“But Zoë wasn’t with you.”
“No, she had gone with the girls to a pool party for a friend’s birthday. I was alone.”
“You could have come back and killed your mother. You had time.”
“Yes, I probably did, but I can assure that I stayed in the house. I can’t prove it but, no doubt, if you ask, some nosy neighbours will tell you my car never left the place where I parked it, which wasn’t outside the house. You see, I didn’t want anyone to know I was there. I parked nearer to town, on the main road to Lucca, near the rubbish skips. There are some houses there. It would be very strange if there wasn’t at least one busybody, at her station behind the net curtains, who noticed it.”
“Francesca, you sound very calm about all this, but I understand that the day before yesterday you had a very unpleasant argument, shall we call it, with your mother. Is that true?”
“I expect dear Emily told you about that. Apart from anything else, she is an excellent little eavesdropper.” When he didn’t reply, she continued “It wasn't an argument; it was a flaming row, and I was furious with her. I’d told her how sick and tired I was of her and Emily and those two ‘simpering bitches’, I called them that, her daughters. Then I went downstairs, to my flat, and Diana followed me, to have a little chat. She wanted to get me to go into a clinic to dry out, and she was kindly going to pay to send my poor little Zoë to a boarding school in England. When I refused, she threw me out. No wait, she gave me an ultimatum, ‘give in, or get out by the end of the month.’ I told her to go and fuck herself, in those terms. The next day, bright and early, I went house hunting.”
“I see. Well I think that just about covers everything. I shall, of course, be checking your alibi.”
“Check all you want. I never lie. Sometimes people wish I would.” she smiled.
“Thank you for your time, and your honesty. Could you please ask your sister Ambra to come in next.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Emily came in with the tea tray, as always, punctually at four fifteen. She set it down on the table, and looked at her brothers and sisters. “I’ve made tea.” She announced flatly.
“Good old Emily, keeping up the traditions of the household,” said Orlando jovially, moving towards the tea tray. He poured a cup and offered it to Ambra, who seemed to him the most in need of it.
“Come on, love, have a cuppa’, do you the world of good.”
“Oh, for God’s sake Olly, can’t you ever be serious.” However, she took the proffered cup.
“What about you Emily, are you having a cup?” he asked.
“I’ll pour it myself thank you. You’ll only put too much milk in it.”
He poured himself a cup and moved away from the table. Cosimo came to the table and poured his tea, took the cup in his hand and returned to sit in the corner near the window.
“Where’s Arturo got to then?” asked Orlando
“He’ll be here in a minute; he’s just phoning the girls.”
At that moment, he came in. “Well, they’re fine, Emily. My parents are keeping them busy, and tomorrow they’re taking them to the sea for a few days, until this is all over.”
“I’ll have to get some clothes ready to take with them then, and pack a suitcase,” said Emily listlessly.
“Well, finish your tea first, dear.”
Francesca burst into the room. “Come on Ambra, you’re for it next.”
As Ambra started and hurriedly put down her cup, Francesca reassured her, “Don’t worry darling, he’s absolutely divine, very sexy. I quite fancied him myself.”
“He likes older women,” said Orlando, “he’s got a thing going with Hilary Wright, you know, Amanda’s mother.”
“Lucky her. It’s always the way, the best men are always spoken for, that’s why you’re still single, dear Olly.” Francesca grinned at him.
Ambra, looking near to tears, said, “I hate the way you two can joke and have jolly conversations when our mother died, in that horrible way, only twenty four hours ago.”
Emily burst into tears, and Arturo moved to comfort her. Olly put his cup down and left the room, pulling Francesca with him. A few seconds later, Cosimo joined them. “I’m off; I’ve got to meet with the teaching staff. Ciao.”
In the corridor, Francesca said, “I’m going down to Zoë. What are you doing, Orlando?”
“God knows! I think that maybe I’ll go down to the pool. We can’t leave the house, and the grounds, and I don’t really know how to fill up the time.”
“I’ll join you with Zoë. We need some fresh air. See you there.”
The photographs of the footprints had arrived, and the shoe sizes were printed beside them. The soil analyses were quite interesting too. He had the photos of the body, as well, not that they could tell him much, other than that the blow must have been delivered with exceptional vigour. Madmen, have that kind of strength. Also, sometimes, someone with little experience will use more than necessary strength to be certain of doing the job properly.
Francesca reached the pool, and found Olly was in the water, swimming effortlessly. He pulled himself out of the water and flicked his hair back. She admired his well-proportioned body.
“You’re a good-looking bugger, you know.”
He bowed. “Thank you. You look great too, a bit thin, but still good for your age.”
She cuffed his arm. “What’s wrong with my age? I’m still young.”
“What’s that you’ve got there, Grapes? Can I have some? Emily didn’t bring any biscuits in, and I hardly dare ask; it would have seemed a lack of respect, to be hungry, or at least in her eyes.” He reached forwards and took some from her basket.
“You don’t pretend either, do you?” said Francesca, watching her daughter swimming laboriously down the length of the pool.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not a hypocrite, pretending to be devastated by her death. You’re like me, honest.”
