Sisters

by Michelle Frances

  SEVENTEEN

  Matteo was surprised to see no lights on in his house as he pulled up outside. Helping his friend fix his boat had taken a little longer than he’d thought and he had expected to find his wife and her family at home. They were meant to all be having dinner together – he’d brought back some fish that his friend had caught. It was then he noticed that Abby’s car wasn’t there. Perturbed, he checked his watch – it was getting late. They would have left the beach hours ago.

  He let himself in and listened out but the house was silent. Throwing his keys in the dish on the hall table, he went to put the fish in the fridge. The motor hummed and whirred and he stood there for a moment, wondering where his wife could be. He moved through the house towards the living room, which was also dark. As he entered, he switched on the light.

  Matteo yelled out in fright. Sitting on a chair was Susanna. But not the woman he’d seen that morning. Her face was burned red by the sun; her hair was dishevelled. Then he saw she had a tissue in her hands, blotted with blood.

  She looked up at him, an expression of consternation on her face.

  ‘Are you OK?’ he asked, growing more disconcerted as he now noticed her hair was matted with dried blood. He walked over to her but she held up a hand to make him stop. Confused, he did so, and that was when he saw the terrace through the patio doors: it was strewn with broken glass and a patch was stained dark.

  Matteo started. ‘What’s happened? Where’s Abby?’

  ‘Gone,’ said Susanna.

  ‘Gone where?’

  ‘You need to call the police.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Oh, I know, you are the police,’ said Susanna. ‘But not even you can handle this.’

  ‘You’re hurt,’ said Matteo, walking towards her again.

  ‘Stay away from me!’ Susanna said sharply. ‘And call them. It’s in your own and your wife’s best interests.’

  Matteo slowly pulled his phone from his pocket and did as she bid. A cold, ugly fear gripped him as he dialled.

  EIGHTEEN

  ‘I do not need to go to hospital,’ Susanna said imperiously to the paramedic, who had tended to the cut on the back of her head. ‘Nothing and no one will persuade me to, so you might as well leave me alone. I’m perfectly fine now, thanks to your medical assistance.’ She gave a brief but thankful smile for their application of steri-strips to the gash she’d sustained when she fell onto the broken glass. They’d said she needed stiches but she had no intention of leaving the house. ‘I just need time to rest and heal.’

  And talk to these police people, added Susanna in her head, as she looked up at the two Carabinieri hovering at the side of the room, a man and a woman. She winced as she did so: her head was a ball of pain from the fall – and she had a lump the size of an egg to go along with her cut.

  Eventually the paramedics were persuaded to leave and the Carabinieri sat either side of her. They’d been speaking in Italian to Matteo and, although she couldn’t understand the words, she’d thought by their body language that he had claimed ignorance of the day’s events. Susanna stretched a hand out towards the side table and the policeman who’d introduced himself as Captain Santini understood and handed over the glass of water. She sipped at it delicately through a straw. When she had finished, he took it from her and placed it back on the table.

  ‘If you would like to tell us what happened,’ said Lieutenant Colonel Baroni, in English. As the senior officer, she was leading the questioning. Susanna wondered if she had children. Whether they got on. If she did, they’d be young; Baroni was only in her thirties. Susanna felt a wave of sadness. Her own daughters had never been friends, not really. There had been too much jealousy, too much rivalry, for years.

  The captain, tasked with writing down everything they were saying, was poised with a pen and notebook. Susanna took a deep breath.

  ‘We had gone for a lovely lunch,’ she started, ‘after our trip to the beach. Except that Abby and Ellie seemed tense around each other. They have a history – don’t all sisters?’ she said. ‘Except, their relationship is more complicated than most.’ She glanced up at Matteo, saw he was watching her intently.

  ‘When we got back, Ellie was upset. She went out onto the terrace . . .’ Susanna waved a hand towards the patio doors. ‘I went to get some water for us all and when I came back from the kitchen, Abby was here too.’ Susanna stopped. Took a breath. ‘Abby has always resented Ellie, ever since she was born. Oldest child syndrome. Found she had to share her mother with a new baby. And then, when Ellie was only five years old, she became ill. Quite severely ill. It lasted for several years. I was beside myself.’ Susanna’s voice began to break with anguish. ‘The doctors couldn’t find out what was wrong, and then . . .’ She trailed off.

