Broken Chord (21 page)

“Neither do I and I expect he told you that, right?”

“Yes he did. It must have been very upsetting to have a German come and live in the villa, right on your doorstep.”

“Yeah, well, we didn’t see much of her.”

“But she wanted you out and I’m sure you didn’t want to live next door to a German, so why didn’t you go?”

“Not my decision. Grandad won’t take her money. He’s got a thing about it, you know, because of her husband making guns.”

“Where were you on the night she was killed?”

“Out.” His body had stiffened slightly.

“Are there witnesses to that fact?”

“Yeah, everyone saw me around. I was playing snooker in the bar.”

“What time did you go home?

“About one, maybe,” he said warily.

“Did you see any vehicles on the road to the villa?”

“Oh come on, there are always vehicles. You don’t expect me to remember, do you?”

“Do you own a computer?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“What do you use it for?”

“This and that, mainly the internet.”

“Do you ever write letters?”

“No.”

“You didn’t write to Signora von Bachmann and suggest she take herself off?”

“No.”

“You didn’t threaten to do something about it if she didn’t go?”

“No.”

“I think you did.”

“Can you prove it?” He sneered.

“Claudio, will you tell me what really happened that afternoon? What did you and your grandfather do to make Ursula von Bachmann so angry? Did you talk about the war? Did you offend her national pride?”

“No way. I was real polite.”

“Did you tell her something about Guido?”

“Guido?”

“Oh come on, I’m talking about Guido della Rocca, the man she was going to marry. Did you tell her he was screwing around?”

“Me! I don’t know him either.”

“Then tell me who does. Who was hanging around that day? Who did she bump into on her way home?”

“I didn’t see anyone.”

“Did you kill her?”

“You must be joking. Of course I didn’t.” He sat up in the chair as though preparing for flight.

“You could have done.”

“But she was killed in the house, right? So how did I get in?”

“You climbed up the wisteria and went into the house via the balcony.”

“Not me.”

“Well, I don’t think your grandfather is up to it, but you are. You’re young and strong and could easily have climbed up.”

“Look, it wasn’t me. I’ve never set foot in the villa and anyway, why would I do it? It’s crazy. Prove it. Have you got proof?”

“But you did write the letters.”

“Prove it.”

“Why did you write threatening letters if you weren’t going to carry out your threats?”

“If I had written the letters maybe I wanted to frighten her off. Maybe I thought she’d go away and leave us in peace. That’s all.” It was on the tip of Claudio’s tongue to give them the info they needed but he was too frightened. The way things were looking now, they’d never believe him. Besides, tomorrow he was going to get paid for it. Why give for free today what you’ll be paid for tomorrow.

“Well, you’ve been left in peace now. You’ve got exactly what you wanted.”

Despite meticulous house-to-house inquiries there was no new information. No one had seen Guido’s white sports car that night.

“Let’s put some pressure on him. Don’t forget he lied about leaving the hotel so now he’ll tell us where he went.”

Bruno went out and Dragonetti was left reflecting that without proof that Guido was at the villa, they would have nothing, unless he confessed. The truth was, he didn’t think that Guido had done it. Bruno did. He hated men of Guido’s type and thought them capable of anything, but Dragonetti disagreed. Men like Guido didn’t kill. Guido was too refined, too delicate and besides they had independent witness statements from those who had no cause to defend him, that he couldn’t take the sight of blood. The only way he could ever have killed Ursula would have been accidentally, maybe a shove during an argument that caused her to fall and strike her head, not this premeditated murder. He just couldn’t see Guido wielding a knife while Ursula lay sleeping in her bed. A man who was known to have reacted so strongly at the sight of a little blood? On the other hand, there was no one else, except, of course, Ozzie. Was his hatred strong enough? Was he some kind of psychopath? How had got into the house? Perhaps he had a key, maybe obtained when the restoration was taking place. He made a note to contact the builders and find out if Ozzie was ever around. Perhaps he’d been employed as a labourer. He said he did a bit of this and that. It would seem likely that labouring on the villa, so handy and close to home, was perfect.

The day dragged on without them making any appreciable headway. Guido had been brought back and had clammed up. He wanted a lawyer, and refused to say another word from the moment they told him that his absence from the hotel had been documented. Bruno wanted to arrest him but Dragonetti held off. He hadn’t finished with Ozzie yet.

“Tomorrow is another day,” he remarked cryptically as he left.

