The Tuscan Mystery Trilogy

by Margaret Moore

  After that, most people dispersed, glad to get back to their warm houses, but groups of drunken shepherds continued to carouse, shrieking and laughing, until the early hours of the morning, before separating to go home, stumbling and swaying. A stray lamb bleated pitifully as it followed its owner. Silence at last settled on the town, and everyone slept, but one of them had reached his eternal rest a little earlier than the normal three score years and ten. His body had toppled from the mighty Duomo wall, to fall askew at the foot of it, and by morning when he was found, rigor mortis had set in his grotesquely distorted limbs.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The telephone rang insistently and Hilary finally emerged from the dream, in which the baby was shaking a rattle loudly while she covered her ears, and was able to croak, "Pronto." It was early, the sky still dark, and she turned on the light as she passed the phone over to a now fully awake Ruggero, who sat up and snapped "Pronto, di Girolamo speaking." He listened intently, and then said, "I'll see you there." He handed her the phone, saying, "Another boy is dead."

  "Oh my God, so it isn't Valdese."

  "Hard to tell, this one looks like an accident, he fell from the Duomo wall."

  "Who was it?"

  "Pietro Lagonda, goes to the same school as the others, same group." He was dressing hurriedly, the words coming out in bursts. "I don't like coincidences."

  Hilary sat up on the bed, and looked at the alarm clock. It was ten to six. "When was he found?"

  "About twenty minutes ago. A man going to work on the early morning shift thought the boy was drunk, but then he realised and called us. Right, I'm off. I'm sorry to leave you, I know Camilla is arriving this afternoon, but I've no idea when I'll be back. I'll be in touch. Ciao."

  He was gone. She turned the light off, and tried to sleep, but realised it was hopeless. She had yet to tell Amanda about Camilla, having preferred to wait until Alex arrived, but she would have to say something this morning. The cat walked all over her body with his heavy feet, until he reached her face and then yowled loudly at her, so she got up, knowing she wouldn't sleep anymore, anyway. "Alright Cassius, I'm coming."

  They padded quietly downstairs together and saw in the dawn in front of the kitchen fire.

  In the dark cold morning the intermittent lights of police vehicles gave the scene a macabre aspect, and the broken figure still dressed as a shepherd, feet sticking out at impossible angles, was surrounded by silent figures dressed in black. Di Girolamo approached the group and the doctor, who had been waiting, said, "I have given him a very brief examination, but I can tell you that he has been dead about three or four hours. He landed on his feet, look, both ankles are broken, also his femurs have been driven up into the iliac region with the force of the impact, so it would look as though he jumped, or at least was conscious enough to maintain a vertical position. Had he been thrown over unconscious, then his body would probably have hit the ground differently.

  "Having said this, there is a but, and this in my opinion is the big but, he has a severe head injury, and I can't see how he procured that if he took the major impact with his feet. Do you see what I mean, he would land thus, and then fall, his head would be the last thing to hit the ground, and although it could have been injured considerably, I would be surprised if it happened then. Look, for one thing, the head has fallen thus, but the blow is to the other side. Also, as you can see," he stooped and shone his torch on the wound, "there was bleeding here, but no blood on the ground. Anyway, the autopsy will sort that out, no doubt. I've finished, so if you'll excuse me."

  "Thank-you, you got here very quickly."

  "I've just come off a twenty-four hour stint as the emergency call doctor for the hospital, so I'm ready for my bed." the doctor strode off towards his car, a black Range Rover that filed the narrow street.

  Di Girolamo looked carefully at the body, and then up at the massive wall. "Cordon off the area up there, and I want careful photographs of everything. I want all blood marks carefully noted, and everything photographed. No sloppy work please. I'm going up there. Maresciallo, I want you to go down on your knees and get them to do that autopsy today, otherwise we've had it until after Christmas, and I need to know now."

  He set off up the steep slope that led to the Duomo, accompanied by two young carabinieri and a quantity of police tape. "Section off this whole area, "he indicated with his hand, “And one of you stay here. The photographer will be up here to do his job, and I'll be back when it's light. He shone his torch along the wall, but could see nothing of any interest.

