Broken Chord (16 page)

Guido left the building and stood outside on the hot pavement wondering what to do next. He was surprised there were so few reporters hanging about because when he’d left the villa the previous day there had been a crowd. However, the
Procura
, set on the main road facing the ancient walls of Lucca did not lend itself to interviews. He guessed they’d all be waiting back at the villa, with their microphones and cameras. His hand automatically brushed non-existent fluff from his jacket. He adjusted his dark glasses and was secure in the knowledge that he was looking very good. He assumed a tragic air as a couple of flashes went off, put out a hand to ward off a microphone and then ambled slowly away before turning down a side road, where he increased his pace, quite anxious to get back to his hotel which he now thought of as a safe house. With a horrible jolt he recognised the young man who was leaning against the wall as though waiting for him. He felt his bowels turn to water but affecting a nonchalance that he was far from feeling, he briskly crossed the road pretending he hadn’t seen the boy. After about twenty metres when he had convinced himself that this was either a coincidence or perhaps hadn’t been the actual boy, he felt a hand touch his arm and a voice said softly, “Not so fast, Guido. Where are you running off to?”

“Good God!” he cried. “Where did you spring from?”

“Come off it. You saw me. I was waiting for you.”

“Whatever for?”

“Well, not for more of what you had last time. No, I’ve got
something else to talk to you about and believe me it’s important.”

Guido said, “Well, I can’t think what it can be, but I expect you’ll tell me when you’re ready, unless you want to explain why you decided to tell Ursula about our, shall we call it, mutual interest.”

“Shall we go and have a coffee and a chat?”

“I don’t suppose I’ve got much choice, have I?”

“Dead right you haven’t. Dead being the operative word.”

A much more composed Marta had answered all the questions that Drago had asked her, without giving any new information. She confirmed that the only thing she heard that night, was Lapo coming in at four in the morning. They let her go home because her thoughts were turning insistently towards lunch.

“And can cook come back?”

“Soon, I’ll let you know when.”

“And then there’s the cleaner. She wasn’t in yesterday so everything’s in a mess.”

“I do understand how difficult things are for you at the moment, but you’ll have to muddle through for now. I’ll be sending someone over for further investigation this afternoon and I don’t want anyone, apart from the family to be in the villa, that includes you and your husband, of course.”

“I suppose we are like family really. We don’t have any children of our own, you know. Our little boy died when he was only a few days old. We never had any more after that, so they’re like family to us. I don’t know what’s going to become of us now.”

He understood her worries. She’d given her life over to this family and now feared being abandoned by them. When she went back to the corridor Tebaldo took her arm with all the appearance of a loving son, but Drago knew, from things she had said earlier, that it wasn’t Tebaldo she loved, it was Lapo.

Lapo came in next. He was quite extraordinary to look at. He had a really angelic face which was framed by golden curls. Drago knew he was twenty-one and in his third year at university where he was reading economics. His body was very short and deformed,
the spine was twisted and he walked with jerky movements. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt which proclaimed in English that he loved New York.

“Signor Rama, may I call you Lapo?” he asked.

“Because I’m so young?” Lapo grinned.

“I thought you might feel more comfortable.”

“Wrong. It’s condescending. I would prefer you to call me Signor Rama,” he snapped.

“Certainly. Would you like to tell me about your movements on the night your mother was murdered, Signor Rama?” Drago asked very formally.

“Not really. Let’s simplify things and say that I went out and came back at four in the morning, something I do very often, as I expect that the ever-alert, big-eared, nosy-parker Marta has already told you.”

“Actually, I would really prefer to know where you were and if someone can confirm your alibi.”

“Alibi! I didn’t murder my mother.”

“Then tell me where you were.”

Lapo sighed and said, “I was out whoring and I don’t even remember what the whore looked like, let alone what her name was. As far as I can recollect she didn’t tell me. We didn’t waste time talking.”

Drago thought, ‘you poor little creature, overcompensating for looking less of a man than other men’. “That’s rather unfortunate,” he remarked.

Lapo gave him another disconcerting smile, “Isn’t it. Should I get a lawyer now?”

