Murder in Italy

by Dianne Harman

  “No one would be Chiari,” Salvatore said.

  “No, but… wow. You’re really in love with this woman, huh?”

  Salvatore felt his eyes glaze over with tears. “Yes. And if she was happy, I would have let her go. But the truth is, my brother never loved her. I knew that. She was just a trophy to him, because she was so beautiful. And because he had stolen her from me.”

  Blair nodded, drinking it all in.

  “And news comes down here from time to time. His business success carries far, because of his public persona. My brother has a mistress. Even with a child. How dare he do that to Chiari? She deserves the best. It would not surprise me if he is loose with his insults and his fists with her, too, just like my father was with my mother.”

  He swallowed down tears and rage. “I cannot let this happen!” Then his voice softened. “But I cannot ‘take’ Chiari, because she is not an object. She is a person with her own thoughts and feelings. With her own choice… I just do not see why she has made this choice, this choice that causes her untold misery.”

  Blair looked at Salvatore with a burning intensity in her eyes. “Perhaps it’s not over. Perhaps there is a way you can get her back. Maybe she is waiting for you to rescue her.”

  Salvatore sat up straight. Blair had gotten his attention. No one had ever said or suggested such a thing. Usually, by this point in the story, their eyes had glazed over, and they stammered out any excuse they could think of to get away.

  “I don’t know,” Salvatore said. “I doubt it.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Blair agreed. “But Sal, anyone can tell you’re a great guy. Don’t throw your life away regretting the past. You could have a future, too.” Blair gave him a firm pat on the back. “How about that picture now? It’s not going to be so gloomy, would be my guess. I’ll change the whole spin of my blog post. Make it like you’re going to move on up. Getting your story out for the first time must have really helped, huh? Guess you’re glad you bumped into me?”

  Blair stepped back a few paces to snap the picture, and Salvatore actually managed a smile.

  CHAPTER 7

  The drive to Luigi’s castle took them all, Luigi, Deborah, Kat, and Blaine, through acres and acres of vineyards, up a long winding driveway, and finally onto a large, circular, gravel area with a large fountain in the center and trees all around.

  The castle itself was even more exquisite when viewed close up. Some of the vines coursing across the face of it were flowering, gorgeous fuchsias in royal purples and pure whites. The castle looked even larger from close up. Kat tried to count the number of windows going across the top floor, but lost her place when she got to eighteen.

  “This is incredible,” Blaine said. “Truly exquisite.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” Kat gushed. “Is there time for a tour before dinner? Not of the whole place, that would probably take hours and hours, but just the main rooms?”

  “Of course,” Luigi said, parking the Maybach. “Mrs. Bianchi has prepared our dinner to be ready at 7:00 p.m., so we have a little time. Let’s go around to the back first.”

  “You’ll both love it,” Deborah said.

  And they did.

  It took a while to get around to the back, since the castle was so wide. They passed little herb gardens, well-tended bushes bearing all kinds of flowers, olive trees, and a little water garden with a trickling man-made stream bubbling over a gorgeous rock formation.

  “I dedicated this garden to my father,” Luigi said, then he laughed. “When I was a child, he always liked to sit by a stream when he felt stressed out. And his stress was probably caused by me. It was infrequent that he took me with him to visit a nearby stream, but when he did, those were some of the best moments of my childhood.”

  They finally reached the back of the castle, and Deborah hadn’t been lying, it certainly didn’t disappoint. There was a sweeping veranda which ran the entire length of the back side of the castle. It was designed in a grand, almost royal-looking style, with vast stone steps leading up to it.

  Kat climbed the steps behind the others, looking around in awe. As they got further and further up, the awe only increased. The view was incredible. It was so incredible it didn’t even look real. It was more like a painting than real life. It made Kat feel almost philosophical about just how large the world was. She was transported out of her mind, and into something else entirely. She saw cars weaving through the countryside in the distance, and spotted little country houses dotted here and there.