  ‘Please continue,’ prompted Lieutenant Colonel Baroni.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Susanna. She inhaled. ‘I eventually discovered what it was. Why Ellie had been so very ill.’ She looked up at Baroni. ‘Her sister hated her so much she had been poisoning her.’

  NINETEEN

  Matteo was looking at her, dumbfounded. Let him look, thought Susanna, he needs to hear this.

  He shook his head and gave a disbelieving laugh. ‘What did you just say?’

  Susanna’s head dropped; it was hard enough to say the first time, and then Baroni spoke sharply to Matteo in Italian. It was clear she was telling him to be quiet.

  ‘How did you get your injury?’ Baroni asked Susanna.

  ‘Well, when I got the drinks for us all and came back outside I could see Abby was upsetting Ellie. You have to understand that Ellie knew nothing about what her sister had done to her. When she was a child, I thought it best not to tell her, and then after Abby left home at eighteen . . . well, so much time had passed. Why bring it all up again? I was so relieved when Abby moved to Italy as I thought the distance would be good for Ellie. She always wanted to be close to Abby, you see, but Abby would push her away.’ Susanna checked herself. ‘Sorry, I’ve gone off on a tangent. Ellie told me that Abby had invited her out here to Elba and I was immediately on alert – it was so out of character. I phoned Abby and asked her why she’d invited Ellie over and she said something about wanting to make amends. I didn’t believe a word of it. Why now? I asked her why she’d want to do that to a sister she couldn’t stand.’

  ‘And what did she say?’ asked the lieutenant.

  ‘She told me the animosity was years ago. Wanted to start afresh now she’d moved out here. I still didn’t believe her but I thought my energy was better used seeing for myself. So I suggested that I come too. Abby agreed but I was to arrive a couple of days after Ellie. Then last week Abby rang me. Begged me not to tell Ellie about what she’d done to her little sister when they were children. I’ve kept it secret for years – I’ve felt guilty about that too – and it did occur to me that if Abby wanted a clean slate, then maybe it was a good idea for her to explain what she’d done. But she insisted on keeping it quiet. She got quite upset with me about it.’ Susanna sighed. ‘I didn’t like the sound of any of it. That’s why I came here a couple of days early. I was wary of Abby being alone with Ellie.’

  ‘You still haven’t explained the injury,’ said Baroni, pointing at Susanna’s head.

  ‘This is all complete rubbish,’ said Matteo, unable to contain his frustration anymore. ‘Sorry, Susanna, but Abby’s not some child abuser. She asked her sister here because she genuinely wanted to get closer to her.’

  ‘She has a history of lying,’ said Susanna quietly. ‘When I brought the drinks out on the terrace, I could see she’d upset Ellie. Then she told her’ – Susanna looked visibly shaken, placed a hand on her chest – ‘that Ellie had been poisoned as a child but that I had done it. I couldn’t believe it. All those years I’d protected her and then she did that. Lied about me like that. I could see Ellie was distraught and I went to her but she was so traumatized she pushed me away. I fell and must have blacked out. Cut my head on the broken gla
ss.’

  Lieutenant Baroni took all this in. Susanna saw Matteo shake his head in disbelief.

  ‘Where is she now?’ asked Baroni. ‘Where are both of your daughters?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Susanna hopelessly. ‘They’re not here and Abby’s car is gone. I’m guessing Abby took Ellie somewhere.’

  ‘Any idea where?’

  ‘No. I mean, I’ve only just arrived. I don’t know the island or where Abby would go.’ Susanna looked up at Matteo for assistance.

  ‘Are you trying to suggest she’s gone on the run?’ he asked incredulously.

  ‘Well, she didn’t stay and help me,’ replied Susanna. ‘Might as well have left me for dead.’

  Matteo stood. ‘I’m going to be late for work,’ he said and went out of the room.

  Susanna heard him go upstairs. She turned to Lieutenant Baroni. ‘We need to find them. I’m worried about what Abby might do to Ellie.’

