"So he's a country boy?"
"No. He was born and raised in Florence, so he's very much a city boy. His parents moved back to the country when they retired. Right, who's clearing the table? I'm off to the shops, anyone coming with me?"
"No, I'm going to Pisa today to meet up with some friends. I'll probably stay the night there," Alex replied.
"James and I will clear up, and get lunch ready for when you come back. It's cold, and I don't feel like going shopping."
"Nor do I, but we've run out of milk, and sugar and a few other basics, so I'll have to go."
"Do you realise we only have two days left, and then it's back to the grind again," said James soberly.
"Don't talk about it, don't even think about it. Let's pretend we're staying forever, until the moment when we have to pack our suitcases."
"I'm leaving a week from now, aren't I lucky?" gloated Alex.
"Good, I'm going to make use of you to move some furniture for me. I want to make Camilla as comfortable as possible when she comes."
"What do you mean?" asked Amanda.
"I mean she is coming to live here with Cosimo to help him settle in so that he won't be too traumatised when…when she dies."
"How traumatised will you be?"
"I don't want to think about that. I must think of what is best for Cosimo."
"Hello Miranda, I feel marvellous today," cried Isabelle, as her daughter entered the ward. "I'm sure I'm ready to go home. I mean I feel absolutely normal."
‘Whatever that means,’ thought Miranda. "Ma, I had a phone call last night from Hilary," she said.
"Darling Hilary, how is she?"
"She's fine. Listen, she told me that she has had some interesting news for you. You were quite right about that girl, you know the one we thought was a dream. There really was a girl there the night you got injured," said Miranda
"Thank God for that. I thought I must have knocked out some brain cells or something." Isabelle sighed with relief. "Have they found her?"
"Yes, they've found her. Apparently she’s the mother of that baby that was found by the refuse bins, did you know about that?"
"Yes, I remember. Poor girl, she must have been demented, throwing away her baby like that."
"She didn't leave her baby there; her father took it away from her as soon as it was born, and then he locked her up in the house."
"Good heavens. Well, why was she out that night?" asked Isabelle
"She must have escaped from the house and went out to look for her baby."
"That's right, of course, I told you she said something about a bambino. Where did they find her?" asked Isabelle
"At her home, her father must have found her and taken her back. She was locked in her room. She's quite ill."
"Her father! So it must have been him that bashed me over the head."
"Of course, you're right. I hadn't thought about that. I was just so pleased that you hadn't dreamt all this stuff. It means that your memory is fine."
"Well, my dear, I shall have to remind the police that this man tried to kill me."
"I suppose he did."
"Of course he did! He fractured my skull and threw me down the gully, he must be quite mad. Who is he? Do I know him?"
Miranda looked at her mother and answered, "I rather think you do." She paused and then continued, "It's Marco Rossi's brother, Matteo."
"What! He's been working for me in my house all this time, and you're saying he tried to kill me. But he knew me. I can't believe it," exclaimed Isabelle.
"Ma, I'm sure it wasn't personal. He probably didn't even know or care who you were, he just wanted to get his daughter back under lock and key."
"Well, my dear I'm quite shocked. I have been harbouring a killer in my house, and talking to him everyday, not that he ever did talk much, now that I come to think of it. He's a very taciturn fellow. Yes, thinking about it, there was always something a bit peculiar about him. He has this rather nice little wife, a bit dowdy, faded blonde, gone to fat, type, you know the sort, and he never let her out of the house. I've only seen her a couple of times myself, and we're practically next door neighbours. I remember thinking that it was positively medieval. At least the daughter was going to school, and I suppose that's where she met her Romeo. Do they know who he was?"
"Hilary didn't say anything about that. She says the girl is in hospital, she had been kept locked up for over two weeks in her room."
"Poor lamb. Heavens, Miranda, she's only a child, I don't think she can be more than sixteen."
"Quite old enough to know what she was about."
"Yes, I suppose so, but think my dear, with a father like that, it must have been a torment. I suppose she just thought that she'd present him with a fait accompli and he'd accept it."
"But he didn't."
"What can he have thought he was doing, locking her up like that? I mean sooner or later it would have all come out."
"Not necessarily. Not if he convinced her to keep quiet about it."
"Mmm."
"Ma, I've spoken to the doctor about this, I mean the fact that you weren't stuck in dreamland, and he says you can go home. You'll have to take it very easy, but if you want to go home, well, it's time."
"When, today, now?"
"Don't get too excited. Tomorrow. I'll go up this afternoon, get some food in, order some more gas cylinders, and warm the place up a bit. I'll stay there overnight, and come back for you tomorrow."
"Oh, how marvellous. I can't wait to get out of here. I mean hospitals are so grim, and one becomes an inmate, a prisoner, not a person at all. Just think of the freedom to see the mountains again."
"Ma, you'll still have to rest most of the time, at first," said Miranda trying to bring her mother back to earth.
"Oh, I suppose so, but I'll be able to look out of the window and have all my lovely things around me." Isabelle was using her little girl voice again, which Miranda found very irritating.
"Of course," she said in a sensible tone of voice, "and I'll stay with you as long as you need me."