“How do you know I’m not pretending to be unaffected, covering my grief under a cloak of jollity?”
She looked into his guileless blue eyes. They told her nothing. They seemed blank.
“I don’t. Are you?”
“No.”
“What will you do now?”
“I don’t know. I always thought that if I had money, then I would know what to do with it. I’ve spent so long, always desperately trying to lay my hands on it, usually to pay debts, that now I’ve got it, I presume, I don’t know what to do with it. How much do you think we’ll get?”
“Wow, you take my breath away. I said you aren’t a hypocrite, and you certainly aren’t, if all you can think about is how much you’ll get.”
“Come on, tell the truth, you’ve wondered too, haven’t you?”
“You may not believe this, but I haven’t. Anyway, there’s seven of us, and death duties, so even if the estate is substantial, we won’t be extremely rich.”
“Only, fairly rich.”
“I suppose so.”
“And you, Francesca, what will you do?”
“Exactly what I had decided to do anyway. I’m buying a house for me and Zoe. I’m trying to cut down on the drinking. I could really use one now, you know. I don’t know if I’m really an alcoholic. I use alcohol to numb the pain, and I get drunk, but not every day, sometimes not for days.”
“Pain?”
“I loved Federico you know. He didn’t want me any more. He changed, and I wasn’t what he wanted anymore. He threw me away like a toy you’ve grown out of. It’s hard to accept that. He didn’t want Zoe either, you know.”
“I didn’t realise. Poor Franny.”
“I haven’t told the others, but I’m seeing someone. I don’t know if it will become something important, but it’s good for my ego. He thinks I’m wonderful, and he’s helping me. What about you, have you got someone?”
“You know me, I can’t stick with one. I don’t think I’ve ever really been in love. Up till now, it’s always be
en sex, sex and more sex. Does that shock you?”
“Not at all. You’ll grow up one day. You seem to have been stuck in the adolescent phase for quite a long time. Instant gratification, Olly. It’s not the same as the real thing, you’ll find out.”
They stayed there, eating grapes in silence, watching Zoe plough the water, up and down, time after time. Olly sunbathed, deepening his tan, while Francesca sat in the shade flicking through magazines she had brought with her, magazines on house renovation, furnishing and gardening.
The sun followed its course across the mountains, and the light grew softer. The heat had given way now, to gentle warmth. Coming out of the water, they almost shivered.
The last rays of the sun hit the windows of the house so that they seemed to blaze, with a non-consuming, internal fire.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Ambra knocked at the study door and waited for him to call out, before entering. She came in hesitantly and stood uncertainly before the desk, waiting to be told to be seated.
“Please sit down,” he said courteously
“Ambra, I see here,” he turned a page in the folder, “that you state that you spent the afternoon in bed. More precisely, from after lunch until you came down for afternoon tea. Is that correct, or do you wish to change your statement?” He looked at her.
“No. That is, yes, I spent the afternoon in bed. I went to sleep. I’d had a bad night and was very tired. There was a storm during the night and, when the tree came down, it woke us up.”
“So, you confirm that you did not leave the room at all, during the afternoon?”
“That's right. I did not leave the room.”
“I see. Can anyone verify that?”
“I don’t suppose so.”
“What sort of a relationship did you have with your mother?”
“O.K.”
“Oh? I understood, that you had argued quite seriously with her.”
“Yes, I did, but that was all resolved.”
“In what way? What was all resolved?”
“We argued… about personal matters, and the next day I decided on what course of action to take to try and sort things out. I decided to just carry on as normal, as though nothing had happened, so she more or less had to, as well.”
“Personal matters. I presume you mean your pregnancy, and your intention of marrying Riccardo, against your mother’s wishes?”
She looked stunned, and drew in her breath sharply. “How did you know about that?”
“That was what the argument was about?”
“Yes.”
“A serious argument?”
“Well, we did get a bit carried away.”
“Your mother was quite clear. She said you would marry him, ‘over her dead body’. Perhaps you took that literally?”
“Me! You think I killed her? That’s crazy. I told you, it wasn’t a problem. I didn’t need her consent to marry, I’m of age. Why should I kill her? My own mother!”
“She didn’t want you to marry, because you are very young, and because she felt that Riccardo had got you pregnant to force her hand. She was going to fire him. Had she done that, your life would have changed dramatically.”
“True, but I would have welcomed a change. It’s claustrophobic here. Here we all are, or should I say were, birds in our gilded cage, with Madre telling us what to do, and we all did it, more or less. I wanted to be free. Riccardo was sure he would get another job. There was no reason for me to kill my mother. I didn’t kill her.”
“Perhaps Riccardo did? He wanted your money, and this was a sure way of getting it, soon, not years hence when your mother chose to die of old age, and you two were older, after years of scrimping and making do.”
“Riccardo! Good God no! How can you think that? You don’t even know him. First of all, he didn’t get me pregnant, I stupidly did that myself, I forgot to take the pill, and secondly, he was convinced that there was no problem. Ask anyone what sort of a person he is; he’s not a delinquent you know. He’s a hard working, serious person, and he loves me. He’s not after my money. We don’t need Diana’s money. I mean, didn’t need.” She stopped and flushed. “I mean we didn't need it then. He said he would have no trouble getting another job, and I believed him. He’s got a good reputation round here, and everyone knows what a good job he’s done here, at the Villa. You can think what you like, but you’re wrong. He didn’t kill my mother, and neither did I”.
