“Where were you on the night between the 8th and 9th of July?”
“I was in the Villa Rosa with Ettore Fagiolo.”
“Tell us in your own words what happened that night.”
“Ettore had the keys to the Villa and had said we could go there as the Proctors were leaving at midnight. We often used other people’s houses, because they left him their keys.”
“How did he come to have the keys to the Villa Rosa?”
“Nigel gave him the keys last year when Ettore rented the place for them, for the summer.”
“But they no longer had that kind of relationship.”
“Oh no, Nigel was right off Ettore. He’d had an argument with him, a while before, and he wasn’t speaking to him. Nigel must have forgotten about the keys. Anyway we set off, and that crazy drunken German was running behind the car bellowing in German. Ettore was laughing like a drain. In fact we hadn’t been there long when there was this almighty crash, and old Fritzy was falling about down by the pool, knocking over chairs, so Ettore went down and got rid of him. He even kicked him up the arse and Fritzy scuttled away on all fours. God that was a sight.” He smiled as he spoke.
“You didn’t mention this in your previous statement.”
“Well it didn’t have anything to do with what happened afterwards. We went upstairs and we hadn’t been there long when we heard someone in the house. Ettore said it must be that crazy bastard again and went down to see. But it wasn’t. It was Nigel Proctor. He had come back, so then there was this terrible row. Nigel was furious. I thought they must have gone outside, because I heard a pot smash so I went to the window and saw Nigel chasing after Ettore. They stopped at the pool where Nigel charged at him, but Ettore shoved him backwards and he fell into that shed thing. He still hadn’t had enough, and came out with a shovel and swiped at Ettore, but he missed him by a mile and fell over. It was quite funny. Ettore kicked him in the face then and his nose must have started bleeding ‘cos he was mopping at it. Anyway he decided to give it up as a bad job and was coming back to the house. He held a handkerchief to his nose. He was yelling at Ettore ‘I’ll see you in court’ or words to that effect. Ettore was wetting himself laughing.”
“Did Ettore reply?” interrupted Di Girolamo
“Yes he shouted, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, your wife wouldn’t like it.”
“I see. Did those words mean anything special do you think? Why did he say his wife would not like it?”
“I think he had something on her, that, you know, he could use as a lever to shut Nigel up.”
“Was he blackmailing her?”
“No, I don’t think so, but it certainly sounded to me as though he could do if he wanted to.”
“You tried to blackmail Nigel yourself I believe.”
“I was going to shop him, I just wanted to make him suffer first for what he’d done to Ettore. Anyway, I needed the money then.” He refused to meet Di Girolamo’s eyes and said nothing more.
“I understand. Carry on, Marco. I want you to think very carefully about everything you saw and heard from this point on. Close your eyes and try to tell me everything in sequence.”
“Nigel came into the house, and I scuttled under the bed. I thought he was coming to get me, and he’s a big bloke. He frightens the life out of me, but he stayed downstairs. I went to the top of the stairs and I heard the faucet running in the kitchen. Then I heard more noise outside so I ran and looked out of the window again and saw Ettore lying on the ground, and there was a fat, little man cleaning the shovel with something. He ran off when he saw Nigel coming back. Then Nigel pulled Ettore into the water. That’s all.”
“So Nigel must have been waiting for the ‘fat little man’ to finish and go so that he could get rid of Ettore for good. How long after he ran off, did Nigel come out?”
“Almost immediately, I remember thinking that was quick. He just appeared. It all happened very fast you know.” He frowned concentrating. “Maybe the fat guy ran off because he had seen Nigel.”
“So, we have Ettore at the pool being swiped with a shovel and Nigel in the house with the tap running – right? Then the little man runs off and Nigel rushes up to the pool and pulls Ettore to the edge and tips him in. Is that right.”
“Yes.”
“Do you know who the ‘fat little man’ was? You said the first time that he was dressed in black.”
