“Yes,” said Luigi. “This is a family place.”
Kat ventured her idea, though rather tentatively. “Chiari, do you know who the estate passes to now?”
Deborah translated Chiari’s response. “Me, of course, as his wife. I have not seen his will, but surely it must be me.” But she had begun nibbling on the skin at the side of one of her long fake nails, and looking worried.
“I was just wondering, given that it is a family estate, if Salvatore might stand to inherit, and that he might have access to the cellar.”
Chiari looked outraged and raised her voice when she spoke.
“She said Salvatore would never do such a thing. And he will not inherit anyway,” Deborah translated.
A horrible thought struck Kat. Since Chiari was so incensed, she was tempted not to say it. But the murder investigation had to continue, regardless of anyone’s hurt feelings. She didn’t like being shouted at, but was prepared to be. “What if you died? Who would the estate pass to then? Salvatore?”
Deborah winced before she translated it, but she duly did so. Chiari, sure enough, shouted, and then cried.
Deborah translated, “She says do you suggest Salvatore killed his own brother, and then would come to kill me, his first love? Do you want to take away everyone in the world from me? First Sofia takes my husband away, then a murderer does. I have no one. Salvatore is a good man. A very, very kind and gentle man. Kat, I think we should stop now. I think she needs to rest.”
“You’re right,” Kat said. She was very intrigued about Chiari being Salvatore’s first love, but realized it would have to be pursued another day. Chiari was sobbing and pouring herself another Guappa.
Kat started to feel guilty. “Can you tell her I’m really sorry? I didn’t mean to make her so upset. I just want to make sure we don’t miss anyone when we’re looking into the murder. I really am sorry, though. Maybe we can talk more tomorrow?”
Deborah translated and Chiari’s sobs quietened to sniffs. Then she spoke in a quiet voice.
“She says she understands, and appreciates what you are doing,” Deborah translated. “Just please, try to be gentle with her. She is not coping very well and feels very fragile. She is under even more pressure from entertaining her family.”
Kat felt very sad for Chiari. Even after her husband had been murdered, she still felt an obligation to entertain her family and friends. That told her all she needed to know about Chiari’s family dynamics. She wanted to reach out and hug Chiari, but she was sure that would be quite inappropriate, especially given how she had just upset her.
“I’m so sorry,” she said again. “Rest assured I intend do my absolute best for Bruno.”
Chiari gave her a grateful, though tear-stained, smile.
CHAPTER 12
Kat was very glad they weren’t putting more pressure on Chiari by staying over and requiring more ‘entertaining,’ like her family did. Instead, the four of them, with Luigi’s help, made arrangements to stay at the Hotel Pitrizza. Luigi had an old friend who owned it, and Luigi and Bruno had often gone there for dinner and drinks after a round of golf.
While they were still sipping their Guappas, Luigi had ordered a rental car. “I can’t stand taxis,” he said. “You always have to be prepared to wait until they are ready to come and get you.”
Soon they were driving out of the vast Lombardi estate and toward Costa Smaralda, where the hotel was located. It was a short drive, but very scenic, with excellent views of the glittering Mediterranean.
The hotel itself was right on the coast, a handful of luxury stone buildings constructed against the natural rock formations at the seafront.
“Wow, this is really something,” Deborah said, but in a muted sort of way. None of them could muster up any joy given the circumstances. She looked at Primo worriedly. “Are you sure they’re okay with dogs?”
“Not usually,” Luigi said, “but they said they’ll make an exception.”
Luigi drove up to the entrance and a valet opened his door and indicated he would take the car. As Luigi walked towards the hotel entrance, he stopped and gripped onto one of the grand columns supporting the portico. He stared at the fountain, its relaxing trickling sound echoing around the marble atrium.
Then he stared vacantly at the view of the Mediterranean Sea beyond. He looked all around, seemingly taking in everything, as if it was the first time he’d ever been there, and he was very entranced by all of it. Kat, Deborah, and Blaine walked towards the reception desk with Luigi following, while the bell staff wheeled their suitcases into the hotel lobby.