  ‘You think that she still might harm her?’

  ‘I’m convinced of it. She’s psychologically damaged, has an obsessive personality – controlling almost. She did nothing but work until she was able to retire early. But even coming out here hasn’t made her let go of Ellie. She’s always hated her, hated the bond Ellie and I have. Something that ironically Abby made even stronger by causing Ellie’s illness.’ Susanna paused. ‘That must have hurt a lot.’

  Susanna got her bag from the floor and found her phone. She turned the screen to face the police, so they could see the photo she’d pulled up. Captain Santini’s eyes widened, as he made no attempt to hide his interest.

  ‘Yes,’ said Susanna, clipped. ‘She’s beautiful. Something else Abby resented about her.’

  Baroni frowned at Santini’s lack of respect. She’d never worked with him before but she’d been distantly aware of his reputation. He was known for his violent undertone – nothing that would get him into trouble, but there had been rumours of him breaking the rules with prisoners when no one was looking. Baroni had been dismayed when he’d been assigned to the investigation with her. She’d requested an alternative officer but her boss, irritated by her challenging his authority (not for the first time), had refused.

  Matteo, now changed into his uniform, had come back into the room. He seemed agitated.

  ‘Are you leaving for work now?’ asked Susanna.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I can’t.’ He ran his hand through his hair, seemed unsure of what to do.

  ‘I thought you said you were going to be late?’ said Susanna.

  Matteo paused. ‘My gun is missing from the safe.’

  The room fell silent.

  Susanna felt goosebumps run up her arms. ‘Who knew the code?’ she asked quietly.

  Matteo was wrestling with himself. ‘OK, so, yes, Abby did too,’ he said defensively. ‘But it doesn’t mean she took my gun.’

  He wasn’t convinced, Susanna could tell. She shifted her eyes over to the police and was relieved to see they were taking her concerns a whole lot more seriously. She also saw Santini’s look of relish. This investigation had clearly just stepped up a gear.

  TWENTY

  The farmer drove his tractor along the road, enjoying the quiet warmth of the evening. The sun had almost set and if he looked up into the hills to his right, he could see his olive groves becoming blanketed by the dark. It gave him a sense of well-being, of the right order of things. Soon he would be home where his wife would have a hearty stew on the table, which he would enjoy with a glass of Sangiovese.

  As he rounded the corner, he clocked something in the shadowy road up ahead. He frowned; it looked like a car, abandoned. He approached, stopping just before the vehicle. Switching off his engine, he climbed down and walked over to the car. He saw the wall and whistled. This land belonged to his neighbour, Antonio, who would be most disgruntled at the amount of damage to his wall. This section would need rebuilding completely! The farmer checked up and down the road – night was coming and drivers wouldn’t see the deserted car in the dark. He took his phone out of his pocket and dialled for the police.

  TWENTY-ONE

  ‘Their phones are going straight to voicemail,’ said Lieutenant Baroni. ‘We’ll check the ferry records – see if Abby’s car was registered with any of them.’

  ‘You think they’ve left the island?’ asked Susanna.

  ‘It’s possible. Can you show us their rooms?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘They’re looking for bodies,’ said Matteo. ‘They’ll search the whole house.’

  Susanna looked from Matteo to Baroni, aghast. ‘You think they’re here? Ellie’s here?’

  ‘We don’t know anything yet,’ said Baroni with a reprimanding look at Matteo. ‘But if we could see their rooms . . .?’

  Susanna stood and led the way upstairs. The Carabinieri followed, with Matteo bringing up the rear. Susanna stopped outside Abby’s room first but, aware Matteo was behind her, didn’t like to encroach any further.

  The lieutenant had no such qualms and stepped forward. ‘Have any of her clothes gone?’ she asked.

  Matteo uncrossed his arms and went over to the wardrobe, looking inside. ‘I think so. A few.’

  ‘Anything else you notice?’

  ‘No.’

  Susanna watched from the doorway as the police moved around the room, looking on shelves, opening drawers. Captain Santini moved over to the bed, began to rummage around the bedside cabinet. From the top, he picked up the book Abby must have been reading, turned it upside down and flicked through it, but nothing fell out. He opened the drawer and pulled out a couple more books and a bundle of envelopes.

