"Yes, signore," he said. "It went over to the Pescatori, You can't see it from here. It is moored on the far side."
I thanked him and went back to my boat.
Sweat was running of me, but I didn't care. It would be easy enough to find her on the Pescatori, a small island, inhabited almost entirely by the fishing community, who made a living by netting trout from the Lago.
I sent the boat bouncing across the water, past the Isola Bella, and keeping to the lee side of the Pescatori, I ran the boat ashore and got out.
The most likely place where she would be, I decided, was the small Albergo at the far end of the island. I walked towards it, keeping a sharp lookout for her. The beach was deserted, and all the shutters to the shabby but picturesque houses were closed.
I spotted the motorboat moored under a willow tree within a hundred paces of the Albergo.
There was a pleasant little garden at the back of the Albergo that led down to the water and was shaded by grape vines. I walked down the path and sat at a table in the shade, where I had a good view of the windows of the Albergo.
A tired looking waiter came over to me. I ordered a Campari and mineral water.
I waited perhaps an hour and a half, possibly a little more.
From where I sat I could see the motorboat, so I knew she was still there, and I was sure she was in one of the rooms overlooking the garden.
My guess was right. Suddenly the shutters of one of the windows of an upper-storey room were pushed open, and a tall, powerfully built man stood framed in the window.
He wore a green silk dressing gown that showed his bare, barrel of a chest, covered with coarse black hair. He was built like a prizefighter, and his long, rugged face and broken, flattened nose, his crushed ears and ugly hard mouth reminded me of the statue of the Roman prizefighter I had once seen in Rome.
He stood looking across the Lago with a bored, satiated expression of a well-fed animal. Between this thick, strong fingers, he held an unlighted cigar.
I knew I was looking at Mario Bellini, and I saw now why Torrchi had called him a man of violence: he was more than that. He could be as dangerous and as savage as a gorilla.
He remained at the window for perhaps half a minute, then he turned and disappeared from sight. As he turned from the window I caught a glimpse of Laura.
I got up and went quickly along the path back to my boat. I had seen what I had come to see. I knew now where to find Bellini if I wanted him. There was no point in letting her know I had followed her.
But I needn't have hurried.
She didn't return to the villa until dusk.
I was leaning over the terrace wall, watching the lights of Stresa before going down to the village for the night, when I saw the motorboat coming out of the darkness.
It was coming fast, and was zigzagging on the still surface of the Lago, its headlamps casting two bright beams through the rapidly falling darkness.
I watched it, surprised; my surprise changing to alarm when I saw she hadn't reduced speed, and was coming at the harbour entrance practically flat out.
At the last second she must have realized she would smash the boat to pieces against the harbour wall at the speed she was going, for she swung over the wheel and went shooting away into the darkness again.
She came round in a wide circle. The roar of the engine died down as she throttled back, and she made a much slower approach.
Even then she misjudged the entrance, and I heard the side of the boat grind against the harbour wall and the nose bang violently against the steps.
I leaned over the terrace wall, trying to see what was going on.
I heard her swearing in the darkness, then an electric torch switch on, and I watched her come slowly up the steps.
She passed close to me without seeing me. She walked unsteadily, humming under her breath, and as she walked up the path to the villa, she lurched, nearly missed her footing, and went down on her hands and knees.
I watched her.
She was as drunk as any street woman on a Saturday night.
I didn't see her all the next day.
I spent the morning getting the boat into shape. She had scraped the paintwork badly and twisted the brass rail. It took me until lunchtime to repair the damage.
After lunch I read extracts of my book to Bruno until tea time.
I could see he was interested in spite of a depression I had noticed when I had lifted him on to his chair in the morning.
After I had completed my evening routine I took Bicci's boat and went out on to the Lago to fish.
Why had Bellini suddenly turned up? I kept asking myself.
His return had created in Laura an excitement she had never shown in her relations with me. But I didn't care. If she wanted an animal like Bellini she could have him. I was thankful I had moved from the boathouse, and out of her way.
Today was Friday. Tomorrow was my day off. Then two more days, and I could pack my things and get out. Bellini's appearance was the final straw. The break with Laura was easy now.
I was fishing about three hundred yards from the harbour of the villa. I heard the motorboat engine start up, and a moment later the motorboat edged out of the harbour and went racing across the Lago towards Stresa.
Laura sat at the wheel. She was smoking a cigarette, and she was bareheaded. She didn't look in my direction, and the boat was quickly swallowed up in the fading light.
Another rendezvous with Bellini, I thought, and losing my interest in fishing, I started the outboard motor, and turned the nose of the boat towards Arolo.
It was long past midnight before I heard the roar of the motorboat's engine. I was lying in the narrow, hard little bed in my small room, half asleep, but the sound brought me awake, and I got out of bed and went to the window.
She was coming back in the same crazy fashion as last night, and came past my window with a rush that sent waves lapping against the boats moored just below me.
Bellini was with her, and I heard his voice above the sound of the engines, shouting for her to cut down the speed.
By leaning out Of my window I could see the motorboat edge into the harbour.
I waited and watched.