“You defend him well, but I have to tell you, that he is in a very delicate situation. He was seen going towards the house at the time of the murder, and he had omitted to tell us that. His fingerprints are the only ones on the murder weapon, and he could well have left it in the vicinity for easy access. He had both motive, and opportunity, and he lied about his whereabouts. I could arrest him. I don’t know why I haven’t. Perhaps I will.”
Ambra drew in her breath sharply, but said nothing.
“Sometimes, when one is very much in love with a person, one can’t see them as they really are. Are you sure that you know him? Have you never had the minimum doubt, a niggling, worrying fear, that perhaps you don’t know him after all?”
“No” she replied stoutly. “I do know him; I’ve known him for years, since I was a child. I know I’m right, and you’re wrong. If you do arrest him, you’ll be making a big mistake.”
“Perhaps.” He paused, “Thank you. That’s all for now.”
She left the room immediately, and went straight to her bedroom. Her thoughts were, to say the least, chaotic. Did she know him as well as she said she did? Could he be this ruthless, ambitious person that di Girolamo was telling her he was? Can we ever know another person, as well as we know ourselves?
Ruggero shuffled the photographs of the footprints, and carefully reread the soil analysis report. He would be pleased when he could question Chiara. Perhaps she would be able to explain how there came to be horse dung, and the print of a riding boot, just outside the pergola. There were several different prints, which had crossed over each other, but there were also some clear ones, probably, belonging to Emily, Oliver, Cosimo and Ambra, who had all admitted being there, which Chiara had not, so far.
It was unfortunate that so many of them had gone in after the assassin, and had probably obliterated his /her prints. He looked carefully at the photographs, then punched in a number on his cell phone, “Hallo, Berto? yes, it’s di Girolamo speaking. Yes, I’ve got them here. There’s one that I’d like a blow-up of, can you do it. I’ve seen something, and I want to have a better look. Oh, can you? Great, well it’s number six, and the bit I want enlarged is the upper right hand corner. Fair enough. A.S.A.P. Ciao.”
He turned to his colleague, who was looking out of the window, and said, “O.K, we’ll call it a day here.”
They packed up their stuff and left. Looking back at the villa, di Girolamo saw Ambra at the first floor window, looking down at them. She was alone in the house now, and she looked very young. He hoped he was wrong about Riccardo. These kids all seemed to need to have some kind of security in their lives. He would hate to have to rob her of hers.
As the Guerrazzi family gathered at the table for their evening meal, they were all informed by Maresciallo Biagioni that their brother Angelo was alive, but in a light coma, in a hospital in Venice.
Ruggero sat on Hilary's terrace looking out into the black velvet night. He turned towards her as she passed him a cup of coffee.
“How well do you know the Guerrazzi family?”
“What a question. I'm not quite sure how to answer it. I suppose I should say, fairly well. I've known Diana for years, but I wouldn't say we were close friends. She wasn’t the sort of woman to have close women friends.”
“Men friends?”
“No, there was only ever her husband, alive or dead.”
“What was he like?”
“Well, when I came here, he was already over sixty, but he had tremendous charisma. He was a very attractive, vital man. Women were attr
acted to him, and it is rumoured that he had several affairs, but Diana pretended not to notice. I don't think they were important. His family was, and his career, of course.”
“What about his offspring, do you know them?”
“Not very well, I know of them, who doesn't? Alex was rather keen on one of the twins at one time. Was it one of the children?”
“Children? Is that how you think of them? They're all adults, apart from Angelo, and he's out of it. But to answer your question, I don't know yet. It could have been. It was certainly someone who knew her, and knew her habits.”
“How horrible. It always seems worse when it's someone who was trusted. One always hopes that it will turn out to be an outsider. It must be terrible for the family to think, or know, that one of them, or someone they know well, could be the murderer.”
“A domestic murder. They are the most frequent you know. We always look at the family first, and then the close friends.”
Hilary shivered. “I'm going in to get a jersey. In fact I think I might go to bed. What about you? You were up early. Aren't you tired?”
“No. I'll stay here for a bit. I want to think things through.”
“Come up soon.” She bent down and kissed him gently on the cheek before going into the house. A small black shadow detached itself from the bushes, and crept towards the house behind her. He passed by Ruggero, who called quietly to him, “Cassius!” but the cat totally ignored him.
“Ah, so you don't approve of me either.” He said to the retreating animal. Then he leant back in his chair, and continued staring into the night.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The next morning, Monday, at eight o’clock, Di Girolamo received a phone call, and subsequently met privately with a witness, who had provided an alibi for one of the family. This witness was a cousin of Riccardo Bertollini. He had been persuaded to give a false alibi to a friend, to help him out of an embarrassing situation, but was now retracting, with some remorse, hoping to help his cousin, (who seemed a likely suspect), thus proving that someone else had been free to act, had he so desired.
The Tuscan Mystery Trilogy Page 42