  The others were silent for a moment, also swept away by the view.

  “I come here when I need to be reminded that my problems are small,” Luigi said with a laugh. “That there is more to life than the wine business.”

  “It’s like the house of a statesman,” Blaine said. “I could imagine this would be a great place to think about world problems, or at least the local community. After all, you can see all of the community in front of you.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “Actually, you’re right. It was my grandfather’s, and he was a statesman. The castle had been in the family for many generations.”

  Luigi led the way inside. Opening onto the veranda, there were numerous floor to ceiling double doors. Only one was open, and long curtains fluttered by the open window. Luigi pulled them aside for everyone else to step through.

  Kat suppressed a gasp as they walked in. It was some kind of a reception room, though she wondered what the Italians called it. A living room sounded far too small. A salon? A parlor? A smoking room?

  It was like stepping right into the past, complete with bigger-than-life size portraits on the walls in gilded golden frames. Enormous chandeliers hung overhead, while ancient rugs graced the polished floor. It was all very intricate and detailed, and everywhere Kat looked there was some kind of decoration or ornament that looked like a very expensive antique.

  Luigi continued his story, “But my grandfather lost everything when one of the mafias set their sights on him. He tried to stand up to them, but needless to say, it went extremely badly. He went from a successful, happily married man who was full of joy and love which spread through his political influence, to a homeless, divorced alcoholic, who had nothing pleasant to say about anybody or to anybody.

  “The couple of times I met him I was terrified of him. I remember he and my father having a fight, an actual physical fight, when I was about six. We cut contact with him after that. As a child, he was the stuff of nightmares, but as I got older and listened to more and more of my father’s stories, I realized that really, the man was not evil. He was just broken, so broken he couldn’t put himself back together.

  “And it broke my father, too, who also turned to the bottle. So… when I saw that the castle was on the market… the mafia who had seized it had been driven away when their leader was killed by rivals and the locals started fighting more strongly against them – it roused something within me. Like, maybe I could put everything right by buying it. I know it sounds silly, rather superstitious, but I think it has worked. Ever since I bought it, life has been good. My father passed away just after I purchased it, as if I’d brought him some kind of peace.”

  The more he spoke, the better Kat liked Luigi. He was such a warm-hearted man, and she was so glad Deborah had found someone like him. Kat was sure he’d be kind to her and protect her from any kind of harm.

  “I’m sure your grandfather would be proud of you,” Blaine said. “Did the antiques come with the house? Were they family antiques?”

  “No,” Luigi said. “Well, yes, some of them were. The mafia had gutted the castle of anything of value and sold it off. They’d even pulled out some of the plasterwork and structural elements, which I had to rebuild. Local powers took control of the property when they managed to drive the mafia out, but they couldn’t afford the upkeep on it. I had to do a lot of structural repair work. Then I hired a couple of antique scouts.

  “My best find was this…” He pointed to a portrait. �
��That is my great-grandfather. We tracked that down to a private collection in Hong Kong, of all places. Those mafia really have connections.” Luigi laughed. “Anyway, shall we continue?”

  He led them through a series of similarly grand rooms. Kat particularly liked one that had a blue and gold color scheme. It looked like a place where a king and queen would live. “Queen Deborah,” she teased as she looked at her friend.

  Deborah laughed. “I’m just glad Luigi has Mrs. Bianchi and her team. Can you imagine how much cleaning we’d have to do, just the two of us?”

  Kat chuckled. “You’d be dusting all day and all night.”

  “It’s nearly 7:00 p.m. now,” Luigi said, looking at his watch. “Let’s go to the wine room.”

  When they were back in the grand hallway, he opened a large wooden door that led downstairs into a charming space. It had rustic stone walls, but paired with a modern shiny black tiled floor, it was a perfect mix between old and new. The lights were dimmed, and the set table flickered with soft candlelight.

