The Tuscan Mystery Trilogy

by Margaret Moore

  And most important of all, where was Madre? At twenty past four she heard footsteps approaching, the door opened and Chiara rushed in, an apology on her lips, “Sorry, I know I’m late.”

  “So is everyone else,” said Emily tartly.

  “Yes, so I see. Where is Madre, she’s always punctual?”

  “Well, today has been very hectic, so I expect she’s sleeping a little longer. The meeting isn’t till five.”

  The door opened and Ambra entered the room. “Where is everybody?”

  “They’re all even later than you. Come on Emily, pour us a cup, there’s no point in waiting,” said Chiara.

  “Do you think we should?”

  “Good God, woman, what is the matter with you. You are allowed to drink tea without a direct order from the boss you know,” Chiara said in a scathing tone.

  “If you want tea, Chiara, pour it yourself. I don’t understand why you all have to make fun of me all the time.”

  Orlando came in obviously freshly shaved, bathed and perfumed. “Sorry I’m late, but I had to shower. It gets hot in my room after lunch, and I was very sweaty and revolting.”

  “Well, you look cool enough now.”

  “Yes, I feel much better. Madre had hers already?”

  “No, she hasn’t come in yet,” said Emily in a worried tone.

  “Pour me some, would you, Emily?”

  “No, pour it yourself. What do you think I am, your servant? I’m going to see if Madre is awake. She has a meeting at five, and she’ll want to shower first, and it’s already half past four.” She bustled out. Orlando poured himself a cup of tea, and drank it without adding anything.

  Ambra took a biscuit and nibbled at it. She was feeling much better. She looked out of the window and saw a large black bird sitting on the fallen cypress.

  “Chiara, is that a raven?”

  Chiara joined her and watched as the bird took wing. “ Yes I think it is. How strange, I’ve never seen one round here before,”

  “They bring bad news, don’t they?”

  “If you are superstitious. Here, have a biscuit, they’re your favourites. What about you, Olly? There are some of those chocolate ones you like, though how you can, I don’t know.”

  “Easy,” he said, popping a whole biscuit into his mouth and scrunching it up.

  Ambra who was still looking out of the window said, “There’s Emily! What’s the matter with her?”

  The others rushed to see, alarmed by her voice. Emily was weaving about the garden, weeping and talking to herself. Suddenly she fell to the ground and remained immobile.

  “Oh, my God, do you think a snake has bitten her?” asked Ambra, but Olly and Chiara had already left the room and were rushing to see to their sister. Ambra watched them as they bent towards her, and saw Emily come to her senses. Chiara seemed to be talking urgently to her. Olly suddenly got up and rushed away round to the side of the house.

  ‘Madre,’ thought Ambra. ‘Something has happened to Madre!’ She ran out of the room, and out of the house, going straight to the pergola. Olly had reached it before her and stood still, looking down at the sun-bed. Slowly, as though in a dream, she moved towards him, stood beside him, and looked at her mother. This was not a dream, it was a nightmare; surreal, impossible for it to be true.

  Diana lay on her side, as she always slept, but the back of her head was cleaved into two separate parts, and between them, blood, bone and white matter oozed. Her hair was stained and the blood had dripped down to the paving stones where little ants were already greedily feasting. An angry buzzing of flies around the wound was so horrific, that Ambra turned and vomited. Tears were forced from her eyes as her body heaved and convulsed. She wiped her face with her hands and said weakly, “Cover her.” She shuddered and looked hopelessly at her brother. “For God's sake,” she muttered before turning to vomit again.

  Orlando moved and slowly turned towards her, He handed her a handkerchief and said, “You do it”

  “Look at me!” She coughed, blinking back tears. “I can’t.”

  He stepped towards the dreadful thing that had been his mother and threw the handkerchief over the wound. It was too small, but it seemed less indecent now. He took Ambra by the arm, and said, “We have to call the police. She has been murdered.”

