"He was murdered," Giacinto announced. He grinned smugly when Alessandro immediately walked over.

"Shut up!" Alessandro hissed.

Giacinto turned around slowly, index finger raised -- pinpointing Alessandro's words. He was grinning. "Did you just curse?"

Alessandro raised his eyebrows.

"You totally did."

Alessandro crossed his arms. "I did not."

"Hmm." Giacinto pursed his lips in feigned thought. "Yes, you did."

"I did n -- why are we doing this?"

"Because you don't agree with me," Giacinto said. "Commissario Steno cursing, thought I'd never see that day."

Alessandro's eye twitched. He exhaled slowly. Don't throw him across the yard. Do not throw --

"Now, our slightly over cooked artist here --" Giacinto whispered conspiratorially, pointing to the corpse in the fountain, "didn't really die in a fire."

It took all of Alessandro's willpower not to shout in desperation. If he could stop referring to a murder victim as a slightly over cooked artist, that'd be great. "Really? Because he definitely was alive when he crossed the lawn," he said sourly, glaring pointedly at the ashy path through the green.

"Technically," Giacinto said. "But he was stabbed before that."

"Quiet! This is no matter for--"

"What are you two whispering about?" Laelia piped up.

"I have no idea how someone can be so dense about some things and yet have a sixth sense for things she shouldn't know," Giacinto sighed. "She won't gossip. No worries."

Alessandro dragged a hand through his hair. He knew those two deaths were connected. He just didn't know how.  He grabbed Giacinto's shoulder. "Listen, I cannot allow this to get out."

The Greek watched him through narrow eyes. "To hide your inability to solve those murders?"

Alessandro leant down to whisper in Giacinto's ear. "Because officially those are accidents."

"You didn't report to your superior?"

"No." He tightened his grip for a second. "And it will stay that way." Who would believe Alessandro if he said a mosaic artist had jumped from a platform to escape an assassin while hiding a clue about Genoa planning a war? They'd lock him in a madhouse.

A slow grin spread over Giacinto's face. "You're smarter than you look, Steno."

Alessandro chose to ignore the jab. They'd only end up snapping back and forth again.

They both turned to Laelia.

She was waiting with crossed arms and raised eyebrows, tapping her foot impatiently. "If you pretend Giacinto didn't just say this was murder I'll hit you."

Giacinto crossed his arms. "I'd like to see you try."

"Both of you, quiet." Alessandro paced back and forth in front of the fountain, "Signora, this is a matter of grave importance--"

"Got it."

"I don't think--"

"No talking about it to anyone," Laelia nodded, "If word gets out you know it's murder the killer will disappear. I'll say nothing." She made a locking gesture over her mouth, then threw away the 'key'.

Alessandro blinked.

"Don't do that look." Laelia frowned.

"What--"

Giacinto sighed. "The I-didn't-know-women-can-be-smart  look. She sees it everywhere."

"Because it is  everywhere, Gia. Now tell me about the other murder."

Giacinto's eyes darted to Alessandro, flickering back to Laelia in an unspoken question.

The blond mustered her slowly. She looked like a doll, with her pale skin, big blue eyes and straight black hair, arranged in an elaborate up-do. Still favored by the soft, ethereal features that graced the most beautiful children in an unnatural manner. Little angels, the pride of their parents, who had not yet turned old enough for times hand to slowly turn the satin cheeks to linen.

But there was more to her than her beauty. Her eyes flitted around constantly, she had found out easily why Alessandro wanted the investigation to stay secret, she somehow had figured there had been another murder. She seemed to have a mind too sharp and fast for the innocence that plumped her pouting lips when things didn't go her way. This girl was far more educated than others and, most of all, impressively intelligent. Beauty is a dangerous tool, Alessandro knew. But intelligence is deadly.

"Did you know about this new conspiracy theory?" Laelia ripped him from his observation with a secretive whisper, "Women do possess brains!"

The two men looked at each other.

"Just tell me, I'll keep annoying you otherwise," she grinned.

Alessandro immediatley shook his head. "You're not annoying, Signora--"

"Stop being so polite. God. Why are we doing this again?" Giacinto dragged a hand over his face with the sigh of a man who had realized the little child tugging at his trousers wouldn't stop whining and poking until he explained whatever it wanted know now.

"Because you decided to shout confidential information around like a pitchman," Alessandro hissed – not sure whether to strangle the Greek or do his job. Alternatively, he could hit his own head repeatedly on the marble basin of the fountain until he passed out.

Laelia pouted. "I could help. Three brains work better than two." It was a miracle none of the two men gave in to the sparkling glance Laelia gave at them.

Alessandro groaned. "The last time someone offered their help like that, I was stuck with a corpse and Signore Marinos for two hours."

Giacinto glared up from where he sat on the basin at Alessandro. "I didn't offer my help."

"Right, you just kept talking and refused to let me work."

"Commissario Steno," Laelia mumbled. She paused until she had the attention of the two men, " – there's a corpse laying here and I understand that you need to do your work. He's another body to you, but... he was a friend to me. This is Iacobo! I want to know what happened! Why would anyone harm him? He's – he's never said a mean word to anyone!" Her voice wavered. Her eyebrows furrowed in desperate confusion. There was a helpless incomprehension darkening her eyes – a cloud passing over the bright sun that had sent sparkles dancing over blue waters now turning deep and sombre. "Please."