  “Sometimes Luigi rents out this space for events,” Deborah said.

  “I can see why. It’s beautiful,” Kat said.

  The walls were covered with wine racks in enclosed glass cases.

  “Great presentation of the wines,” Blaine complimented Luigi.

  “Thank you,” Luigi said, smiling proudly, as if the wine bottles were his children. “Each case has a different temperature, so each bottle is in its own ideal habitat, so to speak.”

  “Brilliant idea,” said Kat.

  “Now, let’s eat!” Luigi said, leading them to the table. The appetizers were ready on platters and wine bottles had been placed on the white tablecloth. “Wow, Mrs. Bianchi has done a wonderful job.”

  “You said you hold events here?” Kat said. “Will yours be the first wedding held here?”

  “No, it won’t,” Luigi said with a smile. “I’ve been glad to host many of them here. My grandfather was always a family man, so this brings me great joy. I think we may be around the 100th couple to tie the knot here.”

  “And it’s going to be a big wedding,” Deborah said, rolling her eyes. “I told Luigi to try to stick to twenty people.”

  “But that’s not the Italian way,” Luigi said with a laugh. “Everyone will say I snubbed them.”

  Kat laughed. “So how many guests are you expecting?”

  Deborah winced. “About two hundred.” Then she reached out and squeezed Kat’s hand. “I’m so glad you can be here to be my matron of honor. That means the world to me. You can be crowd control, too.”

  Kat smiled warmly. “We wouldn’t have missed it for the world. And I’ll bring my cattle prod to control the crowd.”

  “Who will be your best man, Luigi?” Blaine asked.

  “My friend Bruno Lombardi. You’ve probably heard of Lombardi wines?”

  “I certainly have,” Kat said.

  “Of course,” Blaine said. “We have those back home.”

  Luigi smiled. “He’s doing great. We met in Florence many, many years ago when we were both little more than kids, ready to further our careers. He’d come at the behest of his father, to learn more about wine. I was doing the same, reluctantly, only because my father wanted me to. We both shared feelings about our fathers, and then became friends for life.”

  The next two hours were spent enjoying the special dinner of torta di Gorgonzola e Pere, Risotto Affumicano con Pistacchi di Paolo, Stemperata di Pollo, and Biancomangiare.

  “Luigi, that was delicious,” Blaine said with a grin. My compliments to your chef. A tart, risotto, chicken and blancmange. I couldn’t have asked for anything more delicious. My stomach also thanks you.”

  Now that dinner was finished, Kat felt happy and rather sleepy. She couldn’t keep herself from yawning every other minute or so. “Sorry,” she said. “I think it’s jetlag.”

  “Perhaps we’ll skip the nightcap,” said Deborah, “or have it back at my house. Otherwise, I have a feeling Kat will be snoring into her Bailey’s.”

  Kat chuckled. “You’re right about that,” she just about managed to finish saying before she yawned yet again.

  Luigi drove them home, and they arranged to meet again the next day.

  “Thank you for everything,” Blaine told him as they pulled into Deborah’s driveway.

  “Don’t mention it! Don’t mention it,” Luigi said, sounding almost offended. He walked Deborah to the door and gave her a kiss. Then he ruffled Primo on the head before leaving.

  Primo followed them into the house. Deborah paused and turned around. She wagged her finger at him and said in a funny voice, “Hey, Mr. Primo. Where do you think you’re going?”

  Primo walked back a little, looking sheepish, and Kat couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Aww, he looks so sweet! Don’t you let him inside?”

  “It’s not really done here,” Deborah said. “He was always an outside dog and he seemed quite happy. Lately he’s started following me in, though. I’m thinking about changing his routine, but I’m not sure I know enough about dogs to do it successfully. I’m doing a lot of research about it online.”

  Kat was glad Deborah was taking dog ownership seriously. So many people didn’t, and seeing how much Jazz and Rudy depended on her and loved her, it just broke her heart.