Five minutes later the lights in the boathouse sprang up.
As soon as I had lifted Bruno the next morning, I went back to the garage and asked Bicci if he could lend me a car.
I had nothing to do all the morning, and felt in need of company. Even Giuseppe's company was preferable to my own thoughts. The fact that Laura had taken Bellini back to the boathouse the moment I had moved out sickened me, and although I tried to kid myself I didn't care, I kept brooding about her.
Bicci pointed to an old, battered Fiat.
"You can have that. Pay for the petrol. I won't charge you for the car."
I thanked him and backed the car over to the pump.
While he was filling the tank, Laura, in the Alfa-Romeo, came sweeping down the road. She pulled up sharply when she saw me and waved.
I went over to her.
"David, I forgot to give you your money."
She was pale, but her eyes glittered, and there was a sparkle in them I hadn't seen before.
"It's not time yet, is it?" I said.
"You may as well have it before it slips my mind entirely." She opened her purse and handed me seven one-thousand lira notes. "Where are you going?"
"To Milan."
"Come with me. I'm going in now."
"I don't know when I'll return," I said, not looking at her.
"I think it'd be better if I had my own transport."
She gave me a searching look.
"Please yourself. I'm sorry I haven't seen you these last two days. Some friends of mine are staying at the Regina. It's a bore, but there it is. Are you comfortable in your new room?"
"It's all right," I said curtly.
"Well, I must get on. I was hoping to see you tonight, but I have to go to Stresa again. Let's make it tomorrow nig
ht at the boathouse, shall we?"
"As it happens Giuseppe is coming to spend that night with me," I lied. "He hasn't seen the Lago before, and asked if I could put him up."
"Can't you put him off?"
"I'll try."
"I want to see you tomorrow night, David." She smiled at me.
"Well, goodbye for now."
I stood looking after the big car as it flashed down the road, then I walked over to the Fiat.
Whatever happened I decided as I headed for Sesto Calendo I wasn't going to the boathouse on Sunday, even if I had to drag Giuseppe all the way from Milan to Arolo. From now on, I was through with her.
As I drove along the busy Corso Magenta, heading towards the Duomo, I saw a girl waving violently to me from the sidewalk.
It was Simona.
Not without difficulty, I pulled over to the kerb, waving to the infuriated and horn-shrieking drivers to pass me.
Simona came running up; her dark, animated little face peered at me through the window.
"I thought it was you," she said. "Can you give me a lift?"
"Certainly." I leaned over and opened the door. "Do you want to go to the flat or somewhere else?"
"I want to go for a ride," she said, getting in and sitting at my side. "I have half an hour to waste before I start work. Have you half an hour to waste?"
"I have nothing to do. I was on my way to see Giuseppe."
"That old ruin? You don't want to bother with him. Drive to the park, and let us sit in the sun for a few moments."
"That's a good idea," I said, Turning left and heading towards the Piazza Castello. "How is Torrchi?"
"He is well," Simona said, making a little face. "He is always well. I haven't seen you for some days. Where have you been hiding yourself?"
"I'm working on the Lago Maggiore, but I shall be back in Milan on Tuesday."
"Then you go away?"
"No, I remain in Milan."
"But I thought you were going away now you have your papers."
I gave her a puzzled stare.
"What papers, Simona?"
"Torrchi told me you wanted a passport. It is all right, I don't talk to people. What Torrchi says to me is a secret."
"Torrchi said he could get the papers, but the price was too much. I haven't the money."
"No one has any money these days," Simona said gloomily. "Even Torrchi won't buy me a hat."
I slowed down as we entered the park, and pulled up opposite the entrance to the Castello Sforesco.
"If you have a cigarette, I will smoke," Simona said, crossing her slim legs and showing me a beautifully shaped knee. "Did Torrchi tell you I am working again?"
I gave her a cigarette.
"Yes, he said you were modelling."
Simona nodded.
"She's an old fool, and can't paint at all, but she pays well. I have opened a savings account for my old age."
"That's a good idea."
She looked at me out of the corner of her eye.
"How much did Torrchi pay you for the diamond clip?"
"I haven't sold it to him. I gave it back to the signora."
She nodded.
"If you tell me I promise I won't mention it to him. I am very anxious to know. I will let you kiss me if you will tell me."
"That's very generous of you," I said, smiling at her, "but I haven't sold it to him."
She gave me a sudden dark scowl.
"I kiss very well. How much did he give you?"
"Now look, I haven't sold it to him. The signora has it, so will you stop talking about it?"
"Why do you lie?" she demanded hotly. "He has it. He doesn't know I have seen it. He has hidden it from me. It is necessary for me to know how much he gave you."
"What are you talking about?" I demanded, swinging round in my seat to stare at her. "Torrchi has the clip?"
"Yes! I saw him looking at it when he thought I was asleep."
"Not the signora's clip. It must be some other Simona."
She wiggled impatiently.
"It's the same. When he went to work I searched the flat and found it. It is the same. Did you sell it to him?"
I shook my head.
"No: I keep telling you."
Simona's eyes narrowed. She slid her hand under her blouse to scratch herself under the arm.