"Will you darling? You're such an angel. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Pia Rossi was brought up from the holding cell where she had spent the night
"Signora, just a few more questions," said di Girolamo.
"Will they let me see Grazia?"
"I will be asking the questions," he said sternly.
"Oh." She looked down at her hands.
"Do you know who is the father of your grandchild?" Ruggero barked at her.
"No!" she gasped.
"Grazia didn't tell you?"
"No."
"Did she tell your husband?"
"I don't know."
"And you are quite sure that he didn't tell you."
"Yes, I mean, no he didn't tell me. He's hardly spoken to me ever since… since it happened."
"Do you own a television?"
"Yes, of course."
"Have you watched the news since your grandchild was born?"
"No, he wouldn't let me. He told me the baby was alive and that was all I needed to know. He told me, because I said he'd be accused of murder, and he said there was no chance of that, because the baby was alive and well."
"Did you tell your daughter that her child was alive?"
"Yes," she whispered. "He told me not to, but I had to."
"And your daughter didn't tell you who the father was."
"No. Well that is, one day when I was washing her, I asked her, and she said, she didn't know."
"What did you think then?"
"I thought that my husband was right and that she was a whore."
"So you agreed that he should shut your daughter up, lock her in her bedroom."
"He said it would only be for a while, and then when it was all over, he would let her out, and we could carry on as normal. He said she'd get over it."
"Did you think so too?"
"At that point, I mean he'd already done what he sh
ouldn't have done. I was just hoping that we could all pretend it had never happened."
"Would you have helped your daughter to escape if you had the opportunity?"
"I didn't have the chance."
"Would you have done so if you'd had the chance?"
"I don't know. Where could she have gone? Everyone would have known about the baby, and Matteo would have gone to jail, and think of the disgrace for the family."
"So you had come round to his way of thinking in the end."
"Not really, I just wanted things to be alright for Grazia, for her to have a better life."
"You mean you thought that she wouldn't be able to hold her head up with an illegitimate child, and if everyone knew that her father was in jail for throwing her child away, there would be no chance at all. So I think that at this point you agreed with your husband on what course of action to take."
"I couldn't see a way out of it. I mean, the worst had happened hadn't it, and I only wanted what was best for Grazia."
"Did you know that Grazia escaped from the house one night?"
"Did she?" Di Girolamo thought she didn't sound surprised enough.
"It was on the night of the twentieth, and I think you left the door unlocked."
"I didn't know she escaped. What happened?"
"He found her. She was asking for help, so your husband tried to kill the person who was helping her."
"Oh Madonna! Who was it?"
"The English Signora, the one he has been working for these last six months."
"Is she alright?"
"Yes, she is now. She had a fractured skull. She's still in hospital."
"Matteo isn't an evil man. He was just so ashamed for Grazia that he lost his head. He was always a very loving father. It's just that this… thing, drove him crazy. I'm sure he didn't mean to harm the Signora, really."
"I'm sure he did. She was pushed down to the bottom of the gully and spent the whole night there. Your brother in law found her there in the morning, and saved her life. She was nearly frozen to death, and she was in coma for days. It was a serious attack."
"I can't believe it of him. I don't think I know him anymore."
"No, I don't think you do."
Matteo Rossi was brought back to Borgo San Cristoforo for further interrogation. He was now facing charges of attempted homicide. Although Isabelle had been unable to identify her assailant, Di Girolamo was confident that his daughter would.
CHAPTER THIRTYTWO
Di Girolamo decided to see Krishna Hope before going on to the hospital to speak to Grazia Rossi. He watched the young man as he came into the room, a tall slim youth, his long black curls tied back from his angular face, the small beard that gave him a demonic look, and the sardonic mouth.
He was holding the green coat and a dark hat in his hands.
"Sit down Krishna, what a pleasure to see you again."
"Buongiorno, Dottore," said Krishna seriously. He carefully laid the folded coat over his knees.
"You wanted to see me."
"Yes, I want to tell you something, which I think is important. It's something I have been thinking about. I wasn’t sure but now I'm feel certain it's a possibility." Di Girolamo let the boy work out what he was going to say, without interrupting him.
"No, I don't mean that. What I'm trying to say is that I had connected the murders with something I once overheard, and then when you arrested Antonio Valdese I thought I must be wrong, but now, I think I might have been right. I'm sorry, I'm not being very clear, am I?" He looked up at Di Girolamo anxiously.
"Take your time," said Di Girolamo gently, "and a word of advice; start at the beginning, and then go on…"
"Until I reach the end. I know. It's just that…well I suppose the beginning is the murders. It wasn't until there were three, and those three boys died, that I began to think. At first, I suppose I thought, like everyone else, that the victim of the first murder was taken by chance, then when the second one happened, well, it had to be a serial killer, same method etc. But the third one was different. I asked myself if the murderer was seeking out the boys in the group, for some reason. Then, if there was a reason, the murders had to be a punishment, a vendetta, and I wondered what the boys could have done together that merited their death like that. Well, of course no one merits a death like that, but I mean they do in a killer's mind. Then I remembered a conversation I had overheard but hadn't thought anything much of until then. It just popped back into my mind. It was in the changing rooms at the football field. There were the four boys, the ones who were killed, and they thought they were alone, but I was in the loo and could hear what they were talking about. It was a long time ago, early this year, and there had just been a big party. I can't remember why, someone's birthday I think. Anyway, it was at the local disco, and everyone went, it didn't finish till five in the morning. A lot of kids got drunk, or stoned, and they, Giovanni, Pietro, Italo and Walter were talking about it, you know, talking about friends who were so drunk they had to be poured into a car, and so on. They were laughing and joking, but then Giovanni said, "Don't forget, not a word about the girl." And someone, Walter I think it was, answered, "You have to be joking man, her Dad would kill us if he found out."