  Primo came over to her and nudged her. She bent down and ruffled him under his neck. “How are you doing Primo? You’re a lovely boy.” She looked up at Deborah. “I love the name.”

  “I know, right? It’s very appropriate, considering he’s my first dog,” Deborah said, then laughed. “Particularly since he thinks he’s number one in this house.”

  “Bless him,” Kat said, then placed her head against his. “Are you the big dog around here? Yes, you are!”

  “Don’t encourage him,” Deborah said with a laugh. “Now I’ve got to put him back outside and then why don’t we have that nightcap?”

  CHAPTER 8

  Sofia kneeled behind the screen of the confessional and made the sign of the cross. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been nearly three years since my last confession. These are my sins.”

  A long silence stretched out between her and the priest. Sofia felt like she was drowning. But that feeling was no different from what she’d felt during the past few days. It was the reason she was here in the first place. But now it seemed the water was gushing down her throat with great force, and she was about to fall deep down into a watery grave.

  “So…”

  Her mind tangled itself in knots as she tried to work out where to start.

  “Yes?” the priest said gently.

  “I have been having an affair with a married man. I thought that… well, I thought it would be excused by God because we were in love, in true love. Our love was the real one. Their marriage was a mistake. A trick of the devil, he has called it. We were the ones who were meant to be together. We’re spiritually married. I know God would ordain us to be married, not them.”

  She so desperately wanted the priest to understand, to agree, to absolve her. But he was silent. She felt panic mount in her chest. All she could do was ramble on, her words tumbling out faster and faster.

  “And, well, he told me that they were living in a chaste relationship, like brother and sister. Even when it first began, he told me that. They looked romantic and happy together, but he let me in on a secret – it was all a farce, a front. She had never loved him. She’d loved his brother Salvatore, but switched over to Bruno when she found out he would be the one inheriting all his father’s wealth and property. So you see, Father? You see how their marriage is not a true union of love before God?”

  The priest said gently, “You are here to confess your own sins. Not those of others.”

  Sofia let out a little sob. “Yes, Father. So… I had a child by this man. Thirteen years ago. Ever since then he has promised that he would break it off with this false wife of his. He assured me they slept in separate beds, that their mar
riage has long been over, and they live together like brother and sister. No, in fact, like strangers. All she is interested in is buying expensive things from abroad. He says she does not even pray.”

  “Again, your own sins, please.”

  “My only sin has been to be a loving woman, Father. A trusting woman.” Her voice caught in her throat. This was the thing she didn’t want to say, the thing she didn’t want to admit. “But, Father, I am afraid that I have trusted the wrong man.” She broke down into a sob, then stayed silent for a long time. It felt like the confession booth was closing in on her – like the whole world was closing in on her.

  “Go on,” the priest said calmly.

  “Maybe my brother was right,” she said hollowly, then continued. “The man came to my house to visit, as he so often does.” Her voice cracked. “He paid for my house, Father. I thought it was because he was a good man, and he would come to live with us someday, like he always promised. But maybe…” She swallowed her tears. “Well, he came to my home. He likes a particular brand of perfume that I wear, and I had run out. So I ran to the shop to get some. When I returned, I heard him in the bedroom, talking on the phone to Chiari, his devil wife.”

  She desperately wanted the priest to say something, but he wouldn’t. It made her angry. Furious.

  “And he was saying to her how much he loves her and cannot wait to return home,” she spat. It was the word ‘home’ that had gotten to her the most. It devalued her and all she had to give. She had been waiting so long for him to come home, the home she shared with Diego, his very own son!

  He had always phrased it that way, too. He had always said, “That cold, soulless mansion, with that cold, soulless woman? It is just a mansion to me. It will never be home anymore. She has destroyed it. Home is where the heart is. And my heart is with you.” Then he would lean forward and kiss her, and they’d make passionate love.

  But had that all been a lie?