around the table, has the power to make my ears burn and my heart pound. The chattering swells and rises in the vaulted room until it seems as if the monkeys on the ceiling have come to life. Mark finally puts an end to it by pounding his fist on the table.
“This is exactly what we cannot have,” he says, his voice tight with barely controlled anger. It’s not like Mark to come so close to losing control—it must be the lack of sleep. “Yes, it’s true that Orlando Brunelli is the grandson of Benedetta Brunelli, Lucy Graham’s private secretary, who was rumored to have had an affair with Sir Lionel Graham. She was La Civetta’s hospitality coordinator—and a fine one, I might add—for years and never seemed the least bit interested in suing for a piece of the estate, and neither did her son, Bruno Brunelli, who’s taught at La Civetta for several years now. Brunelli’s wife, Claudia, however, who took over the job of hospitality coordinator when the old woman died, filed a lawsuit in her son, Orlando’s, name as soon as he came of age. They are contesting Cyril Graham’s ownership of La Civetta and his intention to bequeath the entire estate to Hudson College, but our lawyers”—here Mark nods toward the pretty blond woman and she seems to glow under the attention—“are confident that the Brunellis will not be successful in their suit.”
“Because the Italian government doesn’t recognize illegitimate heirs?” Frieda Mainbocher asks.
“No,” the lawyer answers, “because the villa and all the art collected by the Graham family were purchased by Lucy Wallace Graham, Sir Lionel’s wife. This was her family home before she married Sir Lionel.” The lawyer casts her eyes upward to take in the grand proportions of the room and seems startled to encounter the gaze of an impudent monkey. “She brought a great deal of money to the marriage, which Sir Lionel used to buy La Civetta and to finance his personal art and rare book collection.”
“So if you can prove La Civetta really belonged to Lucy Graham you render the Brunelli suit impotent,” Frieda Mainbocher sums up.
“But everyone knows it was Sir Lionel who was interested in art. Lucy Graham couldn’t have told a Bellini from a Bernini,” an art history professor points out.
“Ultimately that doesn’t matter if the money was hers—but in fact we’ve discovered that Lucy Graham was more interested in her husband’s collections than we might have thought. A number of important purchases—especially in the area of rare manuscripts—were made directly by Mrs. Graham. What would be helpful is more scholarly work on Lucy Graham’s role as a collector—”
“What in the world does this all have to do with that poor boy’s death!” The remark comes, surprisingly, from Lydia Belquist, whose head is nodding and quivering like a bobble-head doll’s and whose rheumy old eyes are bright with tears.
Mark sighs and lifts his hands—pressed together as if in prayer—to the classics professor. “Thank you, Lydia. The answer is, nothing, absolutely nothing. It’s just an unfortunate coincidence that Robin was involved with this young man. As for his involvement with Robin’s death, yes, I agree with Gene that he was a precipitating factor in Robin’s emotional state and I did ask the police to talk to the boy. Unfortunately, he was able to catch a plane out of New York early this morning and has returned to Italy. Given the negative publicity that would arise if a connection with Robin’s death and the La Civetta lawsuit were made, I am asking everyone in this room to discourage this type of gossip. As far as I’m concerned, Orlando Brunelli was not responsible for Robin Weiss’s death. Now, to get back to Dr. Spiers…”
Dr. Spiers, who seems wrapped up in an elaborate doodle on his notepad, startles at the sound of his name. “Oh, yes,” he says, straightening up in his chair, “I think I’ve covered most of what I wanted to
“This is exactly what we cannot have,” he says, his voice tight with barely controlled anger. It’s not like Mark to come so close to losing control—it must be the lack of sleep. “Yes, it’s true that Orlando Brunelli is the grandson of Benedetta Brunelli, Lucy Graham’s private secretary, who was rumored to have had an affair with Sir Lionel Graham. She was La Civetta’s hospitality coordinator—and a fine one, I might add—for years and never seemed the least bit interested in suing for a piece of the estate, and neither did her son, Bruno Brunelli, who’s taught at La Civetta for several years now. Brunelli’s wife, Claudia, however, who took over the job of hospitality coordinator when the old woman died, filed a lawsuit in her son, Orlando’s, name as soon as he came of age. They are contesting Cyril Graham’s ownership of La Civetta and his intention to bequeath the entire estate to Hudson College, but our lawyers”—here Mark nods toward the pretty blond woman and she seems to glow under the attention—“are confident that the Brunellis will not be successful in their suit.”
“Because the Italian government doesn’t recognize illegitimate heirs?” Frieda Mainbocher asks.
“No,” the lawyer answers, “because the villa and all the art collected by the Graham family were purchased by Lucy Wallace Graham, Sir Lionel’s wife. This was her family home before she married Sir Lionel.” The lawyer casts her eyes upward to take in the grand proportions of the room and seems startled to encounter the gaze of an impudent monkey. “She brought a great deal of money to the marriage, which Sir Lionel used to buy La Civetta and to finance his personal art and rare book collection.”
“So if you can prove La Civetta really belonged to Lucy Graham you render the Brunelli suit impotent,” Frieda Mainbocher sums up.
“But everyone knows it was Sir Lionel who was interested in art. Lucy Graham couldn’t have told a Bellini from a Bernini,” an art history professor points out.
“Ultimately that doesn’t matter if the money was hers—but in fact we’ve discovered that Lucy Graham was more interested in her husband’s collections than we might have thought. A number of important purchases—especially in the area of rare manuscripts—were made directly by Mrs. Graham. What would be helpful is more scholarly work on Lucy Graham’s role as a collector—”
“What in the world does this all have to do with that poor boy’s death!” The remark comes, surprisingly, from Lydia Belquist, whose head is nodding and quivering like a bobble-head doll’s and whose rheumy old eyes are bright with tears.
Mark sighs and lifts his hands—pressed together as if in prayer—to the classics professor. “Thank you, Lydia. The answer is, nothing, absolutely nothing. It’s just an unfortunate coincidence that Robin was involved with this young man. As for his involvement with Robin’s death, yes, I agree with Gene that he was a precipitating factor in Robin’s emotional state and I did ask the police to talk to the boy. Unfortunately, he was able to catch a plane out of New York early this morning and has returned to Italy. Given the negative publicity that would arise if a connection with Robin’s death and the La Civetta lawsuit were made, I am asking everyone in this room to discourage this type of gossip. As far as I’m concerned, Orlando Brunelli was not responsible for Robin Weiss’s death. Now, to get back to Dr. Spiers…”
Dr. Spiers, who seems wrapped up in an elaborate doodle on his notepad, startles at the sound of his name. “Oh, yes,” he says, straightening up in his chair, “I think I’ve covered most of what I wanted to
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