“Well, if he wasn’t dressed in black, it was another very dark colour. I didn’t recognise him. Do you know who he was?”
“Yes. Anyway, please go on.”
“Well then Nigel ran back to the car and drove off.”
“Did he have some documents in his hand when he went to the pool the second time?”
“No.”
“Now think hard, did you see him stop to pick up any documents on his way back to the car.”
“No. Perhaps he already put them in the car.”
“No matter. What I am trying to get clear, is the timing here.”
It was the timing that was worrying him, it wasn’t right. He asked the last question, “Are you quite certain that the person you saw was Nigel Proctor?
“Oh yes. Quite certain.”
“It couldn’t have been the German?”
“No way. That fat slob was so drunk he was falling about all over the place, Besides he’s different, I mean he’s enormous, you’d recognise him anywhere.”
“How well could you see from the house?”
“Pretty well. The pool is just below the house and there was a full moon that night.”
“Marco, did you go down to the pool, afterwards, to try to get Ettore out of the water?”
“No. I knew he must be dead, and I was frightened. I ran away and left him there.” His eyes filled with tears.
“It’s not your fault.”
“I can’t even swim, you know.”
“It wouldn’t have helped much, even if you could.”
“I suppose not.” He sighed. “I want him to be punished for what he did.”
“Good. Well, we’ll get this typed up and you can sign it. You realise you are a very important witness.” He smiled at the boy, patted him on the hand and added, “Get well soon.”
In the car on the way back he worried over the timing. It had all happened too fast by his reckoning, but maybe the boy’s perception of time was incorrect. He had been quite certain as to the identity of the murderer, and that was the important thing.
CHAPTER FORTY TWO
“I want Fritzy here as soon as possible,” barked Di Girolamo as he walked towards his office, “and as soon as possible, which probably won’t be till later this evening, I want Robin Pierce.”
He opened the folder and reread several of the statements, very carefully, and began cursing under his breath. He opened the door to the office in the next room and shouted through, “And Roberto, bring up Salvatore immediately!”
“Yes sir.” He jumped to his feet and went to close the door.
“What’s got into him? He rushed in here like a whirlwind, and now he wants to see them all again?” he grumbled to a colleague.
Five minutes later Salvatore sat in front of Di Girolamo. “What’s up chief?” asked the little Sicilian.
“I want to go over your statement with you.” He paused and asked, “Did you see the German known as Fritzy at any time that evening?”
“Well I saw him when everybody else did, drinking in the bar and shouting about Ettore. Not after that.”
“You never saw him at any time at the Villa Rosa that evening?”
“No.”
“Are you quite sure that it was Nigel Proctor you saw coming towards the pool as you left?
“No, I said so in my statement. I think it was him, but I won’t swear to it.”
“Could it have been the German?”
“No way. That guy is like a mountain. I’d recognise him anywhere.”
“Please think very carefully, close your eyes and try to
visualise the scene. What made you think it might not be Nigel?” The little man sat quietly and remembered that night. It had been dark, but there was certainly enough moonlight to see by. He was cleaning the shovel and he looked up as he put the shovel down on the ground. He saw a dark figure separate itself from the house, or was it the house? Perhaps it was the bushes? No matter, the person had walked lightly towards the steps and turned sideways to step down the first one, and he had fled. He had had enough that night.
“It was the way he walked.”
“It wasn’t the way he usually walked?”
“Well it wouldn’t be, I mean he was tip-toeing quietly. He thought I hadn’t seen him.”
“Tell me how, no, show me how he walked.”
The little man tiptoed across the floor almost mincing, and then he turned, and said “Like this, and then he turned sideways to take the first step.”
“He turned sideways.”
“Well it was dark. It’s safer that way, I suppose.
“I see. But something about the way he walked made you think it might not be him.”
“Yes.”
“Alright, well what made you think it might be him? Think carefully and visualise the scene again.”
