Broken Chord (19 page)

Isabella had been standing hesitantly in the bathroom doorway watching Teo bathe the girls. Since his mother’s death, he hardly wanted to be separated from their children and had almost taken over caring for them. She wondered if he was worried that something would happen to them. It seemed crass to interrupt this idyllic scene but she couldn’t hold back any longer. She took a deep breath and spoke. “Teo?”

“Hmm,” he looked up from the bath where his two daughters were splashing happily. She beckoned with her hand and he followed her. “What?”

“The police asked me if you were in bed all night.”

“What did you say?”

“I said you were, of course.”

“Thank you, Isabella. Camilla, stop splashing your sister,” he called.

“Teo.”

“Yes.”

“You weren’t, actually.”

“Wasn’t I?”

“No.”

“I see. What are you going to do?”

“Nothing. I just wanted you to know that I know.”

“I didn’t do it.” He looked squarely at her.

“I know you didn’t. I don’t think the police need to know our private business.”

“No.”

“I presume you have an alibi.”

“Yes.”

“Well then, there’s no need to worry, is there.”

“No, of course not, but I’d rather not have to use it.”

“I see. Well, I don’t see any reason why anyone should have to know, so we’ll forget it.”

“Thank you, Isabella.”

“I just wanted to tell you that I know.”

He bowed his head but said nothing.

Marianna scrubbed her body over and over again while tears streamed down her face and mingled with the shower water. Her mind was teeming with a thousand emotions. Everything was going so horribly wrong. There was something that she needed to remember… something important that kept slipping away from her grasp. By the time she stepped out of the shower she accepted that the mysteriously imperative thought had escaped her yet again. It was something to do with her mother’s death, but she couldn’t bring it to the forefront of her mind, no matter how hard she tried. She’d thought it might have to do with Lapo but it couldn’t be. She’d heard him come in at four in the morning. He’d probably woken everyone up, so it wasn’t that. It was something that had happened much earlier. If only she could remember!

She dried herself and stood in front of the mirror looking at her own perfection. What did it matter how perfect you looked when inside you were such a mess? Better to be like Lapo whose mind was as twisted as his body. You could see what he was. He had violated her body. He was so grossly evil that nothing could excuse it, not his misfortune, not their stupid thoughtless mother, not their difficult life, nothing. Nothing could justify sinking to the levels that Lapo effortlessly achieved and rarely bothered to feel concerned about. He’d apologised to her, which meant that for once even he had realised the extent of his iniquity. Iniquity; what an old-fashioned word, but a suitable one.

She lay naked on the bed and allowed herself to sink into
a lethargic state that was similar to sleep but yet was not sleep. Recently, she was spending quite a lot of time in this empty space. It was peaceful there and sometimes she tipped over into sleep and that was even better, until the nightmares woke her.

Lapo surfed the internet voraciously, his eyes caressing images that never sated his hunger, only accentuated his need. He’d have to go out tonight and find some poor cow who’d be willing to satisfy him. He allowed himself the pleasure of considering what he would like to do. The image of Marianna flashed up before him. He banged his fist onto the desk so hard, that several objects bounced off onto the floor. Then he nursed his knuckles, rocking gently. His eyes filled with tears for the second time since his mother’s death. He asked himself if he cared that she was dead but couldn’t find an answer to his own question. Why the tears then?

He looked into the mirror at his angelic face and realised that the tears were for him, the little boy whose own mother found him repellent, the twisted child mocked by others and given the nickname ‘poisonous dwarf’ by the kids at school, the good-natured infant who had no consciousness of ‘self’ but who had turned into a monster as a response to the harshness of life, when he was made to realise what he was. Why should he have compassion for others when he’d never received any himself? He brushed away the tears and went downstairs for a drink, the first of several.

“Marta, they’ve gone.”

“Thank heavens for that. They told me that cook can come back the day after tomorrow. I’ve already phoned her and Franca. The cleaner can come in then as well, so only one more day to soldier on and then things will run a bit more smoothly.”

“What are you doing for their dinner?”