“Welcome back to the Pitrizza, Mr. Giordano,” one of the staff members said to Luigi.
Luigi snapped out of his reverie. “Oh, yes, yes, thank you.” He walked up to the others. “I do apologize,” he said. “This is the first time I have been here without Bruno. It has caused me to suffer a great sadness.”
“We could get another hotel, if you like?” Deborah suggested. “One without so many memories.”
“No,” Luigi said, then his face brightened up. “No thank you, darling. You are most kind to think of me, but I will be fine. I want to be here. I want to remember Bruno. We will have a special dinner tonight, to give him a good send off. We will drink. We will eat. We will be merry. That is what Bruno liked to do. Then seeking justice must resume in the morning.”
Kat nodded. “That sounds like a good plan.”
They checked in, and were led to their rooms by a staff member who knew Luigi personally. They chatted in Italian, and Kat could just make out that they were talking about wine. The word ‘vino’ was easy enough to remember. The staff member also made a big fuss over Primo, and Kat saw that Deborah was visibly relaxing.
The hotel suites were more like villas, spread across the gorgeous coastal landscape. They were all connected by a luxurious and large outdoor area, with an infinity pool that appeared to splash over the edge and right into the sea. It had been edged with an abundance of blue tiles – azure and sky blue and cobalt and indigo and royal blue and navy – until the entire pool looked like the sea itself. From the pool area, a grand staircase flanked with palm, fuchsia, and bougainvillea plants, led down towards a white sand beach. But they took the other direction, toward the villas. It was a beautiful pathway, with pale gravel that crunched pleasingly underfoot.
“I hope you will love our facilities,” the hotel staffer said to Kat, Blaine, and Deborah. “Will you be joining us for dinner tonight?”
“Yes,” Blaine said with a smile. “I believe we are planning a feast in honor of a dear friend of Luigi’s.”
“Ah, yes, a feast! Well, that can certainly be arranged.”
“It is going to be in honor of Bruno Lombardi,” Luigi said quietly. “He has passed away.”
The hotel staffer stopped walking. “No. Mr. Giordano, you cannot be telling the truth.”
Luigi spoke in Italian, his voice full of feeling.
The hotel staffer replied with the same level of feeling, and actually wiped a tear away. He said something in Italian, and then turned to the others. “Mr. Lombardi was a truly wonderful man. We hosted him here many times. Many, many times. In his honor, we will prepare the largest feast Hotel Pitrizza has ever seen. You do not need to concern yourself with the arrangements.”
Then, still looking slightly disturbed, he led them to their villas, which were adjoined by a courtyard and a pool that rippled and shone in the sunlight. Both villas were made of stone, in a mix of tans and warm beiges. The old-time feel of this was contrasted with white sleek décor everywhere else. The doors were modern and patent white, and the lounges were sleek and white, too.
The white theme continued inside, and everything looked fresh and clean. Kat and Blaine had a huge living room, a shining white-tiled bathroom, and a bedroom with a white four poster bed and a two-person jacuzzi, set up in a perfect position so they could watch the widescreen television from the bath.
“Oh my goodness,” Kat said to Blaine, o
nce Deborah and Luigi had gone to their own suite to unpack. “This is quite something.”
“Isn’t it just,” Blaine said, looking out the bedroom window that gave them an incredible view of the Mediterranean. “Bruno and Luigi sure knew how to live it up. I’m loathe to even look up the room rate for this place. I told Luigi that I’d pay, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He said it was on him because of how we’ve been inconvenienced.”
“He’s a good man, isn’t he? I’m really happy for Deborah.”
“That he is,” Blaine said. “More of a gentleman you’d be hard pressed to meet.” He sat down on the bed beside her.
Kat snuggled into him. “Except you, of course.”
“You’re too kind.”
“I sure hope someone will find Bruno’s murderer soon, whether that’s us, or the police, or whomever. As much as I’d like to, we can’t stay here indefinitely. Of course, I can work from here and write my books on my laptop, but you’ll have to get back to your DA duties soon, won’t you?”
