Broken Chord

by Margaret Moore

  “She didn’t have any reason to be jealous. I knew that when she’d calmed down she’d realise she’d got nothing to worry about.”

  “I think you’ll agree with me, Signor della Rocca, that something in particular must have sparked off this row. It didn’t just suddenly occur to her in the middle of the afternoon that you might fancy someone younger.”

  “Actually, I was very surprised myself. I can only presume that someone said something to her, to set her off like that. It was a bolt out of the blue.”

  “Had she been out?”

  “I think so, but only on the estate, as far as I know. She mentioned she might speak to the Rossi Family, despite her lawyer’s advice.”

  “Who are the Rossi family?”

  “The dreadful tenants. Ursula’s been trying to get them out of the farmhouse for ages. That’s right, I think she went to offer them some ludicrously enormous sum of money to leave the house. We discussed it the day before and I told her she was mad to even think of it. From what I understand, they aren’t the kind of people she could handle, whatever she thought.”

  “So it isn’t likely that they told her something about you?”

  “Hardly. I can’t imagine her having a chat about me with them. She’d never actually even met them before, apart from the old man. She told me he’s more or less senile. She had a lot of trouble with him about her aunt’s cats. It was quite unpleasant actually. You see she inherited them with the house and had to have them put down. The old man was furious at the time, but really Ursula had no choice; it was the only sensible thing to do. They were riddled with parasites for one thing and breeding indiscriminately, you know the sort of thing I mean. God knows what diseases they were carrying. The whole situation was quite unhygienic. Anyway, after that she and the Rossi family only communicated through her lawyer, so no, I hardly think they’d have had a conversation about me, besides I don’t know them myself. Perhaps she met someone else when she was out, someone who told her lies about me.”

  “How furious was the old man about the cats?”

  “Enough to want to kill her? Well, I rather think he’d have done it at the time. It was over a year ago.”

  “Let’s go back to you. Did she mention a specific person of whom she was jealous, I mean, did she accuse you of having a relationship with someone in particular?”

  “I really can’t remember, certainly not a relationship, a flirtation I think it was. It was all so ridiculous. I mean I’m monogamous by nature. I told you I put the whole thing down to prenuptial nerves.” Guido shifted uneasily on his chair.

  “Were you having an affair with someone else?”

  “No!”

  “Do you have your mobile with you?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Could you give it to me please?”

  “Why?”

  “Because, Signor della Rocca, we have examined Ursula’s mobile and it seems she phoned you on the night she was killed.”

  Guido looked disconcerted and blustered, “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

  “Your phone please.”

  Guido pulled it out of his pocket and handed it over. He watched tensely while Dragonetti clicked quickly through it. “Yep, she phoned you at one a.m. What did she say?”

  “Nothing. I answered the phone and she said nothing.”

  “Oh come on. Did she say she wanted you to go to the villa?”

  “No. She didn’t speak at all. I tried ringing back but she didn’t answer. If you check you’ll see that’s true.”

  “Very strange.”

  “I agree.” He sounded almost relieved. Dragonetti looked sharply at him and checked there were no messages. What was he missing on the mobile? He handed the phone to Bruno who began going methodically through it.

  “So what did you do after you received this silent phone call?”

  “Nothing.” Guido looked uncomfortable. “I wasn’t sure what to do especially when she didn’t answer my call.”

  “So you didn’t decide to go and see her to sort things out?”

  “No. I was still angry at her accusations. I slept on it and then sent her three dozen red roses in the morning with a note which I’m sure you read.”

  “Did you leave the hotel at any time during the night?”

  “No.”

  “So you stayed in your hotel bedroom until my officers came to get you in the morning.”

  “Yes, that is, no. I went out early for the flowers. I wanted to choose them and write the note. Then I went back to the hotel for breakfast. I was sure she would phone me after she’d received them.”

  “Alright, you can go, for now. My colleague will accompany you to make a written statement.”

  Bruno, who had been lounging elegantly against the wall, shifted his body and moved to the door. He gave Guido his phone back. When they’d gone out, Dragonetti thought about what seemed to have been Ursula’s last communication. How soon after that had she died? The autopsy should be under way by now but the time of death was never going to be precise. Had she been in bed or pacing about the room when she made this last call to her lover? They only had Guido’s word for it that she hadn’t spoken, hadn’t begged him to come to her or, more likely, told him once again what a shit he was. She must have been very upset to call him at that time and then refuse to pick up the phone when he called her back. No, there’d been no mild flirtation. Guido must have been screwing around or maybe even having a serious affair with someone, and some kind person had told the bride-to-be, someone who wanted the marriage not to take place? Who stood to lose by this marriage? Well, her children, of course, though probably very little. Even so the forthcoming marriage wouldn’t have been welcomed by them. Guido was only a few years older than Tebaldo. If any of her children had wanted to stop the marriage then surely they’d have killed Guido, not their mother. No, if one of them had killed her, he was sure it hadn’t been for that reason. Of course if Guido had another woman, she might have been desperate enough to decide to eliminate the competition. He jotted down a note.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Tebaldo came in next with Bruno. He looked apologetically at Dragonetti. “I hope you don’t mind me coming in first. I explained to your colleague that my wife is with the children and can’t come here until I get back, and time-wise this works out best.”