“If you prefer, but I’m not accusing you of anything.” He kept his tone bland.

“Oh, I rather thought you were.”

“No, I’m asking you the same questions I’m asking everyone else. Let’s say, I’m clearing the woods so that I can see the trees.”

“What a cliché. Any more questions?”

“How did you feel about Guido and your mother getting married?”

“Disgusted. Next question.”

“Do you have any ideas about who could have killed your mother?”

“No. None whatsoever. Can I go now?”

“Signor Rama, murder is a serious matter. I’m not here to play games with you. I’m investigating a serious crime.”

“Then get on with it and leave me alone.” Drago was aware that, despite his facetious air, Lapo’s breathing was getting wheezier.

“Should you use your bronchodilator spray?”

“Not yet, and not at all if you’ll leave me in peace.”

“I don’t understand why you’re deliberately being so obstructive. I’m here to find out who killed your mother. I’m not your enemy,” but even as he said it he knew it wasn’t true. He was the enemy. He was a normal man and that was sufficient to make him an enemy. Lapo was at war with other human beings; he probably hated everyone. He felt he wasn’t normal so he had to prove what he was capable of. He boasted about his sexual prowess, but his sexual preference was not for normal women; he frequented prostitutes. He obviously had to denigrate women to enjoy them, and pay them too. That made them totally without value in his eyes and in so doing increased his own sense of worth. Lapo must have seen pity in Drago’s eyes because he got up abruptly, wheezing strongly now, and said breathlessly, “I’m leaving now. If you want me, you know where I live, but you’d better have a good reason for making me waste my time.”

He rolled his twisted body out of the room and Bruno remarked, “Poor sod.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of murder. He’s so bitter he probably dreams of killing other people. He feels life gave him a rotten deal so he’s deliberately rude and unpleasant. Why should he be nice to others when all they do is patronise him? This way, at least they can dislike him. He’d rather have that.

“Did you get your degree in psychology?” Bruno grinned at him.

“Very funny. Listen to me, Lapo is bitter and hates everyone.
I have the impression he could easily kill, but I don’t see why he should kill his own mother, unless he’s never forgiven her for giving birth to him.”

“Sure, but why kill her now? Why wait all these years?”

“I don’t know, but you’ve hit the nail on the head. It’s the timing of this thing that’s important. When we know why she was killed now, we will also know who did it, but I haven’t given up on Lapo. He doesn’t exactly have a sunny, likeable, open disposition, despite his charming smile.”

“Actually he’s quite beautiful. His face is more than handsome.” Bruno was a great connoisseur of beauty.

“Yes, he is extremely beautiful. Perhaps that’s why Marta adores him. It can’t be for his winning personality.”

“Perhaps he’s different with her. Don’t forget, she’s been around all his life.”

“You heard him, the way he talks about her, calling her a nosy parker. I don’t think he’s very fond of her, or anyone come to that.”

“Who do you want in next?”

“The stunning, Madonna-like Marianna.”

“I can’t wait to see her.”

“Then I will give you the privilege of calling her in. I know you like blondes.”

“Thank you. Is she really that wonderful?”

“Too inhuman for me. Looks like a she’s wearing a chastity belt, but I am well aware that she’s not.”

Bruno hooted with laughter. “Really!”

“Go and call her, and afterwards you can tell me what you think.”

Bruno bustled out and came back a few minutes later with Marianna who was wearing white again, a simple linen dress and flat white sandals. Once again she looked positively virginal. Her long straight hair was pushed back over her shoulders and fell down her back like a cape. Drago thought it must have made her terribly hot in this heat but she looked the sort who never sweated. It was human to sweat but she was like a statue: tall, remote and inhuman.

She entered ahead of Bruno and sailed past him. Behind her back Bruno raised his eyebrows at Drago who rose to greet her. “Good morning, Signorina Ghiberti.”

“Please call me Marianna.”

“Thank you. Please sit down, Marianna, this is my colleague, Bruno Faro.”

Her eyes swept over Bruno as though she hadn’t actually seen him. “Good morning,” she said politely and gently sat down.

