“So, what can I offer you tonight?” the waiter asked, bringing their attention back into the room.
“Would you suggest something special for our guests?” said Giò without looking at the menu.
“We have some delicious antipasti,” Giovanni had evidently been hoping to do just that, “mixed seafood, marinated anchovies, and a few warm specialities directly from our chef.”
“I think we might share some of those,” said Giò, looking at the expressions of approval on the faces around her.
“If you like seafood, we’ve got a good selection for our linguine allo scoglio.”
“I think that and the antipasti might be enough. We’ll decide later if we’re having a second course.”
“Good idea!” Erminia laughed, her loose skin dancing, her lack of chin making her look like a seal. “Let’s not stuff ourselves, we need to conserve a little energy for our first writing sprint after dinner.”
Giovanni hovered, unconvinced.
“Yes?” Giò encouraged him.
“We have some paranza… it’d be a pity if your guests didn’t try it,” he murmured sheepishly.
“Oh my goodness,” Giò laughed, “I’m afraid we can’t say no to such a treat.”
“What’s paranza?” Alberto asked.
“It’s a mixture of small deep-fried fish, caught yesterday, I guess, as no one could have gone fishing today,” explained Giò. “The fish are no longer as small as they used to be, because of the need to ensure they can reproduce and thrive, but it’s still an excellent approximation.”
Giovanni agreed, nodding. “It includes anchovies, shrimp, red mullet, squid, and it’s simply divine! ”
“Sounds heavenly to me.” Guido jumped up. “And can we get some wine to accompany our food?”
“May I suggest a Grottino di Roccanova?” Alberto said. “It’s from Basilicata and I’ve always been curious to try it.”
Giovanni approved of his choice and left.
“Rather than yoga,” Erminia said, “we should have a Jane Fonda workout tomorrow morning. I’ve a feeling we’re likely to have put on a few kilos by the end of the week.”
The wine tasted and approved, the jolly company soon forgot about the abusive lady on the other side of the restaurant as chit-chat and jokes filled the air. The arrival of the antipasto was celebrated with some loud hoorays and the trays were circulated amongst the guests so they could help themselves.
Valentina was holding a white and blue ceramic dish containing a colourful octopus salad, serving Alberto a few spoonfuls, when she raised her eyes towards the entrance and let the dish, and its contents, crash to the floor and shatter. All the others, startled by the noise and the shocked expression on Valentina’s face, followed the direction of her gaze.
At the main entrance door was a tall, striking figure in a long black dress. It seemed as though a character from a 1960s movie, a Sofia Loren or Gina Lollobrigida, had just stepped out of the silver screen. The woman had a generous bust, her dress highlighting her plunging cleavage and thin waist. She had perfectly coiffed long, wavy black hair, but her face wasn’t exactly beautiful. Its prominent aquiline nose and strong bone structure made it less feminine than her body. Still, a strange magnetism emanated from her. Giò could feel it from the very moment of her appearance, and it continued as she slowly moved towards the table. The clicking of her high heels filled the room, even drowning out the noise of the waves outside.
“How could you invite her?” Simone managed to whisper to Annika, and all glances moved accusingly towards her.
“I didn’t!”
“Oh, but do I see my dear friends sitting here?” The woman had reached their table, her smile enigmatic. “What a surprise! How are you?”
“We were much better a minute ago,” Alberto replied, his voice unusually hard.
“Margherita, what are you doing here?” Annika asked, charging her words.
“I needed some sea air, the winter has been so long. A pity the weather should be this terrible. But here you all are, Mummy’s boy too.” She looked at Erminia and Francesco before directing her cold black eyes onto Valentina. “And the poor little kitten is still so clumsy – look what a mess you’ve made on the floor.”
Valentina remained silent, glaring at the woman. Only Alberto noticed that she was clenching her fists so hard that her knuckles had turned white as bone.
