The Tuscan Mystery Trilogy

by Margaret Moore

  He put his key in the lock and went in, relieved to hear happy voices and laughter; then he joined them in the living room. The baby was sitting in his playpen, and seemed to be very busy with new toys. Alex was telling them about his journey, and Camilla looked better than when he had seen her a week ago. They all seemed quite relaxed. He was sorry to interrupt with his presence, and told Alex, to finish his story. "I want to hear the rest of it too. I heard the first part while I was taking my coat off."

  "Right, where have I got to? Oh yes, so then this guy, says goodbye to all his family, and they're all looking tearful, and then he takes out this packet of shrimps. The smell! In a small railway carriage. I thought he'd never finish eating them. It was awful. Then when he did finish, he wiped his hands on the newspaper, and didn't go and wash them! Anyway the whole time he was popping these shrimps into his mouth he was telling me his life story. He'd emigrated forty years earlier to the north of France, with the intention of making his pile and then when he retired, he intended going back home to the South of Italy. In the mean time, he had four children, all adults now, who married French nationals, and who all had children. So, everyone's happy, but then he retires, and says to his wife, "Right, it's time to go home."

  "Home," she says. “You have to be joking, all our family is here! This is our home." But he's got it fixed in his mind that he's going back, so to cut a long story short, he made them sell the family house, and he took half the money, and he was going home alone!"

  "Really!"

  "Yes, and what's more he had all the money about his person! No kidding, he showed me some of it. He was absolutely paranoid and kept checking that we'd locked the door, and warning me that people get robbed on trains. I don't think he slept all night, because when I woke up he was still lying there with his eyes wide open, and his hands clamped round his body holding on to his money."

  "I'm sure you make these stories up," said Amanda.

  "I swear it's true. I had to sleep all night with the smell of shrimps! Though luckily I had some beer with me, and I must say that did help."

  They all laughed. The baby looked up at them and laughed as well. Ruggero moved over to the playpen, and gave the child the packet he had just bought. "Ruggero, he'll only eat the paper!" warned Camilla.

  "I'll watch him." He helped the baby undo the parcel, and a soft very lifelike Siamese cat stuffed toy emerged. The baby seemed extremely excited by the cloth label, which declared the toy suitable for his age.

  "I'm afraid, he's a connoisseur of labels. He thinks you've given him a lovely new label with a toy attached," said Camilla, as the child fingered the label with interest.

  "We're eating in half an hour's time," announced Hilary, but we don't have the traditional big meal tonight, we have it tomorrow, and we may have another guest as well."

  "It makes no difference to me. I can't eat much anyway."

  "Who's coming?" asked Ruggero.

  "Isabelle's daughter, Miranda. I don't think you've met her, anyway she's about your age Alex, so you can look after her."

  "What's she like."

  "Quiet: Not at all like her mother."

  "No, I meant to look at"

  "Really, Alex. She's pretty, very English."

  "Oh no, you mean frumpy."

  "No, not at all."

  "Thank God for small mercies."

  "Do you go to Midnight Mass?" asked Camilla unexpectedly.

  "No," they all said in unison.

  "I think I would like to. Would you mind keeping an ear out for Cosimo?"

  "Not at all."

  "Thank you."

  "Listen Camilla, I don't want to be thanked all the time. Let's just behave like a family. After all that's what we are, all related in one way or another."

  "And all strangers."

  "Yes, but time will remedy that. Now, why don't you all go off and lay the table, I want to talk to Ruggero."

  "Me, why?"

  "No particular reason, except I haven't seen you for a long time." The others had all left the room and were noisily laying the table. "You look tired."

  "So do you"

  "I expect we both are. What do you think of your son?"

  "He's an ungrateful wretch, look at him; he's totally absorbed in flicking that label about, and hasn't even noticed the cat."

  "It's amazing the way babies can concentrate for so long. He really loves the label. I'm sure he'll notice it's got a cat attached sooner or later."

