"Just before you reach the village. The quickest way is through the garden and along the hill path."
"Thanks." I lit a cigarette. "I'll go down there after lunch. You looked pleased when you heard signorina Valeria is coming home."
"Pleased?" Maria beamed at me. "I am very pleased. She should have come before. You can have too much education. Signor Bruno has been pining for her. You will see a big change in him when she arrives."
"I hope I shall."
It was while I was waiting for lunch that I made up my mind what I was going to do.
Although Laura had convinced me she hadn't meant what she had said, I knew the situation was dangerous. It was a situation as old as the hills: two lovers and a rich husband who is in the way.
The money involved was an enormous sum, and consequently an enormous temptation. I didn't trust Laura, and I didn't trust myself. Already she had planted a maggot in my mind. If I remained long enough in her company there was no telling how she might influence me. We might drift into murder: other people had done it, end we could do it.
There was only one solution to this situation. I had to get out.
It wasn't going to be easy to break with Laura. When she was with me she was overpoweringly attractive, but I knew I had to break with her. The thought of returning to my sordid room in Milan didn't appeal to me, but anything was better than this sick feeling of uneasiness that was now gnawing at my mind.
In six days' time Valeria would be returning. When she arrived, I would leave, I told myself. Six more days, and then I would pack up and return to Milan.
At the back of my mind I knew I should go at once, but the temptation to have a few more days on the Lago and a few more nights with Laura was too much for me. And besides, if I went now it was probable Laura wouldn't give me the seven thousand lire that was to be my week's wages, and I wanted that money.
I wondered if Torrchi had any news for me about a passport.
He had promised to try to arrange something for me, although he had warned me the price would be high.
I decided to go into Milan after tea and have a talk to him. It wouldn't do to let him imagine I wasn't still anxious to get out of the country. He might also know something about Bellini, and I was very curious to know what kind of man Bellini was.
After lunch I went down to the village to see about a room.
The village was about a mile from the villa by road, but if I went through the garden gate as Maria had directed me I could walk along a path cut in the face of the hill, overlooking the Lago, and shorten the walk by three-quarters of a mile.
The path was narrow: on one side was the steep hill face, on the other a sheer drop into the Lago. It was safe enough to use in daylight, but most certainly not at night.
Gianni Bicci was a fat little man with a big grey moustache and a completely baldhead. He took me upstairs and showed me the room, which wasn't much, but at least it was clean. We agreed on a price, and I told him I'd move in some time tomorrow.
"You come from the villa?" he asked, eyeing me inquisitively.
"Yes. I've taken Bellini's job."
He scowled.
"That Bellini! I'm glad he has gone."
"What was the matter with him?"
"Matter? Everything! A brute of a man; always quarrelling, always after the girls, always getting drunk."
"Did he have a room in the village?"
"At first, but he made such a nuisance of himself, they got rid of him. He stayed at the boathouse, so I hear. A good thing he has gone."
"Are you sure about the boathouse?" I asked, alert now.
"He stayed there at least a week before he had to go."
"Why did he go?"
Bicci passed an oily hand over his baldhead and scowled.
"Trouble with a woman."
I could see he wasn't going to enlarge on the subject so I changed the subject by asking him if he could let me have a boat.
"I might do a little fishing in my spare time."
"You can use the green boat with the outboard motor. You will find it on the beach."
"Thanks. I'll let you know if I want it."
I walked back to the villa, turning over in my mind what I had learned. So Bellini had used the boathouse. That made him Laura's lover. My doubts about her came surging back. Was she really planning to murder Bruno, or was she what I had at first suspected, a woman who had to have a man—any man; even a drunk like Bellini?
My next move now was to talk to Torrchi and see if he could give me some more information about Bellini. Every scrap of information I got would help me decide what was going on behind Laura's cold and inscrutable mask.