  “Murdered! Of course. Of course. But who would kill her, who would do this terrible thing? Oh God, I’m going to be sick again. I can’t stay here.” She ran away from him and into the house. He followed, but she bolted herself into the bathroom. “Ambra!” he called through the closed door. "Don't leave me alone."

  “Go away.” He heard her retching again, and went back out to Emily. She was now sitting, white-faced and shaking, rocking her body to and fro’, and mumbling to herself.

  “Emily!” he called sharply. “Pull yourself together!”

  She seemed not to have heard him and her movements continued rhythmically.

  Orlando went back into the house and called the police. Although they asked him to touch nothing, he went to the linen cupboard for a sheet. He forced himself to go back and cover her body, something that he thought absolutely necessary. After that, he quickly went into the kitchen to tell Signora Bianchi that his mother was dead, that the police were coming, and that she must remain in the kitchen. He also asked her to make some coffee. Then, he went back to the phone and called their family doctor, explaining the situation and asking for help for Emily. He called the Music School, got hold of Mario and told him briefly that his mother was dead, and the meeting was off. Finally he went to the drinks tray, poured himself a drink and took it to the window where he watched Emily, sipping his whisky, while he waited for the police.

  Suddenly he put down his drink, and rushed back to Signora Bianchi, who was sitting in stunned immobility in the kitchen, dabbing at her reddened eyes with a handkerchief, and told her that when the girls came home she was to keep them away, take them away, anything, but not let them near their mother, nor the pergola. He rushed downstairs to tell Francesca, but she was out too.

  The police arrived very quickly. The local Maresciallo had been on good terms with Diana and they had had frequent contacts because of the foreign students' permits and sometimes their problems. Orlando braced himself and went down the stairs to meet him.

  “Where is your mother?” asked Maresciallo Biagioni tersely

  “At the side of the house. There is a pergola; it’s cool, and she always sleeps there. She’s in there. I’ll show you the way.” He spoke fast, in staccato sentences, catching his breath.

  They walked together round to the pergola. Orlando halted and pointed, saying, “I covered her with a sheet, I know I shouldn’t have, but it seemed the right thing.” His voice broke. “There were flies… I couldn’t bear it.”

  “Yes, I see. Alright Orlando, go back wait inside the house.”

  “Oh, by the way, I’ve phoned the doctor, Emily seems to have had some sort of a nervous reaction. I can’t make her hear me. She’s gone to pieces… anyway, I thought it best.”

  “You did the right thing. Now don’t you worry about anything. I’ll see the doctor when he gets here, and then we’ll get her settled.” He looked across the lawn to where Emily was visible, a huddled figure, rocking and weeping. “She’ll be alright there for now. She won’t even notice we’re here. Have you had a drink?”

  “Yes, a brandy, just now. Why?”

  “Because it’s probably the best thing for you right now. Go into the house now, please, and stay there. I’ll be along later to talk to you.”

  Orlando returned to the house, and made another quick phone call before sitting down rather abruptly on a chair in the drawing room. The tea was cold now, but no one would want to drink it anyway

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Orlando sat nursing his drink and staring at nothing. He could hear voices, and cars drawing up, doors slamming, and shouts. The police were arriving with all their paraphernalia; doctors to examine the body, and men to seal off
the scene and look for clues, and photographers. Footsteps drew nearer and the door opened. It was their family doctor. He advanced on Orlando, hands ready to clasp his shoulders, and hugged him in an age old gesture of solidarity. Then he looked at him and said, “This is truly a terrible thing.” He paused a moment to gain control of himself. “Now, where is your sister?”

  “Come, I’ll take you to her, if they’ll let me.” He led the way out onto the terrace and towards the steps. They could both see Emily, locked in her misery, still rocking her body, oblivious to all the activity going on a few metres away from where she sat. A uniformed policeman moved to halt them, but recognising the doctor allowed him to pass. Orlando he stopped with a gesture. “I’m sorry sir, you’ll have to go back into the house,” so he turned away and went back into the house. Ambra was coming downstairs. Her face was blotchy and her eyes reddened.

