Broken Chord (26 page)

“Ozzie?”

“The ghastly grandson of the tenant farmer, I think I told you about him.”

“Ah, yes, Ozzie. What did he know?”

“Ozzie knew Guido had been at the villa at about the time Ursula was murdered, so you see if Guido had wanted to shut someone up it would have been Ozzie. And Guido actually told us himself that he was there, so I’m puzzled. I don’t understand why he would need to kill Lapo.”

“Why would anyone need to kill Lapo?”

“He was a very disturbed young man. Everyone told me how cruel he was and by cruel, I mean sadistic.”

“So maybe he killed his mother and got done for it.”

“Yes, but if someone knew it was him then why not tell us about it? Why become a murderer yourself?”

“So you don’t think he killed his mother.”

“No. I think the same person killed them both. It’s logical.”

“And do you have any idea?”

“Yes, I do, but I have no evidence, no proof… nothing.”

“Who couldn’t it have been?”

“That’s just it, anyone could have done it, except Marta. She loved Lapo very much and was devastated by his death. There’s no doubt about it. I’m certain she had nothing to do with it.”

“What about her husband?”

“He’s a very powerful man in that house. He runs it. He made no bones about not liking Lapo, but I’m sure he would have killed
him years ago if he was going to.”

“So that’s two out of it. Who else is there?”

“Tebaldo, the one you knew at school, and his wife Isabella. She told me she could have cheerfully strangled her mother-in-law, who snubbed her continuously and he… well, he went out that night, I’m sure of it but no one’s saying anything. I’m going to press him further on that. What’s more, he found both bodies which is a great way of explaining any forensic evidence you might leave at the crime scene. You were there, you left a trace.”

“And did he?”

“No, just some blood on his shoe.”

“And his wife?”

“No trace of her ever having been in the room. She hated both Ursula and Lapo. That’s all.”

“And the sister?”

“Marianna. The girl is rather strange. She seemed quite unemotional about her mother’s death but she fainted when she heard her brother was dead.”

“Not surprising really, that’s two members of her family killed in the house.”

“Mmm. Of course she could easily have killed them both. She never leaves the house at night. Her fiancé has been run over and she goes to see him at the hospital every day. Apart from that she spends nearly all her time in her room. There was some trouble with her mother over this boy, Roberto… hang on, Roberto, now I wonder if he’s the same Roberto…” His thoughts raced. Roberto… drugs, Marianna spaced out, maybe on drugs?

“Sorry, I’ve just had an idea. It might come to nothing and it might mean nothing but I’ll need to check it. Anyway, enough of all this, let’s eat.”

“I haven’t cooked anything.”

“So, we’ll eat out. What’s your fancy?”

“Actually, I fancy Indian. It’s terribly good for you in the hot weather.”

“Then we must have it, every day.”

“Idiot, but seriously, shall we?”

“I’ve just said yes. What are you waiting for?”

“I’ll go and get changed. I won’t be a mo’.”

Jacopo sat down beside the cat and stroked it. A loud purring was his reward. The little animal closed its eyes and relaxed completely. Vanessa returned shortly afterwards wearing beige linen trousers and a short-sleeved top. She had combed her hair and left it loose.

“Jacopo aren’t you going to change?”

“No, can’t be bothered. Won’t this do?”

“Actually you look fine. Anyway I’m too hungry to wait any longer.”

Jacopo got up. “Ciao Rossini,” he said, caressing the little animal which stared back at him with amber eyes.

But despite the excellent food served on a delightfully cool terrace, his thoughts wandered towards the von Bachmann family; Marianna so calm and secretive who had fainted when told of her brother’s death, yet he had never thought she was that fond of Lapo. Was it fear for her own safety that had shaken her so much. She had asked, “Who’s next, Tebaldo?” Did she think her brother was responsible for these deaths. Tebaldo had definitely not been in his bed all night when his mother was murdered. Perhaps the only person that Lapo would not tell the police about was his brother. Had he seen something? Was that why he had had to die?

“Jacopo, when we are out together, you might speak to me.”

“Sorry, you seemed to be totally engrossed in eating. I didn’t want to interrupt your enjoyment.”

“You, on the other hand have eaten very little. Don’t you like it?”

“It’s very good. Sorry, but I was lost in my thoughts.”

“Elektra and Orestes.”

“Something like that.”

“That’s an amazing piece of music. We haven’t got a recording of it.”

“I’ll get you one.”

“No I will. It’s for you, to help you see things more clearly.”

“I wish it were that easy.”

“I can see you’re still leaning towards matricide.”

“Am I? Yes, I suppose I am. Let’s say with this kind of crime you always think of the family first.”

