"Yes."
"I just want to ask you a few questions, if you feel up to it."
"Yes."
"Do you remember that you escaped from the house one night? You went out in the cold, wearing only a night-dress and spoke to a woman."
"Yes, but not very well. The door wasn't locked." She paused and then said urgently, "Dottor Di Girolamo, I want my baby."
"I know you do. You must ask the Doctors about that. Please try to help me now. It's very important. I want you to try to remember that night. You spoke to a woman, asked her for help. What happened then, did your father find you?"
"Yes."
"Tell me what you can remember."
"I remember I was outside, for once the door must have been unlocked. I crept down the stairs, then I was out in the dark. It was very cold. Then I remember someone shone a light in my eyes, and there was a woman, but she disappeared, I don't know where she went, and my father took me back."
"Good. You've been very brave, and I think I now know more or less everything that happened to you, but I want to ask you about something else as well. It is very important that you tell me the truth. You don't have to answer me if you don't want to, but I need to know the answer, if not today, then as soon as possible. Is that clear?"
She nodded.
"Now it will take a lot of courage for you to tell me the truth, but I know you can do it. You're a brave girl. You've been through a lot, but for me to make things right then I must know the answer to this one question." She waited.
"Who is the father of your child?"
Tears sprang to her eyes, as she said." I don't know,"
"Come, Grazia, you do know, tell me."
"How could I know?" she asked.
He said nothing, waiting for her to continue.
She took a deep breath and said "There were four of them. They raped me." She wept quietly, and he moved towards her and held her tightly, pulling her towards him. "Shh, shh, don't cry little one. You're a brave girl, you've answered my question, and you have every right to cry, but I want you to tell me their names."
"No, no. What will happen to them if I tell you?" She was getting upset now, and began to move her legs in the bed as though she wanted to get up. He put his hand on the covers over her legs to still them.
"Nothing will happen to them, but I must know."
"It was my own fault. They gave me a joint, I smoked it and I drank too much and I didn't have the strength, or the will to stop them. I did try, but they held me down, and all of them did it to me." She looked up at him, desperate, "I don't want them to be arrested. I don't want anyone to know what they did to me. I'm so ashamed." She kept crying, and Di Girolamo worried that he would make her ill. He said, "You don't have to tell me. I know anyway. I'll tell you."
She went stock still, and waited, he said slowly, "Giovanni Lazzerini, Walter Verdone, Italo Franchini, Pietro Lagonda." He stood back from her and watched her face as he spoke each name. She looked at him, imploring him to stop, "No, please," she said quietly.
"Am I right? Am I?" he asked, moving forward to grip her shoulders.
"Yes, she whispered, and covered her face with her hands.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The Ape used by Matteo Rossi was towed away. His brother, Marco Rossi, looked on impassively as the Carabinieri went through the shed where the small family firm stored their tools. He watched as the ropes and builder's mallets were taken away, and waited until they had finished so that he could lock up. No one spoke, but a terrible sinking fear was creeping over him. Why did they want the ropes? Had Matteo tied Grazia with the ropes? No, of course not, so why did they want them? And the mallets? Italo Franchini had been killed by repeated blows with a large hammer, could they be thinking that Matteo was the killer? What if Italo was the father of Grazia's baby, and Matteo had decided to punish him for getting her pregnant. But the ropes? He refused to think any further.
Camilla phoned, "Hilary, it's Camilla."
"Hello, Camilla. When are coming?"
"How did you know I had decided to come?"
"Because it is the best thing for Cosimo, and that's what you want."
"Yes. It is. Look. I've got to close up the house here, and I must see my lawyers again, but I think I can be ready to leave in a couple of day's time. I'm getting a small truck to bring up all the stuff for the baby, his bed, playpen etc. but that's all I'm bringing. Well there is one other thing."
"Yes?"
"Jade, my cat. She's due to have her kittens in two weeks time, and she has never been separated from me before."
"Bring her. I thought I already told you to."
"I wasn't sure."
