Murder on the Rocks (The Ralph Chalmers Mysteries Book 7)

by P. J. Thurbin

  ***

  Katie had agreed to fly over with Ralph and spend the weekend in Milan while Ralph competed in the Delgardo Menzies Tin Man and then join her at the hotel on the outskirts of Milan afterwards. Maria had made all the arrangements for their travel and accommodation. They flew to Zurich and after a short train ride to Chur caught the narrow gauge Bernina Express for the scenic route through the mountains to Tirano in Italy. There Katie caught the fast train to Milan and Ralph headed off for Como for a well needed night’s sleep so that he would be fresh for the race which was scheduled to start at 11am the next morning.

  After the race he went to the stop where earlier he had seen a bus with Milan on the front. He grabbed his bag and made a run for it as the hiss of the doors signalled that it was about to depart. As soon as he had paid his fare and looked for a seat he realised that it was a mistake. It only needed a cage with chickens and a dog barking and it would have been the perfect nightmare. He avoided sitting next to a rather large lady who was trying to amuse a child who, from what he could not avoid seeing, was covered in something brown and gooey. He hoped it was Chocolate. He sat next to an old man who kept taking out a worn card and showing it to him. It looked like a credit card that had been inside a wallet so long that the plastic was yellow and peeling. Ralph spoke no Italian and the man obviously thought he was a local. The large lady pushed the child to the side and leant over.

  “He war hero. No need ticket.”

  Ralph got the message. But the man insisted that Ralph take a closer look at the yellow card and kept trying to put it in Ralph’s hand. He looked more closely and recognised that it bore a photo of what must have been the old man when he was about 17 years old. Ralph hesitated to look up and compare it to the wizened old man that now sat grinning beside him. The bus swung and rocked around the mountain road as a radio blared folk music while the driver sang and bounced up and down as he gripped the steering wheel and poked his foot vigorously on and off the brake pedal. Ralph finally looked up. The only thing he could to do was to hand the card back and clap his hands in applause. It was obviously the right thing to do. Everyone stood and cheered and clapped, including, to Ralph’s horror, the driver. The large lady leant over.

  “Mussolini.” And Ralph almost ducked as she signalled her displeasure by feigning to spit. Everyone cheered again and laughed. El Dolce, Piazzale Loreto, she drew her stubby fat fingers across her ample throat. Then she shouted Clara Petacci and raised the hem of her grubby skirt. Everyone laughed. Two fingers seemed to be the international signal of disapproval which they used here with some vigour. Ralph decided it was best just to smile.

  They all sat down and the old man fell asleep clutching his free bus pass, probably the only benefit that he had got from the war, Ralph thought. His head rested on Ralph’s shoulder. Ralph was more than relieved when the driver turned to him and shouted, ‘Milano’. Some weeks later when Ralph was talking to Cynthia, she had explained that the people on the bus were mocking Benito Mussolini, the WW2 Fascist leader, and his mistress, Clara. He understood the significance of their outburst when Cynthia explained that the pair had been arrested by their people, shot, and then hung to the jeering of the crowds in the Piazzale Loreto, the ancient square in Milan.

  ***

  Ralph and Katie had reached a compromise over how he would play any job offer that Roberto might make. Ralph did not want to jeopardize any investment possibilities that Roberto had been discussing with Granger. A weekend in Milan and a polite but considered refusal seemed the best way to proceed. And if he were honest, he had been slightly flattered that he was still capable of attracting offers for his services. He just hoped that if an offer was forthcoming that he would be able to say no. It was an area where he had a poor track record.

  Katie was waiting for him as he got off the bus. She was sitting outside the hotel under an old tree and looked fresh and cool.

  “You look exhausted. How was it?” She said as she gave him a hug.

  He told her about the swim and that he had dropped some time on the bike section.

  “But the run was great and I managed to get third in my category. No new time, but the humidity was a killer.”