“And the extended family.”

“Piero the exemplary manservant. Yes, he would be perfect. You know there’s something strange about him. Do you realise he and his wife have spent the last twenty-five years of their life in service to the family.

“And they are very loyal.”

“Yes, though one has to wonder how much they’ve had to put up with and whether they would have liked to leave but were coerced into staying.”

“Ursula pressuring them in some way to stay, a sort of blackmail.”

“What secrets could they have?”

“It’s very unhealthy this living at such close quarters, like family but not family. You said Piero was powerful, how powerful?”

“I don’t know, but if he had something on them, then he would have been the victim.”

“True, you seem very taken with his wife, Marta.”

“She is quite open about her feelings. I would never believe her capable of violence… maybe to protect Lapo, but this wasn’t the case here.”

Unless she was stopping him from doing further harm.”

“If you’d heard her when she knew he was dead! Her screams were heard all over the house. They had to get a doctor to sedate her. There was nothing contrived about her grief.”

“Jacopo, can we just eat and then maybe walk along the riverside?”

“I’m sorry. Of course. I love the river at night, but I don’t want to be too late. I have to go in early tomorrow morning and check a few things before I set my trap for Ozzie.”

“I promise I won’t keep you out late but I might take up some of your time when we get home.”

They smiled at each other.

“I think that would be quite agreeable,” he replied and set to work to finish his meal.

When Bruno got into the office the next morning, Drago was already there wreathed in cigarette smoke.

“So you’ve given in. You didn’t last long this time.”

“I had to start again. I’m eating too much and my jaws ache from chewing gum. Also I need nicotine in order to concentrate.”

“Yeah, yeah. Excuses.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Well, I wish you wouldn’t do it in the office. It’s against the law.”

“Yes, I know that too, and I’m going to give you cancer and so on. Sorry.”

He took another long drag on the cigarette and then threw it out of the window. It sailed down to the courtyard three floors below. “Report me if you like.”

Bruno grinned, “To whom, yourself?”

“Of course. Who else? The autopsy’s on for this morning.”

“Who’s doing it?”

“Doctor Bini.”

“Not a famous doctor for this one.”

“No, but it looks pretty straightforward.”

“Not half as taxing as Ursula’s body.”

“No. Listen, we need to set up the arrest of Claudio Rossi. Guido said they’re meeting at eleven, so organise that, will you. I want a man in the bar before they get there and one outside. After
that we’ll do a house search at the Rossi farmhouse.”

“What are we looking for, blood-stained clothing? There won’t be any. He’ll have got rid of everything by now.”

“Yes, I know but it will shake them all up and you never know what you’ll find in the house of someone like that. Get Spadaccia onto it.”

“Are you hoping to find signs of an obsession with the von Bachmanns?”

“Not really, just whatever comes to light. Now, listen. I’ve just remembered something that may or may not be important. You remember Marianna’s fiancé, Roberto Bianchi?”

“He’s in hospital. An accident, right?”

“Right. Well I didn’t know his name until yesterday and I suddenly remembered he was being watched by the drug squad, suspected of dealing. I checked as soon as I got in. It was a hit and run.”

“How does that come into it?”

“I don’t know. It’s just that there are too many coincidences. Two murders and an attempted murder in the same small town.”

“Drago, a hit and run is usually an accident.”

“Yes, but when the victim is a dealer then one has to ask, is it an accident?”

“Agreed, but how do you tie it in to the other murders?

“I just have a feeling about this being connected in some way. I was thinking of Ozzie. Where does he get his money from? I’ll be very interested to see what turns up when his house is searched.”

“You think he’s part of the drug scene?”

“I hope so. It would provide another link to the villa.”

“It’s still tenuous.”

“It’s better than nothing.”

Marianna came down for breakfast for the first time in weeks. Teo looked at her in astonishment. “You got up!”

“Yes. Well I woke up, so I thought, why not?”

“Good. Piero’s made the coffee and brought the bread and stuff up.”

“How’s Marta?”

“He says she slept all through the night and has just woken up. He’s waiting to see if he should give her another dose.”

“Poor Marta.”

“We’ll manage alright without her. We’ve got lots of bread for sandwiches and I thought I might do a cold rice salad as well for the picnic.” Isabella sounded very practical.

“I’ll help you prepare everything,” Marianna offered.

“Thanks.”

The sun was shining and the sky was completely cloudless. Mariana sighed as though carrying a great burden. “I’m looking forward to a relaxing day at the pool. I need some time out.”

“Will you be going to the hospital?” Isabella asked.

“Yes, but I thought I’d go later today, at about six.”

The children were watching her. “Will you watch me swim today?” asked Arabella.

“I most certainly will.”