I walked aimlessly through the gardens and paused to look up at the villa. All the shutters were closed. In the heat of the afternoon everyone, including Nurse Fleming, went to their rooms for a siesta. Bruno was left on the verandah, where he was supposed to rest for two hours.
I could see him now, alone and motionless, lying in the shade, and I had an idea he was watching me.
I had him on my conscience, and looking up, seeing him there, I thought he must be feeling damned lonely. It was all very well for Nurse Fleming to say he must rest, but he had all night in which to rest, and it could be no fun to be left during the day while everyone took their ease and were rid of him.
I decided on an impulse to go up there and see if he wanted company; he might even like me to read to him. I went down to the boathouse and took Vasari's Lives of the Painters from the bookshelf, and went back to the villa, I felt embarrassed when my eyes met his, and I half wished I hadn't come. But I could see he was pleased to see me, and after hesitating, I went up to him.
"I've been reading Vasari," I said, holding up the book. "Some of it is amusing. Perhaps you'd like me to read a little of it to you?"
His eyes lit up with surprise and interest.
"There's a nice piece about Bandinelli and his feud with Cellini," I went on. "Would that interest you?"
His eyes thanked me. It was extraordinary how easy it was to understand him if you watched his eyes. I pulled up a chair and sat down.
It took me a little under an hour to read the chapter on Bandinelli, and when I had finished I looked up to see how he had liked it.
"It's wonderful stuff considering it was written over four hundred years ago, isn't it?" I said, laying down the book. "I've been through the four volumes a dozen times." I went on to tell him about my book and of the progress I had made.
I could see he was taking a lively interest in what I was telling him. It was a new experience for me to find an interested audience when I talked about my book, and I got so carried away with my subject I forgot the time, and Nurse Fleming caught me in the middle of an enthusiastic description of the Graffito pavement in Siena's Cathedral.
"And what do you imagine you're doing here?" she demanded tartly as I got hurriedly to my feet.
"I've been reading to the signore," I said. "Just passing the time."
She started to say something, but she happened to catch Bruno's eyes, and they told her to shut up so plainly that she gave an annoyed shrug and turned away.
He looked hopefully at me as if asking me to come again. I nodded, and walked down the steps into the garden.
Laura appeared from the little summerhouse, carrying a book, and I waited for her as she came up the path.
"Would you mind if I went into Milan this evening?" I asked, aware that Nurse Fleming was watching us from the verandah. "I want to collect some of my books."
She nodded. "Yes of course. Would you like the car?"
"If it would be convenient."
"Yes, take it I'm not going out."
I bowed to her and went down to the boathouse to change.
Ten minutes later I was speeding along the road to Sesto Calendo, and within an hour I was in Milan.
I left the car at the parking lot by the Duomo, and went in search of Torrchi. I found him sunning himself by the main entrance, his eyes
on the lookout for a likely handbag.
"Signor David,'" he exclaimed, his face lighting up. "This is a great pleasure. Where have you been? For days now I have looked for you."
"I've a job on the Lago Maggiore."
He raised his bushy eyebrows.
"You have given up the Duomo?"
"For the time being. I hope to be back by next week. How are you prospering, Torrchi? You don't look very busy. Will you have a drink with me?"
"Certainly. I have had a successful day, and in half an hour Simona is meeting me here. But let us have a drink. She is never punctual."
As we walked down Corso Vittorio Emanuele I enquired after Simona.
"She is very well," Torrchi said. "At the moment she is working again as a model. An American lady is employing her. Simona is always well behaved when she has something to do." He shot me an inquisitive glance. "You still haven't changed your mind about that diamond clip?"
"That's past history, Torrchi," I said as I pushed open the door to Piero's trattoria. "I haven't got it now. You can forget it."
Piero brought us a flask of Chianti. He seemed very pleased to see me.
"I was hoping, signore, you would bring the beautiful signora here again," he said.
"Perhaps one day she will come again," I said.
When he had gone, Torrchi asked, "You still see the signora then?"