“A rice salad with cold cuts. The children like that and anyway, no one’s very hungry.”

“Marta, have you thought about it?”

“Thought about what, Piero?”

“Who did it?”

“Of course. Ever since I saw her like that I’ve done nothing else.”

“And who do you think it was?”

“Not one of us, the family, I mean. It must have been someone from outside.”

“That’s what I’d like to think, but how did they get in?”

“I’ve thought about that too. I think Madam opened the shutters onto the balcony herself, maybe she went out for some fresh air, anyway a burglar saw how easy it would be to climb up the wisteria so he did.”

“And a burglar just happened to be passing by on that particular evening? The only time she opened the shutters since we’ve been here, and he didn’t steal anything? Impossible.” Piero held her gaze. “Come on, it’s not very likely, is it?”

“Maybe he got frightened after he killed her.”

“Frightened! From what you say he didn’t mess about; he hacked her to pieces. What did he do that for?”

“How should I know? Maybe he wasn’t a burglar, maybe he was a loony.”

“Marta, face it, no one from outside did this. It was one of them.”

She looked at him with swimming eyes, “Oh Piero, don’t say that. How could one of her own children do that?”

“No, no. It wasn’t them. It was Guido.”

“You mean, you want it to be Guido.”

“Of course, but that’s not the reason. I was thinking about that row they had. They’d never had a cross word. So something pretty bad must have happened. I reckon he’s got another woman.”

“He doesn’t look up to two women. I would’ve thought he’d got quite enough on his plate trying to satisfy Madam. She always had a passionate nature.”

“Forget all that. Think! What would have made her that furious? I’ve never heard her go that crazy.”

“She used to argue with Carletto and throw stuff around, don’t you remember?”

“Yes, but it wasn’t like this. The rows were never serious until
the Marianna episode, then she threw him out. Do you see what I mean?” Piero looked intently at her.

“Yes, I do see. You’re saying it had to be something as bad as that for her to throw him out,” said Marta in a thoughtful tone.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. I bet you he had another woman on the side and she found out and that did it, no marriage and no easy life for poor little Guido, so he came back and got his revenge.”

“You know I don’t like him but I just can’t see him doing it.”

“He must have been off his head. Anyway, there’s no one else who could have done it. No one else had any reason to.” Piero paced up and down as he spoke.

“Oh dear. Well, I suppose it would all be for the best if it was him but how are they going to prove it? No one saw him come back. We don’t even know exactly when she was killed.”

“No, I know that.”

They both mulled it over for a while.

“Perhaps he’ll confess,” said Marta hopefully.

“Perhaps.”

“I just want it to be over.”

“Let’s take the food up.”

Bruno approached the farmhouse again. It was late afternoon and if anything seemed even hotter than before. The air was heavy and thick with humidity. The appalling smell seemed accentuated too. In the courtyard an ancient man dressed in rags was wheeling a wheelbarrow of stinking manure towards the compost heap which was surprisingly close to the house. He was accompanied by a large, mangy dog of indeterminate breed that bristled and barked as soon as it caught sight of Bruno. The old man halted, set the wheelbarrow down and watched as the dog ran up to Bruno and danced around him barking furiously.

Bruno stood stock still and shouted, “Call your dog off please.”

“Who are you? What’re you doing on my land? If you’re one of them lawyers, you can fuck off out of here.” The dog barked even louder and made feints towards Bruno’s legs.

“I’m from the
Procura
.” Bruno bitterly regretted not having asked a uniformed policeman to accompany him.

“Dick, come here.” The dog reluctantly obeyed and went to stand protectively by his master. The old man waited till Bruno walked up to him and placed himself on the opposite side of the wheelbarrow so that Bruno was forced to talk to him across it. Flies buzzed loudly.

“So, what do you want? Spit it out and then bugger off.”

“I wanted to talk to you about Ursula von Bachmann.”

“The German cow.”

“I take it you don’t like Germans.”

“No, I bloody well don’t. I was here during the war and let me tell you, there are some things you don’t forget, young man.”