  "I'll be down at the caserma." He returned to where the body was being photographed, and said to the photographer, "I am particularly interested in the wall up there, so do your best,"

  “I’ll wait till first light.”

  Maresciallo Biagioni joined him, and they walked down to their vehicles.

  "What do you think?" asked the older man.

  "I don't like coincidences and you heard the doctor, maybe he was hit on the head first," answered Di Girolamo

  "So Valdese's not our man."

  "I'd have to be one hundred per cent certain of that before I let him go. There's the little matter of the hammer burnt in the stove at his house."

  "He says he knows nothing about it."

  "He says he knows nothing about anything. His mother probably burnt it because she didn't know what else to do with it."

  "She's not saying anything, either, and they've got a legal representative coming today. Her brother-in-law organised that for them; he's a notary, himself."

  "Yes, I'll see them later. Now the first thing I want to do is find out who was with Pietro Lagonda last night and who was the last person to see him alive."

  "He was with a group of shepherds till midnight; I saw him myself."

  "Do you know who the others were?"

  "Yes. I'll get hold of them."

  "It's still early," he glanced at his watch, "not even seven yet. Well you'll have to knock them up, I'm afraid, otherwise they'll go off to work, and I need to speak to them as soon as possible."

  Amanda and James came down to a late breakfast, at ten, and when they were sufficiently awake, and Hilary was about to tell them about Camilla and Cosimo, Amanda, who had been toying with a bowl of porridge looked at James, and then said, "We've got some news. I was going to tell you yesterday, but then there was all that ghastly murder stuff, so I didn't."

  "You're expecting a baby" said Hilary.

  "Yes, you witch. How did you know?"

  "You look different. Congratulations, It's wonderful news."

  "Yes, we're very pleased."

  "When ?"

  "End of May. I knew about it while you were in England, but I didn't want to tell you till I was over three months as there were a few difficulties. Anyway everything's fine now. The other thing is that we've decided to get married,"

  Hilary burst out laughing, and seeing their surprised faces, she said, "I'm sorry, it's not funny, it's wonderful! It's just that, I was about to tell you that I'm going to get married myself."

  "What!" said James and Amanda in unison.

  "It's not that terrible is it?"

  "Of course it isn't, but you must admit it is a bit of a surprise."

  "Yes, I'm a bit surprised myself."

  "Amanda said, "You're not expecting a baby as well are you, Ma?"

  "No, though a baby does…"

  She was interrupted as someone clanged the outside bell incessantly.

  "What on earth …" Hilary rushed to the front door, and Alex jumped on her and hugged her, saying, "I thought I'd give you a surprise, so I hitchhiked from the station."

  "Oh darling, what a lovely surprise, come on in, James and Amanda are here."

  Alex went into the kitchen and Amanda shouted, "Oh no, you've got one of those horrible little beards, you look awful!"

  "What do you mean awful, carrot top. You look fat."

  "You bet I do, I'm going to have a baby."

  "Are yo
u! My God, Ma, you're going to be a Granny! Where's the champagne?"

  "Don't be disgusting, we can't drink at this time of the morning,"

  "Well, I can, but I suppose that's beside the point. Anyway, congratulations. Well done, James."

  "What do you mean 'well done, James', it's me who's doing all the hard work here."

  Hilary stood in the doorway watching them, and wondering how she was going to tell them about Cosimo.

  It wasn't until half an hour later that Amanda suddenly said, "Ma, you haven't told Alex your news," and as they all fell silent, and looked at her, she plunged in and told them the story.

  Michele Rinucci, student in economics at Pisa University, was unpleasantly surprised to be dragged from his bed at 7.15, and after hurriedly dressing, was accompanied by Maresciallo Biagioni to the police station, where he found Alessio Pinnucci, and Francesco Orsi, waiting in a corridor. As he walked in. they turned their sleepy faces to look at him, their eyes like his, rather puffy. "What's going on?" he whispered, to Francesco, who just shrugged. Alessio raised his arms, hands outspread, in a gesture that meant, "Don't ask me; it's a mystery."