"Never mind about her," I said, and poured out two glasses of wine. I pushed one across the table to him. "Saluda!"
We drank.
"Signor David," Torrchi said after he had wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, "I have some news for you."
"What news?"
"About the passport."
"Well, go on," I said. "What about it?"
"Jacopo came to see me last night. He has been ill, but he is working again. He says he can arrange things for you."
"Is he any good, Torrchi?"
"Good?" Torrchi slapped the table with the flat of his hand. "There is no one to touch him. He is the best in the country."
I felt a little prickle of excitement run up my spine.
"You mean he really can do something?"
Torrchi made a wry grimace.
"At a price."
"Yes, of course: at a price." Even though I expected that snag I felt deflated. "Did he say how much?"
"Six hundred and fifty thousand."
"Is he crazy?" My voice shot up. "Six hundred and fifty thousand! It's robbery!"
Torrchi looked quickly over his shoulder, but there was no one else in the room except Piero, who was working at the cash desk.
"I know, I told him he couldn't do business at those prices, but he won't listen. He says the risk is bad. Getting the passport blanks costs a lot of money. He says there are many people who have to be paid. He doesn't get more than ten thousand out of it for himself."
"He's a liar," I said.
Torrchi shrugged.
"The work is very good, signor David. I've seen some of it. You wouldn't have any trouble."
"I haven't the money."
Torrchi looked at me slyly.
"Maybe the beautiful signora would lend it to you?"
"Leave her out of this, Torrchi!"
"Excuse me, it was just a suggestion."
I drained my glass and refilled it, pushing the flask over to Torrchi.
"I always thought that idea of mine was a pipe dream," I said. "Looks as if I'll have to remain in this country until I rot."
"You want so very much to get back to America?"
"I can earn a living in America, Torrchi. I'm an architect."
"Yes, that I can understand. Well, maybe you'll have a little luck. I'll talk to Jacopo again. He may come down a little."
"Forget it. How's Giuseppe?"
"Just the same. He gets drunk every night, but he works very hard during the day."
"He has the constitution of an ox. I know what I wanted to ask you, Torrchi. Have you ever run across a man named Bellini? I don't know his other name. He is big and ugly and smokes cigars."
Torrchi looked startled.
"Mario Bellini? Yes, I know him. He used to have a room in Via del Ponte. Why do you ask?"
"What kind of man is he?"
"Not a good man: a man of violence."
"Is he in Milan?"
"Not now. He went away about four months ago. I heard he had gone to Rome."
"Tell me about him, Torrchi. It's important."
"He owned two street women," Torrchi said, grimacing. "He was also a bandit. His methods were very crude. He relied on violence: a dark alley, a long wait, then a blow on the head. You know what I mean?"
"Milan is full of thugs like that."
"Yes, but he was the worst of the lot. Three times he has been in prison. He spoilt the trade. If he had stayed longer in Milan the police would have doubled their patrols."
"Why do you think he has gone to Rome?"
"Someone told me so. Maybe he's gone somewhere else. It doesn't matter so long as he stays away from Milan."
"Describe him to me, Torrchi."
"He's a very big man, over six foot: very powerful. He has big black eyebrows, a dark bluish jaw and small angry eyes. All the time he is angry. There is a little circle of baldness on top of his head, and he smokes many cigars."
"Anything else you know about him?"
Torrchi rubbed his nose with the back of his hand.
"You remember Andre Gallio, the pickpocket?"
I nodded.
"Bellini killed his brother, Luigi. That is why he left Milan."
"Sure of that?"
Torrchi nodded.
"The police never found out, but I know. Andre knows too."
"Why don't you go to the police then?"
Torrchi smiled.
"There is no need to go to the police. Andre is a member of the Mafia. Very soon Bellini will be dead: they are looking for him now."
"How did it happen?"