Alessandro saw the red brimming in her eyes. But even next to her friend's corpse, she didn't cry. Respect seized the commissar, something like admiration swelling in his chest. He watched her quietly for a moment longer before the little crease between his eyebrows smoothed itself and he wordlessly nodded.

"Thank you, Signore. Thank you!" She clapped her hands. The brightness that suddenly sprang to life in her again almost could outshine the horror of the dead.

"I still don't like your extent knowledge of murder, Signore Marinos, but I believe you have something to share," Alessandro said.

"No."

"What, no?"

"You know I have something to share." Giacinto grinned like a proud cat presenting a caught mouse with glinting eyes.

Alessandro was significantly less amused. He should consider joining that murderer on his killing spree.

"How do you know he was stabbed?" Laelia chimed in, leaning over the edge of the basin curiously to inspect the burnt remains – her face turned several shades lighter at the view, but she stayed. "There are so many cracks – where do they come from? Or are they all cuts?"

"No," Alessandro said. "The higher the temperature, the longer flesh burns, the more the skin cracks open. They have different depths and are irregular in length and shape, but you can tell from the average depth that one of those isn't a crack. Over there – " He pointed to a small, but deep slash at the corpse's stomach. There was a fat, ugly blister right at its edge, a frozen bubble of scourging heat. " – the fire cracked it open wider, but it had been there before. It's deep enough for us to see red flesh – in every other you can only see burnt black."

"Now are you the killer to know that?" Giacinto gasped dramatically.

"All charges against you have been dropped," the inspector stated flatly, still narrowing his eyes at the corpse, not sparing the other a glance.

"What?"

"I've sent men to Ferrara and the inn you stayed in. You're no longer a suspect, Signore Marinos." All guilt had been lifted off the Greek – but that had not taken away the strange evasiveness of the man.

Nor had the doubt faded. Something had Alessandro on edge around him. Every time he tried to place a finger on it, it escaped his grasp like everything else about the young Greek. No one seemed to know where he was from. Few in Venice knew him, recalling the always black clad man stride past. Even fewer actually knew him. As in, having exchanged a few words.

And no one really  knew him.

He stayed at the palace of Venice's most famous general, yet no one had been able to tell him how he had ended up there or why. Only a maid of the general had told him something useful, before scurrying off hurriedly.

Giacinto first appeared two years ago. They knew he was from a rich Greek family and now lived with the General. No introduction, he just had appeared and stayed. He would never stay long, always on trips to noone-knows. The General seemed extremely fond of his guest, but he didn't talk to the servants about him.

Generally, noblemen sending their sons off at a certain age to live and study with an old friend for some time was nothing unusual. But there was still no answer to illuminate the vague silhouette that was Giacinto Marinos.

" – stop staring into space, Steno!"

"Sorry, I'm – what?" Alessandro quickly snapped his head to the black haired man rolling his eyes at him.

"I said he was stabbed in the liver. Then set himself on fire to avoid dying painfully for a long time."

"Of course," Alessandro smiled wryly and nodded slowly. "Because the knife in his toolbox would've been too hard to use. I mean, who would just stab themselves to avoid a long painful death and not set themselves on fire? Burning while suffocating on smoke is so quick and comfortable I have heard."

The Greek pursed his lips as if the blond had force-fed him a lemon. "Don't try being funny, it makes me want to punch you. Then again, I always want to punch you."

"I could arrest you for that."

"Sure, try," Giacinto said. "He did set himself on fire. Because whoever shot him never set a foot down here."

"But didn't you say he was stabbed?" Laelia tilted her head as she narrowed her eyes at the statue of coal that once had been her friend. Her eyes turned glazed and far away, seeing what no longer was, what no longer would be.

Alessandro knew what she was feeling. It was a strange feeling, the realization of loss close but not yet quite having hit. Not understanding how someone could be just there and then gone. Like a fire, bright one second and flames dancing towards the night sky, then bodiless fume floating over the ashes where fingers helplessly ran through it as no hand could hope to catch it and hold the fire's warmth to a grieving heart.

Alessandro put a heavy hand on her shoulder, pulling her back from whatever place she had gone to. He offered her a smile only visible in his eyes.

Giacinto glared at the officer. "I thought he was stabbed, but there's no trace of a fight," Giacinto explained and gestured around the garden.

Not a single flower petal was out of place and no painting utensil had been knocked over.

"I'm not sure how much of a fight someone who sets themselves on fire puts up," Alessandro said.

Giacinto lips pressed into an annoyed line. He didn't seem to like the officer turning out to be that sarcastic. A tiny ember of satisfaction settled in Alessandro's chest. It was horribly unfitting for his serious reputation -- yet he decided to let it nest there, but hid the smug smile. Serves him right. Tasting his own medicine.

"The murderer might've just put everything back into place," Laelia mustered the orderly arrangement with narrowed eyes and lips pursed in thought.

Giacinto rolled his eyes. "Things, yes. But trampling flowers is impossible to conceal."

To both sides of the easel, there were flower beds so close that they formed a delicate but impenetrable wall.

"The wound was inflicted from the front – but the canvas is blocking him. And there's no hole in the painting," the Greek elaborated like someone praising a horse on the market.

Alessandro paid just as much attention to him as to his theory. The way he talked – strangely fascinated. No ... that' was not fascination. And that would've been disturbing enough.

No, Giacinto was impressed.

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Thank you for taking the time and reading this chapter!

Now, what do you think of Laelia? Do you think she can keep up with the two men? What are your theories on the murder?

Avis.