  “I must admit the weather here’s a pretty drastic change from England,” she agreed. “But then you’re the one who signed up for that competition, so you have to expect to pay the price.” As usual, Katie took no prisoners.

  “Let’s get inside out of this heat,” Ralph said as he held out his hand to her. “I’m dying for a cool drink. And that bus was dreadful. Full of people with screaming kids and smelly dogs.” He thought about the old man and wondered what he dreamt about. Perhaps when he was a lad in the war, or maybe his pals, or the girls they met.

  “I thought you liked your fellow beings,” she chided. “But well done on the race, anyhow.”

  Katie looked as cool as a cucumber in her light summery skirt and sandals. Ralph still felt hot and sweaty from the bus. But he felt considerably refreshed once he sat down in the cool hotel cafe and polished off two tall glasses of orange juice with plenty of ice. One of these days he would have to take a leaf out of Katie’s book and learn how to enjoy himself without making it into a an ordeal.

  “You’ll love our room. Maria booked us a suite overlooking a really pretty garden. Oh, and we have our own balcony where they serve breakfast if you don’t want to use the restaurant. I said you would like that.”

  When they got to the top of the marble stair case that led to their room, Ralph threw himself on the bed. The race must have taken more out of him than he thought.

  “Did Maria say when we were supposed to meet up with Roberto?” He asked as Katie switched on the overhead fan.

  “She said around 9. They eat late around here Ralph. She said they would send a car for us. I think his place is some way out of town. You’ll have to buck yourself up, though. Even though you don’t want it, you’ll be pretty disappointed if he doesn’t even offer you a job. Remember, you want to impress, even though you plan to turn down any offer he makes.”

  Ralph just grunted in response. It was only seconds before he was fast asleep. Katie decided to take pity on him and let him have his snooze. She had to admit, he did look pretty worn out.

  Ralph had showered in the make-shift wash area the officials had provided near the race finish. But he had to return the bike that he had hired for the race and that had just about finished him off. It was much later when he awoke to a cool breeze wafting through the open balcony doors. The long white voile drapes rustled against the side table where the hotel had placed a large vase of fresh flowers. He got up and saw that Katie was stretched out on a cane lounger reading a magazine.

  “So is this the lifestyle that you wish to become accustomed to Ms Eggleton?” he joked.

  “Well I must say it is pretty addictive. Maria and I spent the best part of the afternoon going around some really smart boutiques and having lunch in a mind bogglingly elegant restaurant. I’m sure I could get used to it.”

  “There’s still time to change our minds, you know. Why don’t we see what’s on offer. We could sail Gypsy Lady through the Med and have a berth in a small sun drenched port just down the coast. It could be an idyllic life.”

  “No, I don’t think so. We’re Devon folk at heart, Ralph. Besides, with no real tide in the Med, you’d find it all a bit tame.” They laughed at the thought of them trying to live La Dolce Vita.

  Their car arrived on the dot of 9. After a short drive, they pulled up at the gates of an ivy covered mansion that had been cleverly built into the hillside. Ralph and Katie thought the house probably dated from the late 1800’s. Their host was ready to greet them. Maria stood back. When he had met her at Goodwood she had appeared quite outward going and relaxed but now, at least to Ralph, she looked slightly cowed. Ralph knew she was not Roberto’s wife, and he thought it unlikely that she was his mistress. Perhaps being cast effectively as a servant accounted for her manner, he surmised.

&nb
sp; After a meal that left them replete but comfortable, they went out onto a sweeping veranda that had views over the city. The lights now threw a much softer glow over what in the daytime was a harsh white and brown landscape. During dinner Roberto had talked about how his family had built up the conglomerate business that he now presided over. Maria had said practically nothing, and Ralph noticed that when she tried to interject or comment on something that he or Katie said, Roberto gave that little tight-lipped look of displeasure that Ralph recalled had been his hallmark at Cambridge.