"Luigi was working in the Duomo. He hooked a very fine pearl necklace. Bellini saw him take it and demanded half the value. Gallio told him to go to hell. Bellini laid for him, but Gallio was too quick. He started to run. Bellini shot him and took the necklace. Andre came up just as Bellini was leaving. He saw him."
I lit a cigarette. As I flicked out the match I wondered if Laura had any idea of all this. Again the little spark of suspicion began to glow in my mind.
"I have to get back to the Duomo now, signor David," Torrchi said. "Simona will be waiting. Will you come?"
I shook my head.
"I must be moving too. Give her my love. It has been nice seeing you again, Torrchi."
"This job you have got: it is a good one?"
"It's all right."
"Good. You don't want me to do anything more about the passport?"
"It is too much. But leave it open, Torrchi. I may think of a way."
When I went up to the villa to lift Bruno into bed that evening I was surprised to find a tall, thin man with him.
Laura was sitting on the verandah rail, and Nurse Fleming was bustling about in the background, looking efficient.
I guessed the tall, thin man was Dr. Perelli. He had a chin beard and a pair of rimless glasses on his hooked nose. He gave me a long, searching stare as I came up the verandah steps.
"This is Chisholm, doctor," Laura said. "Shall he wait?"
"No, no, I'm just going," Perelli said in a deep, harsh voice.
"I'll be in again on Tuesday. Did Valeria say what time she'd be arriving?"
"No, but I expect she'll come in on the midday train. Come to lunch, doctor. I know you're almost as anxious to see her as Bruno is."
"I'll try to. I may be too busy. I'll telephone you."
"You can put signor Fancino to bed now," Laura said, turning to me.
Aware that Perelli was watching me, I manoeuvred the chair into the bedroom.
Nurse Fleming had already turned down the bedclothes.
As I pulled the chai
r close to the bed, I suddenly remembered Laura's dream.
Dr. Perelli and Nurse Fleming were in the room, and so was I.
As you lifted him from the chair, something went wrong; you stumbled. Dr. Perelli called out. Bruno fell head down . . .
I felt a sudden, cold sickness in the pit of my stomach. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Laura come into the room, followed by Dr. Perelli.
Laura said, "He lifts Bruno very well now. He's quite the best man we've had."
I looked across at her.
Was it the trick of light or had she gone a little pale? Her eyes seemed to glitter as she gave me a swift glance, and then immediately looked away.
I took off the coverlet.
Bruno was watching me. There was a puzzled, enquiring expression in his eyes as if he sensed my sudden tension.
I picked him up.
Nurse Fleming moved the chair out of my way. She pushed it a little harder than necessary. It skidded against the night table and rebounded against me.
The sharp corner of the foot of the chair rammed into the back of my knee. I was of balance, as I was about to lower Bruno on the bed.
I stumbled.
Laura gave a sharp, little cry.
Perelli said sharply, "Look out!"
I went down on one knee, holding on to Bruno firmly, taking the shock on my knee.
The sound my kneecap made as it hit the stone floor was like the snapping of dry wood.
I straightened up and carefully laid Bruno on the bed. The whole thing had taken perhaps three seconds. What could have been a fatal accident was now nothing more than a little clumsiness. He hadn't even been jolted.
"I'm very sorry, signore," I said; my mouth was dry, and my muscles were fluttering in my legs.
"It was my fault," Nurse Fleming said. "I've never done such a thing before."
Bruno's eyes smiled at me.
"You really must be more careful, nurse," Perelli said angrily. "If this man hadn't been so agile . . ."
"I told you he was very good," Laura said quietly. She was as white as a fresh fall of snow.
"Are you all right, Bruno?" Perelli asked, bending over the still, thin figure.
I walked stiff legged onto the verandah. When I was out of their sight I wiped the sweat from my face.
As I was moving away, Perelli came out.
"That could have been a very dangerous accident," he said. "You did well to avoid it."
1952 - The Wary Transgressor Page 8