  At that moment Cassius stalked in with long slow steps. He stood still for a moment, and twitched his truncated tail while he stared at the baby. The baby also became aware of the cat, and they engaged in a mutual sizing up, until Cassius decided to take a closer look and went to sniff at the child's fingers. Cosimo tried to reach the cat's fur and pull at it, so Cassius beat a majestic retreat, and jumped onto Hilary's lap.

  "I wonder what it will be like here six months from now," mused Ruggero.

  "Let's just take it one day at a time. I can't look forward that much. I think our lives will change so radically, that we will have to adapt, and change too, and at my age that's not easy," said Hilary, as though she was very old and settled.

  "Goodness me, you poor old lady. What about me, I'll go from carefree bachelor to old married man and father all in one day."

  "Mum, I think everything's going to burn unless we eat it now," called Alex. Ruggero bent and picked up the baby. "Come here you, no I'm not going to take your label away. Let's go and eat. Your father's starving."

  Midnight Mass in the Duomo. Krishna had got dragged into going with his sister Shiva who was going through a religious phase. It certainly was the sort of place to foster her beliefs. The Duomo, splendidly stark, and bare, with a massive primitive Statue of St Christopher towering above the altar, had all the majesty a place of worship should have, and none of the clutter and kitsch found in so many churches. The pews were extraordinarily uncomfortable, and one was forced to sit rigidly to attention. No falling asleep during the sermon! The priest, taking the birth of Christ as his starting point, had moved on from that to the sanctity of life, and after a glancing blow at abortionists, had ranged over wider horizons, extolling the right to live of all God's creatures, including those who were currently starving in various parts of the world, or being killed in the numerous wars that still troubled this planet.

  Camilla slipped in at the back of the church. She had never seen it before, and found it quite surprisingly beautiful. A communist atheist all her life, now that she was nearing the end of it, she found herself turning to God, and the religion of her childhood.

  The church was full, and the air soon became heavy with incense. Krishna always found it reminded him of furniture polish. He looked over the flock with a jaundiced eye. A lot of worthy ladies, a few of them worthy virgins no doubt, a small group of young people, whom he recognised as the catholic youth lot, a mass of old ladies, a few old gentlemen, and a majority of couples with their children. Mad Maria was also present, and another simpleton, dressed in splendid red robes, was assisting the priest. It wasn't his scene, and he heartily hoped that Shiva would hurry up and grow out of it, though judging by the glow in her eye, that wasn't likely to be very soon. He yawned, and sighed. Everyone else seemed to be praying, something he had no first hand knowledge of as he seemed to have missed out on a mystic phase, and there was a queue to take Holy Communion that stretched down the main aisle. He hoped it wouldn't last much longer. He was very tired because he had been up the night before till late, taking part in the Nativity thing with their old donkey, and was quite looking forward to going to bed. The police had been round asking silly questions about his whereabouts with the donkey last night but, as he explained, it had taken him over an hour to convince the wretched animal to go home.

  Pietro was dead, had fallen off the Duomo wall, so they said, but he felt a little shiver. Could it really be a coincidence? Although Antonio had been taken in, and looked like a prime suspect for Italo's death, the me
re fact that those four boys had died in one way or another couldn't be coincidence. The thing was there was no one left now, only himself, not that he really came into it at all, but he was the only one who knew about the tie between them. Suppose he was right, suppose it wasn't Antonio, suppose it was for another reason, then no one else could know that he knew, and then again, what did he know? Very little, that was the truth. If he had been sure of his facts, if he had known who…well things would have been different. He only thought he might know why, but then again, wasn't vendetta usually immediate? Yet, that was the tie. Well, at least no one knew what he knew, and he had nothing to fear, even so…Maybe someone else did know, maybe someone knew more than he did. Well, that was a train of thought that led nowhere, for how could he know? No it must have been Antonio, there was no better suspect, and the man was certainly abnormal. He hadn't thought he was a psychopath, but then his knowledge was very limited, and hadn't he heard that serial killers in America were often very respectable people, churchgoers, and so on. Yes, it had to be Antonio, and Pietro's death was an accident. Shiva nudged him, and he became aware that everyone was leaving. "Come on, come back, where were you?"