  “They’ve arrived,” she said flatly. It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes, we have to stay in the house. Doctor Piacentini has arrived, and is seeing to Emily. She’s gone completely off her head.”

  “Where’s Chiara?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since I left her with Emily. When I went back, she had disappeared.”

  “I don’t think she’s in the house.”

  “No.” He took a sip of his drink. He waved his brandy glass at her “I don’t suppose you want a drink?”

  “God, no. I’ve been throwing up till now. Oh Olly. I can’t believe it. Tell me it isn’t true.” Her eyes filled with tears again.

  “Perhaps you had better see the doctor too. Ambra, do you think Chiara is alright? I mean you don’t think she’s gone like Emily?”

  “No, that is, I don’t know, maybe. No, she’ll be alright. She’s probably run off to be alone. Olly, what will happen now?”

  “They said to stay in the house. I suppose they’ll check out the scene and then take her away. I expect they’ll come and ask us some questions later.”

  “Oh. You mean like did we see anything, or anyone.”

  “Yes, that sort of thing. They will probably want to know where we were when it happened.”

  “Us! What does that mean? You don't think they might imagine, for one moment, that one of us did it, do you?”

  “Well that’s their job, isn’t it, to suspect everyone.”

  “That’s terrible. You mean we will have to worry about proving we didn’t kill our mother, when all we want to do is be left alone.”

  “Ambra, that’s what happens in a murder case. Anyway, it may not come to that. Perhaps they’ll find who did it straight away, and we’ll be left in peace.”

  The door opened again and a tremulous voice said “Permesso”, then Signora Bianchi came in with a tray of coffee. She set it on the side-board.

  “Oh you poor children! Your mother was a saint. Who can have done this?” She implored an answer, with tear-laden eyes.

  “Sit down and have a cup of coffee with us. The police will find whoever did this terrible thing,” said Ambra, feeling incapable of any answer that wasn’t a platitude.

  “That won’t bring her back though will it? And how will you all manage, now that she’s gone? There’s not many women looked after their families as well as she did, with no thought for herself. After your father died she was so alone, and all you children to bring up on her own. It was very hard for her. She was a wonderful woman.” She blew her nose and reached out for her coffee cup. She drank it down and asked, “Shall I take some down to the police?”

  “Ask them first. Have you seen Francesca?”

  “No, she hasn’t come back yet, and a terrible shock it will be for her when she comes home and sees the police, and all this. Where’s Chiara?”

  “She ran off somewhere.”

  “So she knows?” They nodded, and she added, “Then she’ll be with her horse. She always goes there, when she’s upset. By the way, I don’t know if you noticed but Cosimo’s car is in the garage. I don’t know when he got back because I haven’t seen him.”

  “Where’s he got to then? He’s not here, unless he’s in bed. I’ll go and have a look. At least we’re allowed to move freely inside the house.”

  He sped upstairs and knocked on the door of the room that Cosimo shared with Angelo.

  “Are you in there, Cosimo? Can I come in?”

  Receiving no answer, he opened the door. The room was empty. He checked the two bathrooms and found they were empty too. Then he looked in the bedroom belonging to Ambra and Chiara, and his own, before hesitating outside the girls’ room. Why should Cosimo be there? He opened the door and looked in, but it was empty. He didn’t bother with Emily’s room, but returned to the drawing room.

  “I can’t find him. He’s not upstairs.”

  “Could he have gone to Francesca’s?”

  “Shouldn’t think so; anyway, she’s out.”

  “Olly, did you look in the nursery?”

  “No, why would he go there?”

  “How should I know, but if he’s nowhere else, and he can’t be outside or the police would have found him, why not there?”

  “OK, I’ll go and see.”