  They waited without saying anything else, until di Girolamo appeared in the doorway, looked at them and said, "Francesco Orsi, please come in."

  He ushered the boy in, and indicated that he should be seated. Francesco threw himself into the chair, legs spread-eagled, and looked bored,

  "I expect you're wondering why I've dragged you out of your bed at this hour."

  "I'm sure you're going to tell me."

  "Yes, I am. I want to know what your movements were last night from midnight on, let's say until you went to bed."

  "My what?"

  "What did you do, where did you go, and with whom? Is that easy enough for you to comprehend."

  "Oh, I comprehend, alright. My problem is why do you want to know?"

  "I'll tell you afterwards. Come on, answer the question."

  "Which one?"

  "You work hard at being an unpleasant little runt, don't you?"

  The boy sat up in the chair, his eyes flashed for a moment, then he said, "Alright, I took part in the Nativity with a few friends. We were dressed up as a shepherds, we had to be at the Duomo at midnight, then when it over, we drank some vin brulé. There was quite a lot left, and it would only go to waste, so we did our best to finish it. There were still quite a lot of people around who must have seen me. I didn't do anything wrong, except drink too much, and I wasn't driving. I got home at about, well, I don't know, and that's the truth. I took off the shepherd's gear and fell into bed, and that's where I stayed until you woke me up at the crack of dawn. Now are you going to tell me why?"

  "In due course. Did you walk home alone?"

  “No.”

  “Come on; don’t make me force it out of you. Who walked home with you?”

  "Alessio, he'd parked his Ape truck in the car park near my house."

  "Where did you leave the others?”

  "Near the Duomo. The fire was still going."

  "And you've no idea what the time was?"

  "About one thirty, maybe later."

  "Did anyone else go home before you?"

  "No, I think I was the first of our group. If you must know, I wasn't feeling too good, and I was up for ages throwing up."

  "I see. Well, at this point I think it's only fair to tell you that one of your friends is dead."

  "Pietro?"

  "Why do you say, Pietro?"

  "Well, it's obvious, he's not waiting outside and the others are. What happened to him?"

  "He fell off the Duomo wall."

  "Or somebody pushed him, you mean."

  "Why should they?"

  "Oh come on, two of us have been killed, in the most revolting way, by a madman, another one had his head bashed in probably by the same maniac, and now Pietro accidentally falls off the Duomo wall. I don't buy it. No way."

  "Why, Francesco, why is someone killing your friends?" asked di Girolamo gently.

  "I wish I knew, but I don't, really I don't." He looked bewildered and di Girolamo believed him.

  "Alright, come on, you can go home now." He accompanied the boy to the door, and beckoned a young carabiniere, "Take him straight home." He watched the boy leave, then pointed at Michele Rinucci. "You next."

  The boy came in looking frightened.

  "Sit down, and tell me where you where, and what you did last night from midnight on."

  "I didn't do anything, honestly. I was a shepherd, like the others. Then I had a few drinks, and then I went home."

  "Alone?"

  "No, I went with my father. He's frightened to death about the maniac, and he insists on driving me everywhere."

  "Wise man."

  "Why, what's happened?"

  "Another of your friends is dead. He fell off the Duomo wall."

  "What! Who?"

  "Pietro Lagonda."

  "But he was with us last night!"

  "Yes, I know. Now then, Alessio and Francesco went home first, and what about you, when did you go home, and was Pietro still there when you left?"

  "Yes, he was. I left him there, I suppose it was about two o'clock, maybe earlier, my dad would know. There were still quite a few people around, older men and women as well, so he looked quite safe. I asked him if he wanted a lift home but he said somebody else had offered."

  "Did he say who?"

  "No, he didn't, he just said, I'm staying on, I've got a lift home."

  "And you don't know at what time you left?"

  "No, I can't remember, I told you. You'll have to ask my Dad."

  "Can you remember exactly who was there, when you left?"