“And me, and me,” echoed Camilla.

“And you.”

“Are you alright Marianna?” asked Teo gently.

Marianna turned her expressionless blue eyes towards him, “Not really, but we have to pretend, don’t we.”

“Yes, I suppose we do. I have a thousand questions buzzing round my head.”

“There aren’t any answers.”

“No, but there will be. I think that’s what worries me.”

“Why does it? When this is settled, we’ll all be alright.” She spoke in a reassuring tone.

“I hope so. You know it’s quite awful, I keep thinking things that well, make no sense.”

“Like what?”

“I even have my doubts about Piero.”

“Piero! Never.”

“What do we know about him really? What do we know about his relationship with the recently deceased?” Teo said cryptically.

“Good God, you can’t mean what I think you mean.”

“Why not? He might have, you know. Don’t forget certain appetites have to be met, so who met them during the periods when no one else was around? Think about it.”

“I really don’t want to think about it.” She sounded slightly disgusted.

“Yes, but as a hypothesis, suppose he did provide this service, which was no doubt to his advantage, then along came this little upstart who was going to be a permanent fixture.”

“Yes, but surely if he was going to eliminate someone it would have been the upstart, besides the upstart was out of the picture anyway.” She gave him a cool stare. “What you’re saying doesn’t make sense.”

Isabella said firmly. “I’m going to the kitchen with the girls. You can continue your cryptic conversation more freely without us here.”

“I’ll join you in a minute.” As soon as she had left the room, Teo continued urgently, “You know how close they were. She relied on him for everything.”

“Yes, but not sex. Come on.”

“But suppose she did and then Guido came along and they announced the engagement. Maybe Piero was so pissed off they had an argument and then he went mad. Don’t forget he was the last person to talk to her, the last to see her. We don’t know what was said.”

“Piero! No way.”

“Look Marianna, someone went mad in there. It was horrific. It wasn’t me and it wasn’t you, so who does that leave?”

“Guido, of course.”

“He might have killed Mamma, but Lapo?”

“The same applies to Piero. If he killed Mamma because he was angry with her, why did he kill Lapo? It doesn’t add up. Come on Teo.”

“Suppose Lapo saw something when he got home, you know, Piero coming out of her bedroom or something.”

“He would have told the police,” Marianna said firmly.

“You know what Lapo was like, he would have liked to play
cat and mouse first, make him suffer.”

“This is all crazy. I think you’re quite wrong.”

“Well, I don’t think Guido did it. I saw him that time when Mamma cut herself. He really has a thing about blood.”

“Then it was someone from outside. Maybe the author of those anonymous letters Piero told us about. We don’t know who wrote them. Maybe it was someone completely crazy.”

“Yes, but letter-writers aren’t usually murderers, are they?” replied Teo. “And if he did, then how did he get in and why kill Lapo?”

“If it’s someone who’s sick in the head, then the reason might not make sense to us. Maybe he’s going to kill all of us.”

“We must be very careful. I really do feel that we’re all in danger.” Teo placed a hand on his stomach and pressed hard as though discussing the murders had reawakened the nausea.

“But we’ve got a police guard now and you said you’re hiring one when the police have finished here.”

“I know, but what if it is Piero? He’s already in the house.”

“It isn’t Piero, even if you’re right about him and Mamma, because the thing with Guido was over. Look Teo, Piero’s been with us forever, why should he suddenly go mad and start killing us all?”

“I don’t know. I just want this to be over. I’m worried about Isabella and the girls.”

“I’m worried about all of us. There has to be a reason for these murders. I just can’t work out what it could be.”

“That’s actually not true. You know as well as I do that crazy people don’t need a proper motive. Sometimes they just obey some inner voice that tells them to do it.”

“Yes, but why pick on us?”

“If we knew why, we might know who.”

“It’s no good Teo. I’ve racked my brains and all I ever come up with is Guido.”

“I know everything points to him for Mamma’s death, but Lapo?”

“Well, they hated each other.”

“That’s not enough. Maybe someone else killed Lapo.”

“Teo, leave it alone. Don’t think about it. That’s what I try to do. It’ll only make you ill. I’m going down to help Isabella.”

At ten minutes past eleven Claudio Rossi parked his gleaming motorbike and ran a hand over it in a caress. He loved the bike more than anything. It was like a part of him. He sauntered over to the café and saw that that Guido was already there, reading a newspaper. He went in and stood in front of him. Guido looked up and said, “You’re late.”

“In a hurry, are you?”

“No, I just thought you might have changed your mind.”

Claudio snorted, “Very funny. You wish! Got the money?”

“Yes.”

“Hand it over.”

“How do I know you’ll keep your trap shut?”