  “Maria, why don’t you show Katie my art collection,” Roberto said as he topped up Ralph’s glass. “We want to talk about the old days at Cambridge and I know how boring that can be.” He smiled at Katie. Ralph waited for Katie to let fly with a stinging retort at his blatant sexism, but she bit her tongue and stood up.

  “Yes, I’d like that,” Katie said. “We considered a consultancy with an art gallery a while back and I’d love to see what you have in your collection.”

  Ralph could see that Maria seemed relieved to get away from Roberto so that she could speak freely for a change. Once the two women left the room, Roberto stood up and walked over to lean on the balustrade at the edge of the balcony. Ralph welcomed an excuse to stand up because his body was still in recovery from the competition and he knew that his legs were prone to cramp if he sat in one position too long. Ralph had all but forgotten that all those chauvinistic behaviours still existed, but obviously his host had not moved with the times.

  “I’m glad you decided to come, Ralph. I’ll get straight to the point if I may,” Roberto said once he was certain that Katie and Maria were out of earshot.

  “By all means.”

  “As you know, I make a lot of investments across Europe and in some parts of the near East and Africa. Mostly are what you might call philanthropic in nature. I tend to concentrate on buildings and infrastructure projects; educational developments, environmental programmes, you know, that sort of thing. Naturally it’s not completely altruistic. Much of my regular businesses are in construction and transport. But it’s good for my image, and I make some good contacts. And, not to put too fine a point on it, it acts as a feed to my more profitable operations.”

  “It sounds like quite an operation,” Ralph commented noncommittally.

  “It’s big, Ralph. Very big and growing by the year. That’s why I want someone with me who I can trust. You have the right sort of background and credentials that would fit perfectly the role that I have in mind. But here let me show you this.”

  He handed Ralph a glossy brochure that must have cost a fortune to produce. As he flipped it open, Roberto switched on an art deco lamp behind him. Ralph had noticed the lamp when they first went in the room and had thought at the time that it would be perfect for his Surbiton apartment.

  “It all looks very interesting, but where would I fit in? I know nothing about building works or transport. My area is international business, not construction.”

  “I want you to take care of all the current projects as well as any new developments around Europe and overseas. It’s not a technical role. I’ve got my pick of those types. Ten a penny as we used to say about the town girls in Cambridge,” he laughed.

  Ralph now remembered why Roberto had been so unpopular at college. A braggart and a swine is how Ralph’s father would have described him.

  “I’m not at all certain that I’d be the man for a job like this,” Ralph hedged. On top of Roberto’s decidedly offensive attitude there was something else that struck Ralph as not quite right, although he could not put his finger on it.

  “I want you to be my ambassador. I can do all of the networking. That’s not a problem. But you know the education scene. Your title as Professor, your consulting background and your sporting interests all make a nice package.”

  Ralph was not at all sure that he wanted to see himself as ‘a nice package’, as Roberto had referred to it. And he could just imagine Katie’s reaction. But before he could reply, Roberto continued on with his sales pitch.

  “We have people that can give you a complete make-over. Not just on your appearance, but on your background as well. Naturally you’ll have a generous entertainment budget. After all, you can’t wine and dine the people with deep pockets at one of your fast food chains,” Roberto laughed at what he obviously saw as his witty remark.

  “Look Roberto,” Ralph interjected. “I really don’t think I’m the man for the job. I can’t see myself schmoozing with the good and the great at the best of times.”

  “Nonsense, Ralph. I saw you in operation at Goodwood and I think you would be just what our organization needs.”

  “Actually, I’m really quite happy where I am,” Ralph said. He did not want this to go any further, and he certainly did not want Roberto think he was leading him on.

  “If it’s more money you want, that’s not an issue,” Roberto laughed. “We can treble whatever you’re earning from the University. The expenses would be on top of that. Then there’s the Villa down here on the Coast and an apartment in London for entertaining special guests. It would be a far cry from the plebeian lifestyle you have in that little commuter town you live in. Surbiton, is it?”