"Does the signora own an Alfa-Romeo?"
"Yes; why?"
"Then she sold it to him. The car drove away as I was coming back from work. A woman was driving. It is very rare to see a woman driving a car in Milan. I remembered her."
"When was this?"
Simona screwed up her face as she thought.
"Last Tuesday, in the early afternoon."
The following evening I had seen Torrchi, and a few hours later Laura had told me about the terms of Bruno's will. I realized in a flash that she must have bribed Torrchi with the diamond clip to tell her the price of the passport so she could tempt me with the exact sum in the hope I'd change my attitude about Bruno.
"What colour was the car?" I said, controlling my rising anger with difficulty.
"Dark blue."
"Think carefully, Simona, did you notice if it had a blue sunshield across the windscreen?"
She nodded.
"Yes, it had, and there was a silver mascot on the radiator cap: a lion's head."
That was Laura's car.
"Can you find out from the signora how much Torrchi gave her?" Simona asked. "It is very important. Torrchi and I have an arrangement: whatever business he does I get ten per cent. He tries to swindle me when he thinks I don't know what he is doing."
"I'll try to find out," I said. "If I hear, I'll telephone you."
"You promise?"
"I will do my best."
She glanced at her watch.
"Now, please drive me to Piazza Piemonte or I shall be late."
I drove in silence, my mind busy, and when I reached the Piazza I pulled up and opened the car door. "You won't say anything to Torrchi about the clip?" Simona said.
"It is unlikely I shall see him. I have an appointment with Giuseppe."
"You waste your time. You should find yourself a nice girl I could find you one for a small consideration."
I shook my head, "Giuseppe may be an old ruin, but at least he is reliable. So long, Simona."
I drove over to the Duomo and parked the car, then I walked to Piero's and had lunch.
I didn't make much of a meal, and when Piero came over to gossip I was very short with him.
At a few minutes after two o'clock, when I was sure Torrchi would be at home, I drove to his apartment, left the car outside and climbed to the fourth floor.
I rapped on the door.
Torrchi opened it almost immediately. I saw him give a little start when he saw me, but his round fat face lighted up as he threw open the door.
"Signor David! The last man I expected to see. Come in. I have still some good Scotch whisky left."
I walked into the apartment, closed the door and leaned against it. My hand, working behind my back, slid the bolt.
"I happened to be passing, Torrchi, and I thought I'd enquire about the passport. Have you seen Jacopo?"
Torrchi nodded his head vigorously.
"I saw him this morning." He shrugged. "But he won't alter his price. He says it is not worth the risk. Six hundred and fifty thousand; not a lira less."
I walked over to the table and sat down.
"You remember the diamond clip belonging to the signora, Torrchi?" I said quietly.
I saw him stiffen.
"Yes, signor David. What of it?"
"I hear you have it."
He started so violently that he spilled the whisky he was pouring out.
"No, I haven't got it!" he said, meeting my eyes with difficulty.
"She gave it to you, didn't she?"
"What is this?" Torrchi said, putting down the whisky. "What is this nonsense?"
"What did she want in retur
n, Torrchi?"
"I don't understand. The signora hasn't given me anything. Why should she? Who has been telling you lies?"
"What did you trade for the clip, Torrchi?"
Colour came into his swarthy face.
"If this is a joke I don't like it. Let us change the subject."
"I'm not joking. She gave you the clip. I want to know why."
"She didn't give me the clip! You are making a mistake, signor David, Come now, have a drink. It is too hot to quarrel."
I leaned across the table and hit him with my open hand across his face. He staggered back, snarling at me.
"I'm sorry, Torrchi," I said. "I've got to know. I don't want to beat it out of you, but I will if I have to."
"Get out!" Torrchi said, his voice shrill. "You are no longer a friend of mine."
I stood up.
"Don't be a fool, Torrchi. Why did she give you the clip?"
"She didn't give it to me!"
I moved round the table, and he backed slowly away.
"Why did she give you the clip?"
He set his back against the wall, his lips of his teeth, his eyes angry and frightened.
"Stay away from me! I know nothing about the clip."
As I moved in on him, his hand went behind him. I made to hit him with my left fist, and brought over my right at the last moment in a long looping swing that caught him on the side of his head, knocking him to his knees.
He bounced against the wall, rolled over and began to climb to his feet. He had a short stabbing knife in his right hand, and he thrust at me with the speed of a snake striking.
The blade missed me by inches. He stabbed at me again, but I was going away from him.
I knew he was an expert with the knife, but I wasn't scared of him. I had been in a number of knife fights since I had been in Italy, and I knew how to handle him.
Moving fast, I circled away from him. He came after me, his head down, his body crouched, the knife pointing at me.
"Better drop it, Torrchi, before you get hurt," I said, putting the table between us.
"Get out or I will kill you!" He said through clenched teeth.
My hands closed round the back of a chair. I picked it up.
He darted to one side and came in with a rush. I backed away, thrusting the four legs of the chair at his face. He caught hold of one of the legs and tried to cut at me from over the top of it, but his arm was too short.
1952 - The Wary Transgressor Page 10