“Waiter!” Margherita waved at Giovanni, who was standing by the kitchen entrance. “Please come over here, you need to clean the floor next to this table. Some guests really should learn how to behave. Actually, I think you should all learn some good manners – why haven’t you asked me to sit with you?”
“We’re here to work,” Annika replied firmly, “and you know how important it is for us to focus all the energy within the group on our writing.”
“Oh come on, Annika, this is your first evening here. You seem to be doing more chattering and joking than anything, and after all, I’m no complete stranger. I was a part of this group.” As she spoke, she signalled to Giovanni, who was cleaning the floor. “Would you be so kind as to lay the table for me here?” She pointed to the one empty place at the head of the table. “I want to be close to my friends, but they’re all eating fish, and even the smell of it makes me sick.” She unlatched her bag and looked inside. “Oh yes, my life saver is here. Please let the cook know that I’m allergic to any kind of fish. Even touching it will make me ill.”
“I’m sure she knows, madam, all staff have been informed of any allergies the guests may suffer,” Giovanni said. Chest swollen with pride, he cast an admiring look over the woman’s body. “And I’ll come back to lay the table for you after I’ve cleaned up here.”
“You’re a very efficient man,” Margherita told him as she sat on the chair at the long table.
“We haven’t told you that you can sit with us,” Annika said.
“Ouch! Your blunt Scandinavian manner.” The woman laughed. “Let’s have a little reunion, even if it’s just for tonight. I’ve got things to do myself and won’t be able to spend much time with you next week. Erminia, dear, I may be wrong, but do you look older than the last time we met?”
Francesco opened his mouth as if to defend his mother, but no words came out.
“You’re absolutely right,” Erminia said, her mouth stretching in a grim smile. “I haven’t had time to visit the plastic surgeon, as you clearly have. But at least I can smile without fearing that half my face will collapse under the strain.”
“Francesco, honey,” Margherita accepted the blow with lazy indifference, “shut your mouth so you don’t look so much like a boiled cod. As you can see, your mummy can defend herself better than you can. But then again, this mummy can do so many things better than her baby, including writing books for him while pretending her offspring has some genius.”
“You shouldn’t offend people just because they’re not as awful as you are,” Vittoria intervened. “That’s a rare talent, luckily.”
“Oh, the Brontë sisters. Did I mention how much I’ve missed you?”
“I think I’ll go to my room, I’m no longer hungry,” Valentina said, standing up and leaving before anyone could stop her.
“Oh, did she leave because of me? What a shame! I do tend to have that effect on grumpy teenagers… even those teens who are at the end of their thirties.”
“Did you think she would stay to be offended by your venomous tongue?” Vittoria said.
“Oh, but it was hard for me to be thrown out of the group and not even receive an invitation to join you for your second meeting.”
“There was no point in inviting you,” Annika said. “I had already informed you that you didn’t fit in with the group and our work.”
“But I had paid my fee.”
“Which was refunded as soon as you were informed of my decision.”
“I didn’t get a full refund.”
“Of course not, you took part in the first retreat.”
> “I’d never have wasted my money nor my time if I’d known I was going to be thrown out on the slightest pretext.”
“Then if you want to be accepted in writers’ groups in the future – not mine, for sure – I’d advise you to learn how to behave civilly around your companions.”
“OK, I admit I said nasty things last time. I was hurt, a lost soul, but I will behave from now on and won’t meddle in your retreat.”
Giovanni came over to take Margherita’s order, and again she was polite with him. But as soon as he left, she continued to insult the group of writers.
“My dear photographer, I wonder what you’re doing here. No offence, but surely your talent lies in the realm of pictures rather than writing?”
“I’m taking a chance. It’s better to be resourceful in life.” Guido replied coolly, but Giò could feel a tension in him, as if he wasn’t as detached as he pretended to be. “And what has brought you here?”
“Business. I tend to work too much – all the time. I can’t disclose any more, but when I saw my next engagement would bring me to Maratea… well, I couldn’t resist the temptation to move the meeting forward a few days to have the chance to meet up with all of you. And do I see a new face? Are you the one replacing me?”