  Santini separated the envelopes from the books and, taking one off the top, tossed the rest on the bed.

  ‘Hey!’ protested Matteo.

  Santini smiled smugly at Matteo, at his look of indignation. He opened the envelope. ‘It is from you?’

  ‘Nothing in there is useful. Written a year ago. After we’d first met.’

  Santini shrugged and began to read, a smirk on his face.

  ‘We should still check,’ said Lieutenant Baroni, plucking the letter from her colleague’s hands. She pocketed the envelopes, much to Matteo’s frustration, and Susanna braced herself, as it looked as if he was about to object, when Captain Santini spoke again.

  ‘Well, what do we have here?’

  He was crouched on the floor, the door of the cupboard underneath the cabinet open. In his hand was a small yellow plastic container.

  ‘What’s that?’ Susanna asked, frowning. She couldn’t read the label on the front from the other side of the room.

  Baroni took the bottle from her colleague. ‘Weedkiller,’ she said.

  Susanna started. ‘Oh my God.’

  ‘What?’ exclaimed Matteo.

  ‘Any idea why your wife would keep weedkiller hidden in her bedroom?’ asked Baroni.

  Matteo was struggling to answer; confusion riddled his face. ‘I don’t know how that got there. It wouldn’t be Abby . . .’

  ‘Who would it be?’ asked Baroni matter-of-factly.

  ‘I don’t know . . . It doesn’t make sense.’

  Susanna was beginning to feel sorry for him, but then a sudden thought made itself present in her mind.

  ‘Ellie was ill,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Night before last. She was feeling terribly unwell.’

  She looked up at the bottle of weedkiller with its glaring yellow packaging. ‘You have to find them,’ she urged the police. She started to cry, the salty tears irritating the sunburn on her face. ‘Please. You have to find them.’

  Matteo took a deep breath, tried to restore calm. ‘This doesn’t prove anything.’

  The lieutenant’s phone rang. She answered. ‘Pronto.’

  She spoke in Italian and Susanna was unable to follow the conversation, but she watched Matteo’s face, saw the shadow cross it.

  ‘What’s happened?’ she asked quickly.

  Lieutenant Baroni hung up. ‘Abby’s car has been
found. On the mainland. It’s damaged, crashed into a wall.’

  Susanna cried out, a sound of anguish. ‘Oh my God. Ellie, is she OK?’

  ‘There was no one at the scene,’ said the lieutenant. ‘I think it’s of the highest importance that we find your daughters as soon as possible.’

  TWENTY-TWO

  Lieutenant Colonel Baroni watched as the pickup truck winched Abby Morelli’s car up onto the ramps. Night had fallen and the crash site was lit by the forensic team lights. Numerous moths and bugs flitted in the beams, suicidal as they hurtled themselves at the piercing brightness. The car would be checked over thoroughly but Baroni had already flashed her torch over the seats. There were no bodies. A small amount of blood on the driver’s seat but that was it. She looked up at the torches flaring through the olive groves, could hear the sounds of the dogs as they strained at their leads. Were the women out there somewhere, perhaps having wandered off from the scene to get help? Or had one tried to escape from the other and failed, now lying dead and bloodied under an olive tree? Somehow she sensed not. Baroni’s instincts told her these women had gone in the direction of the road. She looked into the darkness, the same way that the car had been facing. In her gut she felt the two sisters had continued on the same course. She called over to Captain Santini and they got back into their patrol car.

  Standing outside the ochre-painted house, Baroni knocked for a second time. Santini was standing next to her, his whole body hyper with impatience. He raised an arm, about to hammer on the door again, but she flashed him a look and he sulkily pulled back. Inside she could hear the sounds of people in for the evening – and a woman’s voice calling out to her husband to answer the door as she was cooking.

  A few seconds later the door did open and Baroni was faced with a portly middle-aged man. She introduced herself and the glowering captain by her side, apologized for disturbing him that evening, then confirmed with the man that he owned the garage on the edge of the village. She clocked his slightly nervous, shifty stance when she mentioned his premises, but focused on Signoras Morelli and Spencer.