  Ralph almost choked on the glass of wine that he had been pretending to sip. Often after a hard race, but especially in the heat, the muscles at the back of his left thigh would suddenly go into spasm. He stood up again. It was more an excuse to stretch than from any attempt at a dramatic gesture. The offer may have sounded tempting on some levels, but he had no intentions of working for someone as crass as Roberto.

  “No need to rush with an answer, Ralph. Take some time to think it over. It would be quite a change from facing up to those loutish students week after week. Although frankly I don’t see how you’ve been able to do it for all these years.”

  Ralph pressed his weight on the ball of his foot to ease his thigh muscle before he spoke.

  “I’m flattered, Roberto, I really am. But I need some time to think it over.” Ralph was annoyed with himself. He should have just refused the offer there and then, but as usual he seemed unable to give a flat out ‘no’. In this particular instance he also sensed that he needed to provide a plausible reason. He could hardly say, ‘sorry Roberto, but I could never work for such a crass individual like you’, although he guessed that that is exactly what Katie would have told him, and in no uncertain terms. On the face of it, it sounded like a stunning offer, but what was that old adage? If it sounds too good to be true it probably is.

  “Oh and by the way Ralph I have some ideas that might appeal to Katie. “I have some friends who owe me a few favours or need my support,” he gave a raucous laugh. “She wants to get a top post at one of the more prestigious Universities I’m sure. She’s a smart women and I could find her a post that would otherwise take her 10 years to reach.” He paused and held up his hands. “Alright enough shop talk for tonight. I can hear the ladies approaching so let’s get some fresh coffee and enjoy the late evening breezes. Tomorrow you must both come down to where I have my yacht. A day cruising around the coast should clear the mind and convince you to accept my offer.”

  Back at the hotel as they lay on the bed, the fresh cotton sheets taking the heat from their bodies with the night air providing a cooling breeze he told Katie about his conversation with Roberto. She was amused at the way Ralph had been cornered and laughed at the thought of him being an ambassador for someone who, as she so aptly put it was a ‘blooming prig’. They agreed to sleep on it. Things always looked better in the light of day.

  “Goodnight, Ralph,” Katie said as she pulled the sheet up over her head.

  _____________________

  Chapter 8

  Back in England it was raining. The weather forecast had been right: heavy rain storms arriving early to late evening followed by strong westerly winds. The regular slow sweep of the wipers on the Jag helped him to relax as he eased off the A3 Portsmouth road and onto the Milford tur
ning. He recognised the road which his father used to take when they made their annual visit to Petworth House. It was there that he had got his first taste for history which he later studied at Cambridge. Seeing those paintings by Turner and Van Dyck, the neoclassical sculptures by Flaxman and Carew and that wonderful 1592 terrestrial globe by Molyneux had all formed a lasting impression. No wonder they say that the first 12 years are the formative ones, he smiled at the thought of his own pomposity. He stopped at a crossroads and saw a sign that pointed the way to The Horse Guards Inn – Upperton Road, Tillington. If he expected to find where Colonel Stigart had his country home, then this must be the place to start. Could it be Kismet, he wondered. Probably the Colonel’s favourite watering hole, he smiled at the imagery of a red-faced soldier quaffing ale and laughing at his own jokes. Having parked and dodged through the puddles in order to reach the side door, he entered a typical English pub. It had been sensitively modernised to appeal to the discerning clientele who wanted authenticity but with all the mod cons thrown in. It was crowded with what looked to Ralph like the locals. He guessed that the wet weather had deterred tourists from straying off the beaten track

  “Just passing through, sir?” Asked a tall man with a clipped moustache and military bearing who was standing behind the bar. Ralph assumed that he was the publican. “What will you have?” No country dialect here thought Ralph. The locals in this part of the country were likely to be well heeled. He was aware that properties around here went for £3-4 million or even more, and by the look of the luxury vehicles outside, mostly top of the line SUVs and the odd Mercedes or BMW, it looked as though there was plenty of money around. He glanced at the range of local beers on offer.