  "Miles away, a hundred miles away."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Miranda phoned at ten to say she was coming, and arrived at 12.30. She reported no change in Isabelle's condition, though she felt sure Isabelle could hear her.

  "I'm sure I'll get through to her soon. I spent hours talking to her about, oh, about almost everything. You know, the family, and the house and I swear that at one point I thought she was going to speak, she moved her lips, but then nothing happened."

  "Jeremy said she spoke once, so I'm sure she will again," Hilary reassured her.

  "Yes, but she said nothing that made any sense."

  "Maybe she was dreaming," offered Alex.

  "Probably. They do dream you know, people in coma, and sometimes her facial expression changes, so I'm sure she does."

  The table was laden with food. Wanting to please both the Italian and the English members of the party, there was far too much food. Antipasti, followed by ravioli in green marjoram sauce, roast turkey stuffed with chestnuts, mashed and roast potatoes, bread sauce, sprouts; chestnut stuffing, sliced and served separately and a rich gravy. This was followed by Christmas pudding, served with brandy butter; hot mince pies, and the traditional Panettone made by the local bakery, as well as Ricciarelli di Siena and various other boxed sweetmeats. An enormous bowl of fruit on the sideboard was overflowing with oranges and tangerines, a pineapple, kiwi, apples, bananas, and a huge bunch of white hothouse grapes.

  By three o'clock they were all so totally replete, that no one was capable of doing more than loll about on the sofa, except Amanda, who went to bed.

  Hilary served coffee, strong, and gratefully received. Miranda said, "I can't remember when I last ate so much. I feel terribly sleepy. Let's hope the coffee livens me up. I want to go up to Belle's house, and check it out."

  "I'll go up with you, if you like," said Alex.

  "Thank you. That would be nice."

  James decided to join Amanda, and Camilla took little Cosimo up for a rest with her. She had eaten very little, just a few mashed potatoes, sprouts with a dash of gravy, no dessert, and just a little fruit.

  Ruggero was sprawled on the sofa, bloated and happy. Hilary sat beside him, content to feel his arm around her shoulders. He seemed totally relaxed, and to have put aside his work for one day, though she knew he had taken several phone calls. Although she was unaware of it, he was thinking of his men combing the hillside below the Duomo looking for a needle in a haystack, or rather a rock, but with the same probability. He was also wishing that it was the 27th and that he could get on with the case. Alessio Pinnucci had admitted lying, and said that he had in actual fact returned to the Duomo, after his brief visit to the bakery, where he had met with Mad Maria and dallied with her in the small field at the other side of the Duomo, where there were enough trees to make it seem secluded. In fact they had been totally hidden in the dark, because there was no illumination there, and no one had seen them. Ruggero thought back to their conversation.

  "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "Would you want anyone to know you'd been 'aving it off with Maria?"

  "No, but then, I doubt that I could ever want to 'have it off' with Maria."

  "Well, I wouldn't normally, but, well I'd had a few drinks, and she was asking for it, and I don't get much. I mean who'd fancy me? I'm not like the others, they can get as much as they want, the girls are throwing it at them, but not me. No, I 'ave to take what I can get, so I did. I don't want no one knowing about this neither. "

  "I most certainly won't tell anyone, but I don't know if I can say as much for the lady in question, she seems rather determined to let everyone know."

  "Oh no one will believe her, she's always saying she 'ad it off with people; no one ever believes her."

  "I expect that she's had many others take up her offer. You're not the only one."

  "No, I s'pose not."

  "The thing is Alessio, that this does put you in the wrong place at the right time."

  "Oh no, you're not puttin' me up for that. I never killed Pietro, and that's a fact."