“You weren’t a soldier?”

“No, I’m diabetic.”

“It must have been very difficult.”

“It was. They killed my brother like a dog.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And then they come here and think they can lord it over us all over again. Why don’t they stay in their own country?”

“I take it you weren’t happy about the Signora coming to live here?”

“No, I bloody wasn’t. Her husband, that von Bachmann, made the gun that killed my brother.”

“I see.”

“Her aunt was a real Signora, a proper lady, but that bloody woman came here and killed all her cats before she was cold in her grave. She exterminated them. Only a German would do that.”

“Could you tell me what you talked about with her?”

“She wanted to buy me out and I said no and that’s about it.”

“You didn’t talk about the war?”

“Not bloody likely.”

The door opened and an old crone came out and stood beside her husband.

“What’s he want?” she asked peering at Bruno.

“How should I know? He likes wasting people’s time, talking
about the war.”

“Don’t you go getting all excited.” She patted her husband’s arm. “What do you want, anyway?” she asked Bruno belligerently.

“Were you here when the Signora came here?”

“Yes, I was. Some Signora! She wouldn’t even come into the house to say what she had to say.”

Bruno could imagine why. The steaming manure was really getting to him, but he didn’t reckon the inside of the house would be much better than the outside.

In the dining room the children chattered happily, unaware of the fact that an atrocity had taken place in the house. Lapo, on his third gin and tonic, briefly wondered what the adults would be saying to each other if the children hadn’t been there. Perhaps it was better that Isabella had decided to allow them to eat with the adults this evening. Teo was looking very tired and when Marta brought the food in and set it on the table, he sighed. Isabella, wearing an expression of wifely and motherly concern, said encouragingly, “That looks lovely. Come on, everybody let’s eat. We’ve all worked up quite an appetite swimming.”

“I’m hungry,” said Camilla and began to eat as soon as her mother set her plate down in front of her.

Marianna arrived shortly after they had all started. Isabelle said, “I’m sorry, we didn’t wait. The children were hungry and I wasn’t even sure you were coming down.”

Marianna smiled dreamily at them, “Not a problem.” She sat down and served herself, eating very little. Once again she was wearing white, this time white trousers and a sleeveless top. Conversation was confined to the children and it was only when Isabella took them upstairs at the end of the meal that the adults were free to talk.

“Do we know anything more?” asked Teo anxiously.

“You don’t think they’re going to tell us anything, do you? We’re all prime suspects.”

“Surely not. Guido maybe, but not us. She was our mother.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time that a mother has been killed
by her child,” remarked Lapo. “What do you say, Marianna?” He stared hard at her.

“I’m sure you’re right, but not in this case. I don’t think any of us would have been capable of killing Mamma.” She held his gaze.

Teo remarked, “It has to be someone who had a key to the house. I’ve been thinking and there’s no way Mamma opened the shutters. She was paranoid about it. There was no sign of a forced entry so it had to be someone with a key and there aren’t that many of us.”

“So it was Guido.” Lapo grinned. “How very convenient. It lets us all off the hook and gets rid of a ridiculous little worm of a man that none of us can stand.”

“Don’t you think he did it?” asked Marianna.

“I doubt it. He’s the sort that goes off in a sulk. I can’t see him being violent.”

“Of course he’s very fastidious and you know he can’t stand blood, he faints,” remarked Marianna chewing thoughtfully on her food.

“Marianna, you’ve been chewing the same piece of food for half an hour. Do yourself and all of us a big favour and swallow it.”

She did and then drank half a glass of water as though to make quite sure it went where it was supposed to go. “I’m not terribly hungry.”

“Eating is a duty,” said Lapo solemnly, thrusting a fork-load of food into his mouth. He chewed it and then swallowed it aided by a gulp of wine.

“To whom, for God’s sake?” asked Teo irritably.

“To yourself.”

“Right. Be serious. Do you agree it must have been Guido?”

“It must have been, if you say so,” said Lapo facetiously.

“I mean it. I’ve thought this through and there’s no one else it could have been.”