"Let me know the exact day, because the New Year is coming up, and I don't know if you want to be here for that or afterwards."
"Oh. I'd forgotten. In that case I'll make it for New Year's Eve, probably in the late afternoon."
"Good. We'll see the New Year in together."
Amanda and James were leaving that same morning, as they were going to a big New Year's Eve party in London. Alex was staying, but would be with friends, so it would just be the three of them, and the baby. Hilary mentally checked off her list of things to do, and found that she still had to send the cot back to her friend Francesca.
If Camilla arrived on the day that Amanda and James left, then Alex would have to be on hand that morning, because she wanted to move the double bed out of the guestroom as soon as it was empty. She was putting Camilla in there because it was bigger, and there was a desk. She would be able to have a television there if she wanted it. She could move the baby into the small spare room later, unless Camilla wanted him there alone from the start. Perhaps that would be best, anyway Camilla could decide. She bustled about, thinking out loud as she worked, dismantling the cot.
Matteo Rossi faced Di Girolamo once again. The tape recorder turned slowly, watched over by a young policeman.
"Who was the father of your daughter's child?" asked Di Girolamo.
"How should I know? She wasn't saying."
"Or she didn't know."
"She's a whore."
"What do you think of the man who had sexual intercourse with your daughter?"
"He should be put in prison. She was only a child, so what he did was illegal."
"Do you believe in 'an eye for an eye', as it says in the Bible?"
"Yes. So would any father."
"So if you had been able to get your hands on who did it, what would you have done to him?"
Matteo Rossi looked at Di Girolamo, and said carefully, "I would have called the police."
"Really! You can't expect me to believe that. You went to great pains not to let anyone know what happened to your daughter. I don't think you would have welcomed an enquiry. Would you Signor Rossi?" Matteo Rossi made no reply, so Di Girolamo continued, "I think you would have wanted to make him pay for it, to hurt him. I think you would have cut off his balls."
"What!" cried Rossi. "You can't pin that on me. I never did nothing to those boys."
"What boys?"
"I don't know what boys. I thought you meant those boys that were killed. You're the one what's talking about them, not me."
"Really, I merely said something about cutting off their balls."
"There you see. You can't blame me for that."
"For what precisely, for cutting off that boy's balls and stuffing them in his mouth?"
"Yes, I didn't do it."
"Who do you think did it?"
"One of his friends. That idiot Alessio. He never did like Italo that much."
"How do you know?"
"I saw them together. That Italo was always sneering at him."
"Italo who."
"Italo Franchini. I thought you said we were talking about those boys."
"Ah, those boys. I see."
Matteo Rossi looking like a cornered bull shook his head and looked confused. "I don't understand."
"I do though. I understand very
well. Let me ask you a question; how did you know that someone did that to Italo Franchini."
"You said so."
"No, I'm sorry. I didn't. You said so."
"Here, you're not tricking me."
"I'm afraid I already have. I didn’t ever say that Italo Franchini had been mutilated like that."
"Well I must have read about it. Yes, in the newspaper, that's it."
"This piece of evidence has never been made public. The only person, apart from the police that knows about the mutilation, is the killer. Matteo Rossi, you killed Italo Franchini."
"No. You're trying to trick me. It's not legal what you've done."
"Do you want a lawyer?"
"No, they're bloody parasites."
"Well, I should warn you that you will be charged with his murder."
"You'd have to prove it first."
"Yes, I will,"
"Well, you won't be able to."
But Di Girolamo was pleased. He was sure now that Matteo Rossi had killed Italo Franchini, and all the others. In a couple of days at the most he would have the necessary evidence that would tie the man to all of his victims. Fibres had been found on the trousers of Walter Verdone, which hopefully would match the fibres from the ropes taken from Matteo Rossi's tool shed. The Ape Truck was the most important piece of evidence because Di Girolamo was sure that the boys had been taken to their place of death by that means of transport. He needed so little to make a case, a hair from the head of one boys, in the Ape, would be enough to force a confession. He would have to wait now. It was out of his hands. The 'scientifica', or crime scene analysts would want to get this case closed, as much as he did. It was nearly the New Year, and he wanted it closed by then.