“Yes,” he said. “But if we need to stay here a few more days, I can get the deputies to appear in court for me. I’m certainly not leaving you here on your own.”
“I can…”
“Kat, you’re a strong woman,” he said as he interrupted her. “The strongest I’ve ever known, but there is no way I could let you stay here, on your own, searching for a murderer. Your life could be in danger.”
“But I’m…”
“I know I can’t stop you from investigating. Half of me wishes I could, just to protect you. I don’t want anything to happen to you, and investigating murders is inherently dangerous. But the other half? I’m proud of you. So proud I could burst. So I can’t stop you, and I won’t try, but you do have to let me be there for you. If something happened to you, and I wasn’t here to protect you, I’d never be able to forgive myself.”
Kat smiled. “I’m sure I’ll be all right, but I really appreciate it. And I have to admit, being here is much more nerve-racking than back in Lindsay. At least there I was on my home turf. I knew where I was. Here, I’m disoriented. And it’s likely the killer knows every nook and cranny of the place. They must if they managed to sneak poison into Bruno’s wine, in his own cellar. Or at least that’s the coroner’s preliminary report, from what Luigi found out. That’s a pretty amazing feat. Unless…”
“Unless what?”
Kat thought for a moment. “Nothing. Crazy idea. Now, do you know what Luigi and Deborah have planned for the rest of the day?”
They met out by the pool a short while later.
“I hope the room is to your satisfaction,” Luigi said. “Lovely place, isn’t it?”
“Yes it is,” Kat said
“It certainly is,” Blaine said. “How much do I…”
“Nothing!” Luigi said firmly, giving Blaine a brotherly pat on the back. “Now, do you play golf?”
Blaine smiled. “Infrequently. When I’m lucky enough to get the time.”
“Brilliant!” said Luigi. “I’ll make arrangements for us to play at the Pevero Golf Club tomorrow, while these ladies investigate. I want to talk to Chiari about funeral arrangements, but otherwise, there’s no point in me sitting here doing nothing. Bruno would not have approved.”
Kat nodded. “It’s good to keep yourself busy.”
“Kat, why don’t we walk down by the beach with Primo?” Deborah suggested, then laughed. “We can leave these two to talk about drives or clubs or tees or whatever these golf mad men love to chat about.”
Kat laughed along. “I certainly don’t want to be caught up in that conversation. The beach sounds like a great idea. Give me just a minute. I want to change into some sandals.”
She did so, and put on some sunscreen as well. Deborah went inside her villa to get Primo, then she and Kat meandered up to the main infinity pool, and past it towards the beach.
“You know, I had an idea,” said Kat. “It’s a crazy one, and not pleasant to think about, but I don’t think it can be overlooked.”
“What is it?” Deborah asked.
“Well, of course we have to interview the vineyard manager. He’s the one who prepared the bottle of wine for Bruno, so it would only make sense.”
“Of course,” said Deborah.
“And we need to also have a look into who else might have been able to get access to the wine cellar.”
“Yes.”
Kat paused, not sure she wanted to venture forth with her idea. It seemed disloyal. “But what about Chiari? She certainly would have had access.”
“Yes, she would…” Deborah frowned. “I don’t think it’s likely she killed Bruno, though. Luigi said they always seemed to have a good relationship.”
“Oh, come on,” said Kat. “He’s been having an affair for over thirteen years, and she’s just received a note from his illegitimate son.”
Deborah didn’t look convinced. “It might have just been that this woman was trying to make a buck off of Bruno. It might not be true at all.”
“Yes, but what if it is? Chiari could have decided to poison Bruno’s wine because she found out about his affair.”
“Not much of a crime of passion though, is it?” Deborah said. “You’d expect a shooting or a strangling or something like that. Not a method as calculated as poisoning.”
Kat shrugged. “Perhaps she’s more calculated. Wants to make sure she doesn’t get caught.”
Deborah shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
As they stepped onto the warm soft sand, Kat slipped her sandals off. She just loved the feeling of warm sand between her toes. “But why not?”
