. It was much too big a job for her, the two old caretakers, or anyone but professionals. But he was glad he had come to lend her support. She looked as overwhelmed as she felt.
“I left a message for our insurance company yesterday. I think they arrange things like that.” But it was the weekend and the office was closed. There was only voicemail. It was Sunday when Olivier arrived.
He went through some of the debris with her and had been working for two hours when one of the police officers came into the house and told her that the detective in charge of the case would like to meet with her at the police station after lunch. He looked ominous as he said it, and she whispered to Olivier after the officer left them and went back to his post outside.
“What do you suppose that’s about?”
“Standard procedure. They want information from you, or anything you might know about a potential arsonist.”
“He didn’t look friendly.”
“He’s a police officer, he’s not supposed to be,” Olivier said calmly. “Have you told your brother about the fire? He might have some ideas. I hope he’s not in debt again.”
“Me too. And I haven’t called him. He’s never any help when something bad happens. He figures it’s not his problem and disappears. I don’t even know where he is right now. He’s been floating around visiting friends. He does that every summer. He could be anywhere, France, Greece, Turkey, Italy. He usually goes to the best places.” Olivier didn’t comment but he thought less and less of her brother the more he heard about him, from her and his own sonMax, who said he liked Luca. From all he had heard of him so far, Olivier didn’t. He seemed to leave his sisters high and dry at every opportunity. Olivier was very glad he had flown in from Paris. If nothing else, Cosima needed a friend with her.