“I think so,” Giò replied.
“Giò Brando, aspiring guide scribbler?”
“And you are…?” Giò tried not to show any surprise at the woman knowing who she was.
“Margherita Durante, writer, screenwriter and PR in the tough publishing industry.”
“Are you visiting Maratea for the first time?”
“Oh no, I’m not new to Maratea. I actually lived here for a while. I used to own Villa degli Incanti – I’m sure you’re familiar with the place.”
“Of course I know it. But it’s been a B&B for years now.”
“Unfortunately, I had to sell, and yes, that was many years ago…”
Margherita paused. The younger doctor at the next table had choked on his food and his loud coughing was drowning out any chance of conversation.
“Decades, I dare say.” Margherita continued as if the interruption had never happened. “It was a pity the people who took it on had nothing better in mind than converting it into a place for tourists to stay. It used to be a wonderful villa.”
“It still is,” Giò replied. “There’s a beautiful park running all the way around it, and of course it overlooks the sea. It also has a small private beach enclosed by the rocks that cannot be reached from anywhere else.”
“Yes, I know. We used to take long swims before breakfast, then sit on my beloved patio amongst the yellow summer brooms. We spent many a happy hour there…”
“We?”
“My late husband and I. But those memories, as well as the brooms’ perfume, belong to a different era. I was young and happy then. Possibly the most joyful days of my life.”
“So what happened?”
“Nothing much, really. All things in life must pass, and pass they did.”
“So was your husband from Maratea?”
“No, he was from Rome. He owned Villa degli Incanti as a second home. At that time, Maratea was attracting all kinds of stars, from football players to famous actors and directors; from Sanremo singers to movie producers. Nothing like today’s cheap hordes of tourists, eating home-made sandwiches and not even having the money to hire deckchairs and parasols, but lying on their towels.”
“That’s only for a couple of months a year.” Giò had to defend her town. “Maratea is too far from everywhere to attract mass tourism.”
Margherita ignored her words. “That’s why I only come here out of season, when you can still enjoy it.”
“And that’s why,” Annika explained to the rest of the company to switch the attention from Margherita, “I decided to start my three-month stay in Maratea now. I will leave in early July.”
“Will you be staying at the Pellicano Hotel the whole time?” Vittoria asked.
“No, I’m renting a small flat at a much lower price.”
As the dinner went on, the tension didn’t exactly disappear, but it relaxed a bit as the guests rolled their forks in a delicious linguine allo scoglio.
Alberto whispered to Vittoria, “Should I call Valentina back?”
“Oh no!” The woman shook her head. “When she’s in a bad mood, it’s better to leave her alone. But I will tell her how worried you were, I’m sure she will appreciate it.”
After dinner, Erminia announced she was going to retire to bed. Francesco said he’d stay up a little longer, but his mother reminded him how arduous their journey had been to get to Maratea and how much he needed rest too.
“Don’t worry, Mother, I won’t stay that much longer.”
“You know we have to start writing tomorrow morning,” she insisted softly.
“Come on, Erminia.” Margherita was whispering as if to Guido, who was sitting by her side, but not so softly that the others couldn’t hear her. “The boy is almost 40, let him go to bed when he wants. In any case, we all know who’s going to do the writing.”
Erminia’s face turned purple. “If a certain woman is found stabbed to death by the morning, we won’t have to wonder why it happened.” With that, she turned her back on the table and left.
“Mother, wait, I’ve changed my mind.” Francesco sent a look of hatred towards Margherita. “I’m coming to bed after all.”
5
Evil In The Air
When Vittoria retired a few minutes later, Giò and Annika decided to leave the restaurant too. Annika wanted to vent all her frustration to her friend, so as soon as they’d walked through the inner door leading to the hotel corridor and hall, she let fly.