“Good night, Scarlett,” said Bruno with a grin.

The family spent the day in a kind of limbo. Marianna did not come down to lunch. Isabella knocked on her door and finally got her to agree to a snack in her room.

“I’ll bring it up.”

“Marta can do it.”

“She’s got enough to do without bringing food up to you.”

“Since when have you been so concerned about the servants? Don’t forget, you’re the one who wants me to eat. Don’t make it sound as though I’m the one wanting food in my room. I didn’t ask for anything and I’m not hungry.”

“None of us are. This is the worst moment for you. I know you think life is terrible right now but we must pray that things get better. I feel sure they will.”

“Isabella, I didn’t know this side of you. What are you, some kind of missionary? You’ll be telling me to trust in the Lord next.”

“If I thought you’d listen, I might.”

Marianna suddenly remembered Teo’s wedding in the cathedral, something which Isabella had insisted on. At the time she’d thought it was for show, now she wondered.

“Well, Mother Theresa, if you want me to eat you can bring the food up and feel all virtuous and warm inside. I don’t care one way or the other.”

Lapo watched Isabella load up the tray for his sister. “I don’t see why she can’t come down. Why are you pandering to her?”

“Because she’s a child, because her mother has been brutally murdered, because she’s hardly eaten since then and because I hope she’ll eat if I take it up to her.”

Lapo felt his jaw drop open.

Teo weighed in with, “You’re right Isabella, we always forget how young Marianna is.”

“I don’t believe it,” muttered Lapo, emptying his wine glass.

A shame-faced Marianna took the tray from Isabella. “I’m sorry I was so rude and thank you. I’ll come down to eat this evening but at the moment I just want to be alone.”

“I do understand.”

At half-past three Marianna came down with the empty tray. She was dressed to go to the hospital, in white again, and phoned for a taxi.

Isabella who was about to go up and wake the girls from their afternoon nap, paused and asked, “Marianna, this boy, your fiancé…?”

“His name is Roberto, which is something no one ever seems able to remember. What about him?”

“How is he?”

“Fine. He’s going to be fine.” Marianna gave her a brittle smile. “I’ll be back for supper.”

Marta was worried about Piero. While she was upset and fighting with terrible flashbacks, he seemed to be fighting with something else. As they sat in the gloomy kitchen after lunch, with the shutters closed against the heat, she asked him what was wrong.

“Wrong, wrong! You know what’s wrong.”

“No, I don’t mean that, I know you, there’s something else. Look at you.”

“I’m worried.”

“Yes, but what about?”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“Tell me!” she said urgently, grabbing hold of his arm.

“Alright. I saw Lapo in the house at about half past twelve, maybe later, that night.”

The colour drained from her face: “What,” she said in a weak voice. “No, he came back at four. I heard him.”

“He went out but he came back before one and stayed for a while before going out again. Then he came back at four.”

“Perhaps he forgot something and came back for it. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Maybe not, but he lied about it.”

“I expect he forgot. It’s such a small thing.”

Piero sighed. Until the murderer was caught he would have no peace.

Marianna appeared at supper emanating serenity. Lapo could hardly believe that she appeared to hold no animosity towards him. He knew she was good at pretending but this went beyond anything he’d expected. She chattered with the children, and gave everyone a bulletin on Roberto which they all felt no need to comment on, with the exception of Isabella, who pressed her hand warmly and said, “I’m so glad for you.” After a meagre meal, she left the table announcing, “I’m off for an evening in front of the television.”

After she’d gone, Isabella remarked, “I know she’s got this boyfriend to keep her going, but she’s unreal. I wonder how long she can hold up like this.”

“It’s the way she copes,” said Lapo. “It’s how she’s always coped. We all had to find a way or we’d never have survived.”

“Too true,” muttered Teo. “I nearly went under.”

“That’s because your way of coping was flight.”

Teo looked at him. “We all know how you cope.”

He nodded at Isabella and they stood up, encouraging the children to move. Lapo had never seen them so united. He poured himself another drink and sat thinking. Suddenly, he remembered what he’d seen the previous day. Guido and Ozzie Rossi together in a bar. Why were they together? He revised his plans for the evening. Before going on the prowl, he was going to pay a little visit to his nearest neighbours and get the dirt on Guido, because without doubt there was dirt. That was the only thing that could link farmer-boy, Claudio ‘Ozzie’ Rossi to failed-would-be-aristocrat,
Guido della Rocca. Considering that the Rossi farmhouse had been his mother’s last port of call before her row with Guido, there must be something to find out and, as Lapo always maintained, everyone had their price.

