“I am driving a machine your father invented. I have a strong sense of your father’s genius and his skills and maybe his dreams. I don’t think they should be stolen from him, particularly as he is not here to defend himself. Can you give me something I can use to defend him?”

Danielle closed her eyes and knitted her brow. “I understand,” she said. “Let me think . . . You see, your monoplano, she was made later. After Marco made his copy. Marco is like a sponge. He remembers everything he ever sees but never has his own idea. So Marco’s monoplano has no improvements that my father made in yours.”

“Like what? What did he improve? What did he change?”

“Alettoni.”

“But they look exactly the same. I compared them.”

“Look again,” she said. “Closer.”

“At what?”

“Cardine. How do you say? Pivot. Hinge! Look how the alettoni hinge to your aeroplane. Then look at Josephine’s.”

Bell saw the startled expression on Andy Moser’s face. “What is it, Andy?”

“The boys were saying her flaps were lightly seated. The pintles were too small. That’s why the flap fell off.”

Bell nodded, thinking hard. “Thank you, Danielle,” he said. It had been a productive visit. “We have to go. Are they treating you well?”

“Better, grazie. And I have lawyer.” She turned to Andy and gave the mechanician a dazzling smile. “Thank you for visiting me, Andy.” She extended her hand. Andy grabbed it and shook it hard. Danielle rolled her eyes at Bell and said, “Andy, when a lady gives you her hand, it is sometimes better to kiss it than shake it.”

Bell said, “Andy, get the machine ready to start. I’ll be there in a minute.” He waited until Andy was out of earshot. “There is one other thing I must ask you, Danielle.”

“What is it?”

“Were you ever in love with Marco Celere?”

“Marco?” she laughed. “Mr. Bell, you can’t be serious.”

“I have never met the man.”

“I would love a sea urchin before I would love Marco Celere. A poisonous sea urchin. You have no idea how treacherous he is. He breathes lies as another man breathes air. He schemes, he pretends, he steals. He is truffatore.”

“What is truffatore?”

“Imbroglione.”

“What is imbroglione?”

“Impostore! Defraudatore!”

“A con man,” said Bell.

“What is con man?” she asked.

“A confidence trickster. A thief who pretends to be your friend.”

“Yes! That is Marco Celere. A thief who pretends to be your friend.”

Isaac Bell’s quick mind raced into high gear. A murdered thief whose body was never found was one sort of mystery. A murdered confidence man whose body disappeared was quite another. Particularly when Harry Frost had cried in bewildered anguish, “You don’t know what they were up to.”