  "Oh God! Let me think. There were a couple of men dressed up as artisans, and a woman, and maybe a guy with a mule was still there. There was still quite a group. I can't remember."

  "Well, start thinking. I need some names. I need to know who was the last person to see him alive."

  He went to the door, and beckoned the young officer, "Accompany this young man to a room where he will not be disturbed, give him a pen and paper, and get him a coffee and a brioche. He needs to wake up a bit. I'll be along later to see him." He turned to Alessio, and said, "You can come in now."

  "What's going on?"

  "Another of your friends is dead."

  "Jesus! I don't believe it. Who?"

  "Pietro Lagonda."

  "No! What you mean he got hisself done in too?"

  “I think so.”

  “But when?”

  "Last night, after the Nativity, he fell from the Duomo wall."

  "No kidding. How could someone fall offa that? You'd have to climb up on it. Why would he a done that?"

  "Nobody seems to have seen what happened, that's why I asked you here. I want to know who was the last person to see him alive, but it can't have been you; apparently you went home first with Francesco Orsi."

  "Yeah, that's right." The boy looked a bit uneasy.

  "What did you do after you left Francesco at his house?"

  "I went to get my Ape."

  "And then?"

  "Well, the truth is, that I didn't go straight home. I drove round to the bakery. I’ve got this friend what works there. I went in to yack wiv him, you know."

  "No, I don't know."

  "Well, he goes in, you know, on the shift at two, and I sometimes keep ‘im company a bit."

  "What time did you go home?"

  "I reckon it was round about three thirty."

  "So you stayed an hour and a half at the bakery? You do understand, that I shall verify what you have just told me."

  "Yeah, well, maybe I did leave a bit earlier. I don’t remember. I’d had a few drinks."

  "Stay here." He walked quickly out of the room, and put his head in Maresciallo Biagioni's office, "Find out from Alessio Pinucci's parents, what time he got in last night. Quick as you can." He returned to Alessio, who was biting a dark rimmed thumbnail.

  "Did you
see anyone later, any of your friends?"

  "Er, no."

  "Well did you, or didn't you?"

  "I don't think so."

  "What's the matter with you, you're being very evasive."

  "E what?"

  "Evasive, you're not answering my questions. Can't you give a straight forward answer?"

  "No, I'd had a bit to drink. I can't really remember nothing much."

  "I see...and you drove home in that condition."

  "I suppose so."

  "What! Can't you remember?"

  "Not really."

  "Well, I'm not going to book you for drunken driving. You're a fool, and a lucky fool if you can drive in that state." He observed the boy dispassionately. He had a long equine face, and slightly protruding teeth. His hair was tow coloured and curled onto his collar.

  "Where did you get that bruise on your neck?" asked Ruggero.

  The boy's hand shot up and covered it. "I banged into the Ape, when I was drunk."

  There was a knock, and he opened the door sufficiently for Maresciallo Biagioni to whisper, "His mother says he came in at four."

  "Fine, listen take him to a room on his own, get him breakfast, and let him think a while, I'll see him later."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  "Hello, is that Hilary?"

  "Yes, who is it?"

  "Oh, hello Hilary. I'm Miranda, Belle's daughter. I don't know if you remember me, we did meet once…

  "Of course. Have you come to take over from Jeremy?"

  "Yes, I was lucky enough to get a flight on standby, and I saw Jeremy briefly at the airport while the plane was turning round, so to speak."

  "Have you been to the hospital yet?"

  "Yes, she's still the same. They say she may wake up at any moment."

  "Let's hope it will be soon. This must be a sad Christmas for you. If you had any way of getting here for Christmas lunch, I'd say, come, but there are no trains."

  "Actually I have a hire car. I thought it would be ridiculous to be here without a car, because if, I mean, when, Belle gets better, I'll need one to take her home in."

  "Good thinking. Well look, do come up for Christmas lunch. We've got rather a full house, but we'd love to have you and you shouldn't be alone at Christmas. Both my children are here, and Alex is about your age. Besides, Belle won't miss you for half a day."