Vanessa took the last appreciative spoonful of tiramisu, made to her mother’s recipe. “Oh God, that stuff is so sinful!”

“That’s why you like it so much. It’s hard to be enthusiastic about grated carrots, for example.”

“Oh, but I am, at the right moment.”

“Which is never, in my book.”

She laughed. “OK, for that you can make the coffee.”

He pushed back his chair and sat looking at her for a moment. Her hair was loose and shone in the light. She was tanned and brim full of life.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He got up and came round the table. He pulled her to her feet and kissed her.

“That was nice. Need I remind you that I am free this evening, no concerts or operas to review.”

“Wonderful, so we can end this fabulous meal in my favourite way.”

“Only after coffee, otherwise I’ll fall asleep.”

“Why so tired?”

“I didn’t tell you, but I spent the day at the sea with Ilaria and Francesca. The sea always makes me feel sleepy.”

“I thought you were looking exceptionally tanned. It suits you.”

“I do love the sea.”

“Well, we’ll have two weeks of it soon.”

“I can’t wait.”

“You’re alright about the girls?”

“Of course. We get on very well.”

“Good. It’s a lot to take on.”

“What is?”

“Me and my family.”

“I think I can manage. Now, where were we?”

Lapo left the house early and hung about at the end of the lane waiting for Claudio Rossi to come out. He was going to waylay him and pump him, buy his information and then throw him to the dogs. He heard the motor bike and moved to stand in the middle of the road, waving his arms. For one terrible moment he actually thought he was going to be run down, but at the last minute the boy swerved and braked. He ripped his helmet off and asked, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“I want to talk to you.”

The boy stared at him, and then got off his bike. “Alright, talk.”

“Tell me about Guido della Rocca.”

“Who?”

“Shall we stop playing games? I saw you with him in the bar near the
Procura
the other day.”

“What about him?”

“What have you got on him?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m willing to pay.”

There was a tense silence, then, “How much?”

“Depends how good the info is.”

Claudio did a few calculations in his head. This would be a one-off payment but it would be up front. Besides he could take money from both of them. What a laugh!

“A thou.”

“You’re joking. It would have to be very good for that amount.”

“It is. It’s the best.”

“I’ll give you five hundred up front and the rest after you’ve told me.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“You don’t, but you’ll have to. How do I know I can trust you?”

“If I make a deal, it’s a deal,” said Ozzie firmly.

“Me too.” They stared at each other.

“OK”

Lapo fished out the roll of bank notes he’d prepared. He doubted that the info would be worth more. He handed it over and said, “Spit it out.”

“Guido came back to the villa at about half past one on the night your mother was murdered, maybe a little earlier.”

“How do you know?”

“I saw him.”

“How long did he stay?”

“Not long. Bout ten minutes.”

“What were you doing there?”

“I was going home when I saw the car… he parked it just about here and went in on foot.”

“How come he didn’t hear you?”

“I’d slowed down to take the turn off and he was ahead of me, just parking. I braked and switched off the engine and watched. I couldn’t understand why he’d parked the car there. Anyway, he went off towards the house on foot. I parked the bike in the bushes and followed him. He let himself in with the key and came out about ten minutes later. He rushed to the car and drove off like a maniac.”

“Good, excellent.”

“So do I get the other five hundred?”

“Not now, I haven’t got it with me. You’ll get it when they arrest Guido.”

“Fuck me, you can’t mean I’ve got to go to the police and tell them. They’ll crucify me.”

“It’s up to you. If you don’t, I will. I’ll give you till tomorrow evening. If you don’t go tomorrow, I’ll go the morning after. We can enjoy watching the police chasing their own tails for a day, but that’s it.”

“If you tell them the day after tomorrow, they’ll want to know why you waited.”

“I’ll say I only just found out.”

“And what am I supposed to say?”

“You can say you were frightened they’d suspect you. After
all, what’s your word against the word of a gentleman like Guido.”

The boy made a rude noise, “Gentleman, my arse.”

“Yes, well I see we agree on the essentials. Thank you. I hope you’ll go and tell the police yourself, but that’s up to you. Obviously, if you do go, I also hope you’ll remember this conversation never took place, otherwise you won’t get another cent.”

“Done.”

The two men got into and onto their vehicles and drove off in opposite directions.