Chiara, a woman leaning into the wind, pressed against the railing of a crowded waterbus on a Venetian canal, her straight black hair falling across the angry scar on her beautiful face, is a haunting presence in the second of Grace Brophy's Commissario Cenni series, A Deadly Paradise. She was the woman Cenni loved for her laughter and her irreverence, the woman he believed had been murdered twenty years earlier, and the reason he turned to police work. Deftly drawn, Chiara reappears at the heart of the book, and Cenni's search for the killers of a German-born cultural attache who knew too many secrets in occupied Venice during World War II is entwined with his search for her.
Reading about Cenni's investigations is a little like walking through a portrait gallery in a dark and cavernous Venetian palazzo, where characters step out of paintings with all their eccentricities and malice. Harboring long held hatreds, they connive with murderous intent. The settings are evocative, the politics intriguing. The murder takes place in a quiet Umbrian village, conjuring up the brutal murders of a mother and child in the same place fifty years earlier. It is a village where everyone knows each other's business but no one wants to dredge up the past.
When the latest murder victim, a selfish and egotistical expert on Renaissance art, discovers that vast sums of counterfeit money missing since the war were used to buy art after the fighting ended, she blackmails everyone involved, who would all like to see her dead. But they're not the only ones--friends she betrayed thirst for revenge; her secretary hates her; her landlord is trying to evict her and the neighbors want her out. In pursuing the killer, Cenni struggles with higher ranking police officers who would prefer not to solve the crime if that would mean raking over delicate post-war relations between Italy and Germany or embarrassing government officials. The investigation also fuels competition within Cenni's department, and gender issues faced by women officers determined to prove themselves.
From the Umbrian countryside to decaying Venetian palazzos, vividly described and drenched in atmosphere, Cenni digs for clues, a fading photograph, a cracked periwinkle dish, racing toward the last crescendo on a fourth floor balcony with a precipitous drop to the valley below. Throughout, the precision and wit of the writing is delectable, and Cenni's love for Chiara gives the mystery a tantalizing hint of romance.