“You don’t. You’ll just have to trust me.”

“I’d as soon trust a poisonous snake. Here you are, take your money and much good may it do you.”

As soon as Claudio had put it in his pocket, another customer, who was talking on his mobile phone, stood up and began to leave the bar. He put his phone away as he passed their table. Suddenly he whipped round and grabbed Claudio’s arm, forcing it up behind his back, “You’re under arrest.” Claudio struggled but his arm was held in such a vice-like grip that it was agony.

“Alright, alright. I give in,” he gasped.

Another man entered the bar and the two of them held Claudio, one on each side.

Guido stood up and said, “Well you little shit, you’ve got yours.”

“You’ll be sorry. You’ll pay for this.”

“It might be better if you stopped threatening me in front of the police.”

They group made off towards the police headquarters.

Primo Rossi opened the door and stood blinking in the sunlight. Maresciallo Spadaccia shouldered him aside and entered the house waving a piece of paper at him. Two of his men entered behind him.

“I have a search warrant here for your grandson’s room.”

“Over my dead body.” The old man raised his hands as though to push them out.

The other policemen positioned themselves one each side of Spadaccia.

An old lady appeared in the hall and shrieked, “The police! Whatever next? What are you doing here? We’re respectable people.” She clutched her worn dress around her.

“Madam, we have a search warrant. Show us your grandson’s room or we’ll go and find it ourselves.”

“He’s not in.”

“We know that. He’s been taken in for questioning.”

“What for?” Primo Rossi asked in a frightened voice. “You’re not trying to pin that murder on him, are you? He never killed her.”

“Signor Rossi, just show us the bedroom.”

“They don’t have the right!” shrieked the old lady.

“Pia, pack it in. Go back into the kitchen. I’ll deal with this.”

The old man waited until she had obeyed him and then walked towards the stairs. They all followed him. He went at a snail’s pace, favouring his good leg. On the landing he paused and then pointed at a door, “It’s that one, but the door’s locked. He don’t let no one go in there.”

Spadaccia gestured at one of his men and in one smooth moment the door was forced open. The three men went in and closed the door behind them.

Claudio Rossi sat on a chair, his hands were handcuffed behind him.

“Can’t you take these off,” he whined.

“Not yet. I don’t trust you. Let’s talk about the night that Ursula von Bachmann was murdered.”

“What about it?” It seemed he was incapable of speaking without using an insolent tone of voice, even when he was in handcuffs and had been caught committing a criminal act.

“You have been withholding important information.”

Claudio said nothing.

“Why don’t you tell us exactly what you saw that night?”

“Why should I help you? I’m not a grass.”

“No, of course you’re not. I can understand you’ve got a code of honour. You’re not a grass, you’re a blackmailer which is quite a different kettle of fish. Grasses send other people to prison while blackmailers go there themselves.” Dragonetti grinned at him. “So which do you prefer?”

“What do I get out of it?”

“This is a first offence. I think you’ll find that things will go better for you if you help us. You’re far more likely to get a suspended sentence.”

“Alright. I saw Guido della Rocca go into the villa that night, you know when the German woman was killed, at about half past one and come out again about ten minutes later.”

“What was he wearing?”

“A poncey suit.”

“Was he wearing the same clothes when he came out?”

“Yes. He came out of there like a shot out of a gun. He ran towards the car so fast I hardly had time to hide. Then he took off driving like a maniac.”

“Was he carrying anything?”

“No.”

“Did you see anyone else?”

“No. I went straight home afterwards.”

“And you thought about what you’d seen and the next day when you heard about the murder you decided to blackmail Guido della Rocca.”

Claudio bowed his head and said nothing.

“What were you doing there at that time of night?” asked Bruno.

“I was going home.”

“You don’t have to go through the grounds of the villa to get home.”

“No. I was behind della Rocca on the main road and when he parked I turned my engine off and watched him. I thought it was strange, you know, him parking on the access road like that. I got off my bike and hid it and then I watched him.”

“Shall I describe a different and equally valid scenario?” asked Drago.

The boy looked quickly at him. “I’ve told you what happened. There wasn’t no other scenario.”

“You stole the key to the villa from your aunt Laura and used it to go into the house. You went in through the kitchen door and picked up a knife on your way. Perhaps you wanted to steal something and Ursula von Bachmann came out of her bedroom and found you there, or perhaps you went there with the express intention of killing her. No matter, you killed her, you had to. You left the villa without stealing anything, and as you were making your way back to the bike, you saw Guido della Rocca arrive and watched him go into the villa. You then decided that this would be a great way of deflecting suspicion from yourself and making some money out of it too, so you blackmailed him.”