“I don’t know,” Deborah said. “I just have a hunch she didn’t do it. She wasn’t involved.”
Deborah’s insistence was starting to get a little on Kat’s nerves. “You can’t go on hunches. I mean, you can use them to go digging in a new direction or whatever, but you can’t rule someone out from the investigation on a hunch. They’re not reliable enough.”
“Whatever you say,” Deborah said, with a little laugh. “But mark my words, when you wrap this investigation up, it won’t be Chiari being led away in handcuffs. I can feel that.”
Kat smiled. “Time will tell, but I want to at least think about it. I can’t rule her out just yet.”
“Hmm. What about Salvatore?” said Deborah. “We’ll have to find out if he stands to inherit or not. That would certainly provide a motive if it turns out he’s the heir to Bruno’s estate.”
“Yes,” Kat said. “Since he grew up on the Lombardi estate, he could have easily had someone that he knew, and was loyal to him, do his dirty work for him while he was miles away at his B AND B.”
“Definitely. And what was that about Chiari being Salvatore’s first love?”
“I heard that” said Kat. “I sure wasn’t expecting that one. How did Chiari end up marrying his brother? That must have been painful for him.”
Deborah nodded. “Perhaps painful enough to kill.”
“But why now?” Kat mused. “It must be at least twenty years later.”
Deborah shrugged. “You know the old saying, revenge is a dish best served cold.”
“Well, he’s definitely someone else we have to speak to. Chiari said he’s having a problem finding someone to look after his B AND B.” She looked at Deborah with bright eyes. “Perhaps we should go down there? Where did she say it was again?”
“Esporico,” Deborah said. “Wherever that is.”
Kat whipped out her cell phone and tapped in the word “Esprico.” “It’s a one and a half hour drive down the coast. We’ll have time to go down, stay for a while, then come back up before dinner at 8:00. How does that sound?”
Deborah smiled. “It’s your call, boss. I’m just the translator.”
CHAPTER 13
Kat always tried not to be too disparaging about bad neighborhoods – after all, people had to live there, work there, grow up there, and conduct their daily lives there, so she thought it
was in poor taste to think badly about such neighborhoods. But Esporico really tested her limits.
It was a rickety old seaside town, with old wooden buildings and concrete block houses with weeping black stains, caused by rain. The beach was a far cry from the pristine white sand at the hotel where they were staying. Deborah and Kat drove the rental car past a river leading to the sea, which was crammed full of empty plastic drink bottles, food wrappers, and other trash.
Similar items were strewn all along a trail leading down to the lapping shoreline where the sea frothed onto the dirty sand. Earlier they’d turned off the air-conditioner in their car and opened the windows to let the fresh smell of the sea breeze in, but as they drove into Esporico, the mixed stench of rubbish, seaweed, and dead fish filled their nostrils.
Deborah parked the car in a sad little parking lot by the beach front, and before they’d even stepped out of the car, they were swarmed by a group of little bare-chested boys between ten and twelve. They had on shorts and flip flops that were falling apart, and clutched various handcrafts and seashells.
“Hello, ladies,” one said in a fake American accent. “Welcome to Italy. Let me give you a gift.”
“No, take this one,” another said. “It’s much better!”
Deborah got out of the car and spoke to them in Italian in a gentle voice. They replied loudly and she replied sternly. She then let Primo out of the car and he immediately began to growl and bark, standing close to Deborah in a protective stance. Upon seeing Primo, the boys retreated, shouting at Kat and Deborah in Italian.
“What was that all about?” Kat asked.
“I told them maybe we’d buy later, then they insisted now, so I told them in no uncertain terms if they continued to bother us we certainly wouldn’t be buying anything. They got scared by Primo, then said a few unsavory things as they left.”
Kat watched them as they disappeared into a nearby street. “Shouldn’t they be in school?”
“Yes.” Deborah paused and looked around at the dirty beach, the rickety dock, and the people sitting listlessly outside their houses with nothing to do. She sighed deeply. “Poor kids.”
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