  He went up to the top of the house. The rooms had lower ceilings here and there were bars on the windows. He looked in the little bedrooms and the playroom, the bathroom and the kitchenette. Nothing. The walls still had pictures of animals and an illustrated alphabet. In the toy cupboard, there were still boxes of Meccano and Lego, dolls, bricks, books and stuffed toys. He opened the door, and pulled out a box of toy cars. There were still some of his own; he could recognise an aircraft carrier, tanks and some lunar modules, which were now tarnished from numerous battles. He hadn’t been up here for a long time. It had been their living quarters for so long, but now it seemed incredibly small and as far removed from him, as his childhood. He closed the door and went back downstairs.

  “He’s not there either.”

  “He must be somewhere! We’ve got to find him, I want to tell him myself, not have the police do it.” She stood up resolutely and went to the door,

  “I’m going to look in the rooms on this floor.”

  “All of them?”

  “Yes.” She left, closing the door,

  She looked in the dining room, and then cautiously opened the door of her mother’s study. They were empty. The only room left was her mother’s bedroom, which she couldn’t remember entering for a long time. It had been a private place for her mother, and she was loathe to violate that privacy now. She opened the door and looked in, unable to step over the threshold. Lying on the bed, fully dressed, was Cosimo. She went up to him, thinking he was asleep, but he was lying there staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

  “Cosimo.”

  “Yes.”

  “You know?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who told you?”

  “I saw.” He slowly turned his head and looked at her. “I saw her. I was coming home, and I went to the pergola, and she was dead. So I came here.”

  “Why didn’t you call us?”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “The police are here; they’ll be coming to question us later, so you had better come into the drawing room with us. They told us to wait there.”

  He got up very slowly, like an invalid, as though his body were reluctantly obeying him.

  “I didn’t do it.”

  “No. I know:”

  “Do you? I could have, though. God knows, I wanted to after the argument we had.”

  “I know. It was the same for me. You feel this terrible rage, and want to lash out, but you don’t. You could, but you don’t. Come on.” She took his hand and led him towards the door. “Cosimo, don’t say what you’ve just said to me. Don’t say it to anyone.”

  “No. What shall I say?” he looked pathetically young.

  “Just say you got here, at whatever hour you please, and went to your room. Then you came down to wait for mother, because you needed to see her privately. You knew
nothing of her death, until I came and told you.”

  They met the doctor in the hall. “Ambra, I have settled your sister in bed and given her a sedative. She’ll sleep for quite a while. When she wakes up she should be able to face things a bit better. Discovering her mother’s body was a terrible shock for her, and now she has to rest. She’ll be alright. If she’s not, well, call me. I’ll come by tomorrow, anyway. Take these tablets here, they're sedatives, and give her one if you think she needs it. Don’t hesitate to call me.” He paused, “How are you my dear, you look a bit shaky yourself.”

  “I’m alright. I don’t want anything, if that’s what you mean, I can’t anyway,” she hesitated, and then added, “I’m pregnant.”

  If he was surprised he didn’t show it, just added.” In that case, of course, I can’t give you anything. Try some camomile tea, my older patients swear by it.” He bustled out. Cosimo looked at his sister, “Are you?”

  “Am I what? Oh, pregnant. Yes, I am. Don’t tell the others for now. Everything’s getting on top of me. I can’t face much more.”

  They went into the drawing room. Francesca had arrived, and was standing tensely looking out of the window. She turned as she heard them come in.

  “Oh, Ambra, isn’t this incredible.”

  “If you mean unbelievable. Yes.”

  “Well, I meant shocking as well. You know, I thought she was eternal, immortal, all powerful, always manipulating, meddling in other people’s lives, playing God. I thought she was eternal, like God, but she was as mortal as any of us. That’s what I meant by incredible.”

  Ambra replied, “Yes, I do know what you mean. I could never imagine she would die, like other people. She never seemed to get any older. She looked the same now as she did when I was a child so, I suppose, I sort of thought she would always be there, exactly the same.”