“Oh Giò, I can’t explain how much I hate that woman. She came here on purpose to stir things up.”
Giò tried to console her. “From tomorrow, we will be OK. She said she’s got other things to do.”
“She was lying. I bet she’s got nothing on her mind but creating trouble within my group.” Annika stopped walking, as if standing still would give more emphasis to her words.
“Come on, nobody would go to all the trouble of coming down to Maratea in this awful weather just to be a party-pooper.”
“You don’t know her, she is that nasty. I could happily kill her.”
“I guess today has been a tougher day than we expected, but we won’t share our table with her tomor…” Giò’s voice fell silent all of a sudden.
“What’s the matter?” Annika asked.
Giò stood frozen in place, her face tilted slightly forward, her nose pointing to something ahead of them. Annika followed the direction of Giò’s stare and saw Mrs Galli sitting on one of the armchairs along the part of the corridor that was used as a reading room. The lamp on the windowsill was switched off, but in the dim light they could still make out that the old woman was in an unnatural position. Her head had fallen forward onto her chest and was sagging slightly to one side; her right arm lay, palm upwards, on top of her body.
“Oh my goodness!” cried Giò, jumping towards the woman, not exactly looking forward to what she knew she had to do. Fortunately, Annika was by her side, ready to help. Only partially comforted by her friend’s presence, Giò softly touched the woman’s shoulder. Mrs Galli didn’t stir.
Frantically, Giò started shaking her.
“Wake up! Wake up!” she cried in a frenzy.
A second later, all three of them were screaming: Giò, Annika and… Mrs Galli.
“Wha… wha… what’s happening?” uttered Mrs Galli finally, pressing her hands against her heart as if the fright had hurt her physically.
“You… you… you’re alive?” Giò asked, startled.
“I’m not sure for how much longer after such a fright,” the woman growled, her hands not leaving her chest as she tried to deepen her breathing.
“We thought you were… err… not feeling well,” Annika explained.
“And so you decided to
help me by scaring me to death?”
“We didn’t mean to…”
“I knew from the beginning you were trouble.”
The night concierge, alarmed by the screams, came over to ask what was going on.
“My friend and I thought Mrs Galli wasn’t feeling well,” Giò explained.
“They woke me up so abruptly, I could have died on the spot. I’ve already told the hotel owner she shouldn’t allow troublemakers in if she wants dignified guests to keep coming back.”
“Madam, I’m sure these two women didn’t alarm you on purpose.”
“Really? They shook me from my sleep with a great deal of purpose. They want to get rid of me because I have already complained about their loutish conduct.”
The man tried again to soothe her. “Can I bring you some water and sugar to help you recover?”
“Yes, and a double whisky will help,” the woman replied. “Then you’d better accompany me to my room. Too many dangers lingering here.”
“Then I will accompany you first and bring your drink from the bar soon afterwards,” the man said, helping the woman to rise from the chair and winking at the other two.
“You won’t be charging the drink to my room, will you?” Mrs Galli cried. “It’s purely medicinal because of the kind of guests you allow on the premises.”
“No, madam, the drink is on us to apologise for what has happened.”
“Then you’d better make it two double whiskies. I will need a second one when I inevitably wake up in terror in the middle of the night.”
“I’ll be happy to do that, madam.”
As the lift doors closed, the two friends caught the last of Mrs Galli’s words.
“You’re such a charming boy. Well mannered, and good-looking too.”
Giò and Annika burst into uproarious laughter.
“How about we sit here for a while? I need to recover from both the fright and the dinner.”
“How did I ever think she was dead?” Giò wondered, sinking into a comfy sofa.
“Margherita Durante has cast a dark shadow on the place,” Annika said, her sulky voice contrasting with her expressive face. “There’s something gloomy in the air, and it’s got nothing to do with the weather, nor with Maratea. I’m unhappy that the men are still sitting with her. She has an arcane power over them.”
Peril at the Pellicano Hotel Page 4