“He was tall and the right build. He was wearing a dark suit. I couldn’t see his face you know, but, well, it had to be him. I won’t swear to it, as I said, but I’m pretty certain.”
“Thank-you. That’s all for now.” He opened the door and called, “I’ve finished here. Take him down.”
“You will remember that I’ve given full co-operation.”
“How could I forget? Oh and by the way, your wife isn’t pregnant. My condolences.”
“Fritzy, I mean Herman Ganz, is here sir.”
“Send him in.”
“Good afternoon, Maresciallo.” The German lumbered in sweating profusely.
“I am not a Maresciallo. Sit down. You lied to me. Roberto come and tape this.”
“Yes sir.” He scuttled into place and turned on the tape-recorder.
“Did you go to the Villa Rosa on the night between 8th and 9th of July? Answer truthfully this time. Remember I have evidence that you lied in your previous statement.”
“Yes.” The German sighed disconsolately.
“Ah! Now tell me what you did there and what you saw, Take your time, think carefully and answer truthfully.”
“I can’t remember much, I haff a lot to drink, but this you know. I haff seen Ettore with that kid from the bar und so I followed the car, but it took me a long time, as it vas I that vas falling down and about. I remember I get to the Villa and I am creeping through the garden, but I haff fallen down all the steps to the swimming pool and knock over all the chairs, I think. Anyway it must haff made much noise because suddenly there vas Ettore and he kicked me up the arse, the behind, jah? It was so humiliating, because I cannot even stand up and run away. I haff to crawl away on all fours, like a dog. Now that is really my last clear memory, for then I haff fallen asleep behind the hut. I did hear the thuds, and bangs and the voices, but it is all so very far away, you know, like in a dream. I keep being awakened up by all these disturbances. I remember a voice was shouting about to tell someone’s wife, but I do not really remember anything so clearly.” His thick German accent made his tale strangely sad.
“I want you to try harder, to remember anything you heard. Although you may have dozed on and off, you were there when the murder took place. Did you for example hear the splash as the body hit the water? Did you hear footsteps? Did you see anyone?”
“I am behind the little hut, so I can see nothing. I hear things, but I haff not really remembered much.” He sat and thought.
“I remember a voice. It says a bad vord. I don’t remember so vell. I think it vas perhaps a ‘cazzo’ vord. Maybe ‘testa di cazzo’. I don’t know vhen this was though. I know I haff heard the splash because I remember I am thinking it is a funny time to go for a swim and it was cold too.”
“No footsteps?”
“Vell all the people that vas running and shouting, clumping about and then the tic- tac, tic-tac, tic-tac, so fast. I don’t know vhen it all is, though. The sequence, I don’t know it. I vake up in the early morning. Ach it is so cold and then somehow I go home, but I do not see the body. I see nothing. There vas nobody there. They haff all gone in the car. I hear the doors slamming and the car drive off so I see no man. They haff all gone. Jah!”
“The car door, or doors.”
“They are the doors, bam, bam, first one then another one, jah, more than one.”
Di Girolamo unlocked the desk drawer and pulled out the German passport, “You are free to leave the country, you may be called to give evidence, though quite frankly the testimony of a drunk is not likely to stand up in court. Wait until Roberto gives you this new statement to sign and then you are free to leave.”
He left the building. It was early evening; he should eat now, as he wanted to see Robin Pierce later. He used his cell phone, “Hilary, meet me in ten minutes time where we ate yesterday?”
“I’ll be there,”
She arrived, as he was looking at the menu.
“I don’t have a lot of time, I’m interviewing someone later, but I must eat, and so must you, so here we are.”
“The case is still open?”
“Yes and no. Let’s just say I must be sure. Technically the case is closed, but this is just me wanting to dot all the i s. I have this niggling feeling that I might have missed or forgotten, something.”
“I see. Well let’s order quickly and then you can get back, I’ll have tagliatelle all’uovo con salsa di gamberetti and panna, you?”