  "Did you see anyone else around, after your little rendezvous, or were only the two of you left by then?"

  "I didn't see no one."

  "Think man, did you hear anyone, anything, voices, a car?"

  He thought for a moment straining to remember. "Nothing, maybe a car. How do you expect me to remember; I was busy."

  "Alessio, I have been thinking about you, and do you know I believe that you could easily have killed all your friends. Your alibis aren't water tight. You were at the disco the first time, and what could have been easier than to slip out and kill Giovanni. When Walter was killed, you were at home, and frankly that's never a good alibi. You were coming home from work when Italo was killed. Think about it! Now Pietro is dead, and you were there at the Duomo, with a witness who places you there. Others saw you going back, and you have even admitted you were there. Why should I believe you are innocent? Did Pietro see you with Maria and make fun of you, is that why you killed him?"

  "I didn't; he was my friend."

  "So you say."

  "It's not just me saying it, ask anyone. They were all friends of mine."

  "Yes, but you're not like them, you said so yourself. They can get all the sex they want. You have to make do with Mad Maria. They were the beautiful boys; the girls were queuing up for them. You’re the joker, only there to amuse them. That's your role isn't it? What happened, did you get tired of being laughed at? Did you want to show them what a man you are?"

  "I never… They like me. They're my friends, why should I kill them?" he protested with tears in his eyes.

  "Why indeed?"

  The Hopes gathered round the table. Shiva announced, "I'm saying grace," in a belligerent tone and, when no one objected, proceeded to do so. Then they all sat down except their mother, Anita, who smiled at them, and said, "Children, Christmas is traditionally a time of giving, and receiving. This year we have been fortunate enough to be blessed with a wonderful present given to us by Mother Nature, or God, dear Shiva, as you will…" she broke off, as a childish voice piped, "You're pregnant." And others took it up, "Oh no, not again."

  "For goodness sake Mother, aren't you a little old for that sort of thing."

  "I don't want another brother,"

  "Whoopee, now I won't be Last any more. I'll be called Michele, like Grandad."

  "I told you she was getting fat."

  "Please God, let it be a girl."

  "I thought you weren't going to have any more now that you're old, Ma."

  "Did you mate with Daddy, mum? Did Daddy's spermato thingy's do it mum? Why isn't my rabbit pregnant? I put them in to mate ages ago."

  "They were both females you idiot."

  "No they weren't"

  "Yes they were
."

  "SHUT UP THE LOT OF YOU," thundered Constantine.

  There was a sudden silence.

  "Your mother and I are expecting another child, it will be called Phoenix, whatever the sex, and will be your brother or sister. Congratulations are in order."

  "Are you sure you don't mean condolences, Dad?" said Krishna slyly.

  "Quite sure. Our only concern has been for your brother, Last, whose name will be meaningless now. Fortunately he has already expressed the desire to change his name, and that was the only worry we had. We had you all because we planned and wanted you. This child was not planned, because we thought there was no longer much chance of another child, it’s all the more welcome for being a surprise."

  Anita sat down, flushed and smiling, as her children congratulated her. She knew she was one of the luckiest people alive.

  Miranda opened the door to her mother's house. She had stopped off at Marco's for the key. He wasn't there, but his wife was, and it was only with great difficulty that they avoided being given even more food, and drink. Alex said they probably wouldn't get off so lightly on their way back. The house was freezing cold, and had a musty smell. Miranda opened the windows, and let the sunshine into the house.

  "I'll go and open the windows upstairs shall I?" asked Alex.

  "Please. I think we should light a fire. Poor little house, it feels abandoned." She began to lay the fire. Alex came down, and said, “Brrr, it's certainly warmer out than in." He looked around the little house, with an appreciative eye. "I can see why your mother likes it here. It's a lovely house, and the view is incredible."

  "It is lovely, though Jeremy thinks she's crazy living here. It's pretty isolated."

  Not really, it's only five minutes to Altamura from here," said Alex.