He thought that the reporters outside the building must have some form of ESP as they too were aware that something was going on. Earlier they had badgered him so much, that he had told them a man was helping the police with their enquiries, and that the case was nearly closed. He had promised that as soon as he had something to tell them, he would make a detailed statement.
Pia Rossi looking sadder than ever took her chair, and sat down as though she was very tired.
"Signora Rossi, I have good news for you." She looked up at him hopefully, as though he was going to tell her that this was all a bad dream. "I have seen your daughter Grazia, and she is well. She's going to be fine despite her ordeal."
"God be praised for that."
"But, I have to ask you a few more questions."
"I've told you everything."
"No, you haven't. To bring you up to date; you have told me that your husband threatened you and made you help him get rid of your grandchild. You told me that you received physical damage and I see from your notes that the doctor certifies that you have severe bruising, and two cracked ribs. He had also found evidence of old fractures on your hands." The woman convulsively moved her misshapen hands and put them under the table out of view, "and nose. In view of this, I am prepared to believe that you had no choice but to obey him. Your daughter also has severe bruising, and I think we can safely say that your husband is a violent and dangerous man."
"Yes."
"What I now need to know is just how violent and dangerous he is. What do you think he would do to the man who seduced his daughter?"
"God knows, I don't like to think."
"I will now ask you for the last time if you know who that man was."
"No. She wouldn't tell me."
"Did you know that she told him?"
"What! Who was it?"
"It wasn't one man, it was four."
"Four?"
"Yes, your daughter was raped, Signora Rossi."
"Raped, but why didn't she tell me? I'm her mother." She had tears in her eyes.
"I think we both know the answer to that."
"Who were they; who did this to her?"
"Giovanni Lazzerini, Walter Verdone, Italo Franchini and Pietro Lagonda.”
She looked at him blankly. The names obviously meant nothing to her. Then she said, "She was only a child, only fifteen years old. They must be made to pay for this. "
"Oh, they have already paid for it, a very high price indeed."
"What do you mean?"
"They are all dead."
"Dead. I don’t understand. What are you saying?”
“I think you know.”
“You mean murdered?"
"Yes." He waited for her to digest what he had just said, and then said, "Giovanni Lazzerini was killed on December the thirteenth. He was the first. The last, Pietro Lagonda, was killed on December the twenty-third."
"You think Matteo did it?"
"What do you think?"
"Oh God. I don't know what to think. How were they killed?"
"It was very brutal. The first two were sodomised…" he broke off when he saw she didn't understand the word. "They died as a result of internal haemorrhaging, caused by a metal broomstick, which had been inserted into the rectum and pushed up hard into the intestines, probably banged in with a mallet. There was severe laceration and bleeding."
She wept now.
"The third boy, was killed when his head was hit repeatedly with a mallet. After death he was mutilated. The fourth boy was hit over the head and thrown off the Duomo wall."
"God forgive him, if he did this, because I know I can't."
Maresciallo Biagioni, after two night's careful observation by his own men, had notified the drug squad of suspicious activities at the bakery, and they had set up surveillance. Giuseppe Bianchi was followed from that moment on, as the police were hoping he would lead them to his supplier.
When Ruggero got in, he was irritated to find that all Hilary's relatives were there, and there was a guest for dinner. It was Miranda. He braced himself mentally for an evening's boring conversation, mainly in English, and entered the room with a tight smile.
Hilary knew straight away that he was tired and irritable, as soon as they made eye contact. She asked Alex if he wanted to watch the football match that evening, and then suggested that the two men go and eat in front of the television, something that was not usually allowed. House rules. Ruggero looked mildly surprised and then he and Alex grabbed their plates and went off together.
He spent the first part of the evening watching football, and talking to Alex. He wondered if his own son would be such a good companion for him, in twenty years time. It seemed strange to think that a nine-month old baby could ever become a young man.