“Would you like someone to be with you. You are technically a minor.”

“Only till next month.”

“I can call your brother back if you like.”

“Lapo? No thanks,” she said shortly.

“This is quite a simple, informal interview. I’m not taking notes but you will be asked to make a statement later.”

“Alright.”

“I just want to run over the events of the night your mother was killed.”

“Yes.” Her expression remained quite serene.

“You say you stayed in all evening, in your room. Is that correct?”

“Oh yes. My fiancé, Roberto, is in hospital so I preferred to stay in.”

“Your fiancé? Is he seriously ill?”

“He was run over.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“He’s out of danger now but it was touch and go. I visit him every day. In fact I’ll be going to the hospital straight after I’ve finished here.”

“Tell me about Roberto, what does he do?”

“He’s a surveyor in the Town Hall. It’s a respectable job. He’s just a normal guy like thousands of others, I suppose, and we’re getting married as soon as he’s fit.” She smiled disarmingly at him.

“Did your mother approve of this relationship?”

“No, she thinks… thought, that I’m too young.”

“Well, aren’t you a little young?”

“I don’t think so. In my family you grow up fast, believe me. It’s not as wonderful as it looks from the outside. I want a family of my own, a normal family.”

“Did your mother agree to you marrying?”

“Oh, I never talked about marrying Roberto, not with her, and in fact I only decided after she died. I don’t want to be alone. I want a family, so I proposed to Roberto and he accepted.” She gave another small smile.

“Perhaps you should wait a little while, see how you feel after the mourning period is over. They say you should never make any important decisions for a year after the death of a near relative, a parent or a partner.”

Her cool blue eyes looked into his, “It’s quite simple really. What would I do alone? Roberto truly loves me and I love him. I need someone who loves me. You can understand that, can’t you?”

“Of course. What about your brother? He’s family, isn’t he?”

“Lapo? I don’t want to live with Lapo, he’s cruel.”

“Cruel, how is he cruel?”

“He’s got it in for the world,” she said vaguely. “Maybe that’s why he likes to hurt people.”

“Be specific. What do you mean when you say Lapo is cruel, do you mean verbally or physically?”

She moved convulsively and her hair fell forwards half hiding her face. “Both. He likes to see people suffer. He enjoys other people’s pain. It’s because of, you know, the way he is. He’s always been like that, even when he was little. It was tough growing up with an older brother like Lapo.” She tossed her hair back over her shoulder, straightened her back and looked at him. He found it most disconcerting, this cool empty gaze of hers.

“So he hurts you?”

“Sometimes, usually if we’re having a fight.”

“Did he hurt your mother?”

“No way! It was just between us kids.”

“Does he have many friends?”

“Not really. I don’t actually know, because he’s at university
and I’m at school, so we don’t mix socially. Besides he’s over three years older than me.”

“He never brings friends home?”

“No.”

“To go back to the night your mother died. You say you stayed in that night. Did you hear anyone in the house, or perhaps see anyone?”

“I stayed in my room and I slept all night.”

“Marianna, how many hours do you sleep? Only I was there the next day and you didn’t get up till past eleven.”

“Well, actually, I took a sleeping pill.”

“Who prescribes them for you?”

“My shrink.”

“You see a psychiatrist?”

“A psychotherapist.”

“How long have you been seeing him?”

“Oh forever, well, for about three years. I told you, growing up in my family is difficult.” She looked away from him.

“You said you weren’t very fond of your mother, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Was there a particular reason?”

“It’s old stuff and I’m dealing with it, you know, with my shrink.”

“I see.”

“I told you, don’t be taken in by the outward appearance, the beautiful villa, the money, all that stuff. Believe me, it was tough.”

“You’re talking about yourself? What about the others?”

“No, this is not just about me, Teo had a bad time and so did Lapo. We’re all damaged goods really.”

“Do you have any idea who might have killed your mother?”

“No, none at all. To tell the truth it still seems impossible she’s dead. You know when someone is so strong and alive, you can’t believe it when they die.”