Then someone else, I think it was Italo, said, "We shouldn't have done that." And Giovanni said, "Balls to that, she was asking for it, just like the rest of them."
Krishna stared into the distance as he repeated the conversation that he had overheard, trying to remember it accurately. He turned the hat round and round between his hands.
"Pietro said, ‘You're a bloody sex maniac.’ Then Giovanni said, ‘So are you, who isn't? Anyway she loved it. I did her a favour, it's not everyone gets their first go with me.’ or something like that. I'm not sure about the exact words. I just remember that Italo was horrified that the girl was a virgin, but Giovanni laughed and said, ‘Yeah, but she sure isn't now.’ Italo said, ‘Jesus man, don't you even care?’ He sounded really upset, but Giovanni said, ‘No, and nor did you. You got stuck in like the rest of us. We're all in this together boys. Relax, I told you, she loved it. Sooner or later she'll be back for more.’ Italo was kind of angry with himself, or disgusted. He said ‘She was stoned out of her mind, she didn't even know it was happening.’ ‘Good, then maybe she'll forget all about it.’ said Giovanni, and one of the others said, ‘We'd better pray she does.’ That's it. I must have put the conversation to the back of my mind. It wasn't my business, but it suddenly came back to me. Three of the boys had been killed and there was only one left, Pietro. I went to see him, to try to warn him, but he seemed quite unconcerned. He thought I didn't know, and I couldn't tell him that I did. I tried to hint that I knew something, but he wasn't taking the bait. Then you arrested Antonio Valdese, and I thought I must have been mistaken."
"What makes you think you're right now?”
"Grazia Rossi."
"She was the girl?"
"I don't know who the girl was, but she fits the bill. The timing is right."
"It could be. You think her father forced her to tell the names of her aggressors, and then he killed them."
"Yes, I do."
"Alright, not a word to anyone about this, Krishna."
"Of course."
"Go home, and keep it all under your hat. I mean it, not a word, not even to your parents."
Krishna stood up and put his hat on, "It's safe here," He smiled as he patted his hat and then left the room.
Di Girolamo called the Maresciallo, told him the gist of what Krishna had said, and sent him off to get Matteo's Ape truck. "Look for his hammer, and the ropes. I'll be at the hospital."
He left the building by the back door, and opened a small gate that led to the side road where he had parked the car. Maresciallo Biagioni left by the front door, fending off reporters. At the hospital another group of reporters were waiting for him, shouting, "What's the girl's name?" “Has she been reunited with her baby?" "Who's the father?" "What's wrong with her?"
He ignored them all and parked inside the hospital gates, which the gate keeper slammed shut with vicious joy, forcing the reporters to fall back in disarray. He smiled at di Girolamo and saluted. The head of the obstetrics department, a plump middle-aged man greeted him jovially, and escorted him to a quiet affluent office. They addressed each other formally as Dottore, and Professore.
"How is she, Professore?" asked Di Girolamo.
"Doing quite well now. She’s young, and the young heal fast. Her fever has dropped, and she's clear headed now. The psychiatrist has seen her, and says she is lucid, vigilant and co-operative, despite mental fatigue and reactive depression. Really, the way those fellows talk. Anyway, he means she's fit to be questioned, but not for too long, and do it gently."
"Of course."
"I'll take you along. I've put her in a nice quiet room as far as possible from the nursery, so she can't hear the babies crying. She's very upset about her baby, and although we have reassured her that the baby is fit and well, she doesn't quite believe us, nor will she until she sees it. Unfortunately that’s in the hands of the court. We just give her bland reassurance. I'm sure you understand, Dottore."
"Of course. I'll do my best."
"Here we are." He opened the door, and said, "Grazia, my dear, I've brought you a visitor. He's a very nice man, and I promise he won't stay long." He moved to the side of the bed while he was speaking, and took the girls hand, patting and squeezing it reassuringly.
"Are you feeling a little better, my dear?" he asked in an avuncular tone.
"Yes, thank you, Professore." He patted her hand one last time and then left closing the door behind him.
Di Girolamo moved closer to the bedside. The girl looked a little better than when he had first seen her, but she was tiny and looked so incredibly young and vulnerable, that he felt wrenched by the thought of what had probably happened to her.
He sat down beside her and said quietly. "We have already met, though I don't expect you remember. I'm the one that found you. My name is Dottor Ruggero di Girolamo, and I am the magistrate assigned to this case."
The Tuscan Mystery Trilogy Page 69