Miranda was all agog to talk about her mother, and the man who had tried to kill her, but Hilary said quite firmly, "I'm sorry Miranda, but I really cannot discuss any aspect of the case with Ruggero present. Also I know no more than you do yourself, so there isn't much point. Ruggero never discusses his cases with me."
"Of course, I'm sorry. Well anyway, as I was saying, Ma will be home tomorrow, so after supper, I'm off to light the fire, and warm the place up a bit. I'll do some shopping tomorrow afternoon on my way down to collect her."
"Do you need any help?"
"No, I think I'll be fine thank you."
But when she got up to leave, Alex, who had obviously been waiting for this moment, abandoned the end of the football match and said, "I'll drive up behind you in Ma's car and see that you're settled in alright, for the night. Unless you need the car, Ma?" His bland air of innocence defied her to make any comment, so she said nothing, except," "No, I won't be needing it tonight. I think that's a good idea."
Miranda thanked her for the meal and they set off. Alex didn't come back until dawn, when Hilary was woken by the sound of the car door closing quietly. She heard him creep up the stairs stealthily, trying hard not to be heard, and she smiled, turned over and went back to sleep for another couple of hours.
Miranda got up rather late the next day, and felt absurdly happy. She made up the bed for her mother, and cleaned and tidied the room. When it looked as nice as possible, she went downstairs and checked out the kitchen. The fridge need
ed to be emptied of a few mouldy yoghurts, and she found a rotting cabbage in the vegetable rack. The cupboards were nearly bare so her shopping list was quite long, and she left the house at eleven, having decided to eat some pizza at the supermarket for lunch.
Isabelle, waiting in the hospital found that the day went very slowly, so she went back to sleep to help time pass more quickly, and that was how Miranda found her when she arrived at two o'clock.
"Ma! Wake up; it's time to go home."
Isabelle's eyelids fluttered and opened over the pale blue eyes.
"Oh darling Miranda, I was having the most wonderful dream. I was in my little house, and the most marvellous man was with me." Miranda felt herself blush, as she asked, "Goodness me, what do you mean? Was it an erotic dream?"
"Yes, very." Isabelle smiled contentedly, thinking of Marco Rossi's prowess in her dream. "It was absolutely marvellous."
Hilary watched Ruggero reading a statement on the news and listened as the journalist went on to say that the Borgo Beast murders had still not been solved, but that a man was helping the police with their enquiries and an arrest was imminent. Mention was made of baby Lucia, and the fact that her mother, a young girl, was doing well in the local hospital.
Hilary thought that never before had Borgo San Cristoforo been so famous, or, she corrected herself, infamous, as in this last year. Ruggero's arrival in the town, in July, had been for the first murder investigation in Borgo for years; a murder which had been speedily followed by another, and now by this dreadful series. The town, which thrived on tourism, was going to find this a heavy blow to recover from. It was vital that things should return to normal as soon as possible, so that by the summer, it would all be only a vague memory in people's minds.
Pia Rossi was taken home. It had been decided not to press charges. She still hadn't seen her daughter, but was hopeful that now that she was free, she would be allowed to. The house was empty and silent. She went into the cold kitchen and took off her coat. She was only forty-two years old, but she felt infinitely aged by the last few weeks. Wearily she began to clear out the cold ash from the wood burning stove, and put in the fine twigs, and tiny tightly rolled balls of paper that would help the larger logs to burn. She struck a match and lit the fire, which took immediately. She listened to the wood crackling and hissing, and then went to the sink, unscrewed the coffee pot, filled it and put it on the stove to boil. As she worked, she began to move faster, shaking off the tiredness. By the time the coffee came up, bubbling into the top section of the coffee pot, she had washed up the few plates in the sink, dried them and put them away. She poured herself out a small cup of the dense brew, added two teaspoons of sugar, stirred vigorously and downed it fast. She squared her shoulders, and set off towards the stairs. There was a lot of work to be done, and the sooner she got started the better.
The Tuscan Mystery Trilogy Page 70