“Oh I’ll have the same. I’m not really hungry, but if I don’t eat, my brain stops working.”
“Well that would be tragic, especially now.” She smiled at him. “Take my advice let’s talk about anything you like, but not the case. Relax and forget it, then when you least expect it, you’ll find that the elusive something will come to you. That’s what I do when I’m trying to remember something, and it works.”
At the end of the meal they separated, Hilary was going to play cards with Ben, Terry and John.
“I’ll be back at midnight, but I think Amanda will too, unless she phones and says she staying out again.”
“I’ll phone you.”
He walked away, immediately lost in thought. He was hoping that Robin would clear the way for him; her testimony to date had been very sparse. He should have called her again earlier. To do so now, when Nigel had been arrested, might not be so useful as she was bound to be resentful, angry, aggressive, and possibly taciturn. He felt he had already made too many errors in this investigation. He strode through the corridor towards his office. It was half past eight. Robin should surely be back by now. “Roberto, has Robin Pierce come back yet?”
“No sir.”
“I want a car there at her house, and she’s to be brought in as soon as she arrives.”
He opened the case file again, going methodically over each statement. He reread the letters and looked at the photos and then, quite suddenly, he knew. How stupid he had been. It was clear as daylight. He smiled to himself, and murmured, “Before I go to bed tonight, I will have remedied all my errors.”
It was getting late, nearly ten. She must have stopped to eat. There was a knock on the door,
“Avanti”
“Sir, Robin Pierce is here.” He ushered her in. She looked tired. Her dark blue trouser suit looked crumpled, her hair was drawn back from her face, rather severely, her makeup applied with a lighter hand today. She looked her age. She folded up her long legs as she sat down gracefully. Placing her hands on the desk in front of her she said, “I am exhausted. I was woken at the crack of dawn by your men, and I see I am going to finish this dreadful day in your company. You’ve arrested Nigel, what more do you want?” She slumped back in the chair her hands on her lap.
“I am taping this interview,” he nodded to
his subordinate, who started up the tape and repeated the usual formula.
“On the night between the 8th and 9th of July 1998, did you return to the Villa Rosa with Nigel Proctor to collect some forgotten documents?”
“Of course I did.”
“What did you do when Nigel left the car to go into the house?”
“I waited for him, of course.”
“But he was away quite some time?”
“Was he? I was reading a magazine and didn’t notice.”
“Didn’t you hear any noises while you were sitting there?”
“No, I was listening to the radio.”
“Do you know what Nigel did while he was away from the car?”
“He collected the documents.”
“Come on Robin, we know that he disturbed Ettore Fagiolo. He has admitted that much, himself.”
“Alright, he told me afterwards that he found Ettore in the house, and he sent him packing. It got a bit physical. Ettore hit him and Nigel had a nose bleed, but he didn’t kill him.”
“Yes, we know that he had a fight with him. I have two witnesses to this fact. Would you like to hear what they have to say.”
He signalled to Roberto who played the two tapes, first Marco, then Salvatore. He translated where she did not understand.
“Nigel has also signed a statement admitting the same facts, with the exception of the homicide.”
“Nigel wouldn’t hurt a fly. It’s all hot air with him. You don’t know him.”
“Convince me that he didn’t do it. One witness saw him pull the body to the pool and tip it in, the other saw him approach the pool. You see I have no alternative but to believe he did it.”
“They’re lying.”
“No.”
“It was that Marco. Since he’s admitted he was there, I don’t see why you don’t think it was him. He must have seen Ettore and Nigel fighting and when Nigel left, he killed Ettore.”
“Why should he?”
“How should I know? Maybe Ettore had a new boy, or perhaps he was cutting off the supply of drugs. Drug addicts will do anything when they have a need.”
“I agree, but they don’t usually kill their supplier. I’m sorry, but the facts are clear. Nigel killed Ettore.”
The Tuscan Mystery Trilogy Page 22