  “That’s fine. Please sit down.” Dragonetti observed him carefully. He looked terrible. He had mauve circles under his eyes and was pale under his tan. He was wearing a short-sleeved pale green linen shirt over jeans and carried a dark blue linen jacket over his arm.

  Tebaldo sank onto the chair and closed his eyes briefly and shivered. It was already hot outside, but in the office the air conditioning was working extremely efficiently. The contrast was so strong that it felt like walking into a cold cell. Teo wasn’t looking forward to discussing his mother’s murder and was worried about his stomach which always let him down in times of acute stress. He held a large handkerchief in one hand in case his nausea took a turn for the worse and had taken an anti-emetic before coming out, which made him feel slightly drowsy, but which he hoped would keep the vomiting under control. He opened his eyes and saw that Dragonetti was staring at him. “Sorry, it’s the anti-emetic, it makes me sleepy, and I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  “I see. You don’t look very well.”

  “I’m not. I haven’t kept anything down since yesterday morning and I left this morning’s breakfast in the toilet bowl before coming here. I can’t get rid of the flashbacks. It’s terrible. Every time I close my eyes I see her body and even when I keep them open, it flashes into my brain, like some kind of horror movie.”

  “It must be very difficult for you.”

  “Quite frankly it was the most awful thing that I’ve ever seen. She was my mother and to see her like that…” He hastily put the handkerchief to his mouth and swallowed a few times. “I’m sorry, I can’t talk much about it without this happening.”
>
  “I don’t want to upset you so I’ll be as quick as possible.”

  “Thank you. I would appreciate it.” He draped his jacket around his shoulders. Dragonetti could see that he had goose flesh on his arms.

  “We didn’t talk much yesterday, but you were one of the first on the scene. What was your immediate reaction when you realised your mother was dead?”

  “I… I suppose I thought that Guido had come back and killed her, but at the same time I know he can’t have done it. He faints at the sight of blood.”

  “Did you hear the argument between your mother and Guido della Rocca?”

  “Yes, I did, everyone did. They were screaming like two fish wives.”

  “Did you hear what they were saying?”

  “No. It was just a lot of noise. I’d been out and came in when it was almost over. None of us could hear what they were saying. It was at tea time and the children were there, you understand. Then we heard Guido slam the bedroom door and rush down the stairs and out of the house. He got into his car and drove off. Marta went up to my mother to see if she was alright and afterwards said she’d given her an injection for her migraine.”

  “How did you feel about your mother marrying Guido?”

  “I think you can imagine. I wasn’t pleased. No one was. Well, you’ve seen him. As far as I can see he can have had only one reason for marrying my mother. She was much older than him.”

  “Money.”

  Teo shrugged, “What else.”

  “And why do you think she wanted to marry him?”

  “I suppose because she wanted a handsome younger man to escort her everywhere. He has excellent taste. He helped her do up the villa. It had been left to fall to pieces by my mother’s aunt who was elderly and set in her ways. It was actually falling about round her ears when she died. Guido was useful and, of course, there was sex. My mother can’t seem to live without a man. She’s had a succession of them, including three husbands.”

  “Why did she choose to use your father’s surname?”

  “He’s an aristocrat. After Marianna’s father, Ghiberti, died, she reverted to using my father’s name.”

  “But Ghiberti was an aristocrat too.”

  “Yes, I know but a very minor one compared to my father, whose name is very well-known. My mother was a dreadful snob, which makes it all the more inexplicable why she should marry Guido. He might have been alright as a toy boy, but as a husband!”

  “Perhaps she loved him.”

  “Perhaps she did. I don’t pretend to know anything about my mother’s feelings. She made an art out of never showing them.”

  “She wasn’t an affectionate mother?”

  “No. My childhood wasn’t particularly happy. I was dragged all over Europe with a succession of nannies and step-fathers. My mother travelled a lot and usually left her children at home, wherever that was. I suppose I should be grateful. I can speak three languages fluently, apart from Italian.”

  “I’ve looked into your police record. You have an arrest for possession of drugs.”

  “Yes, when I was younger, I was very stupid.”

  “Do you still use drugs?”

  “Good God no! I’m a married man with two small children. That was all years ago.”

  “Did you kill your mother?”

  “No!”

  “Did you leave your room at any time during the night?”

  Dragonetti thought he perceived a fraction of a second’s hesitation, before Tebaldo replied firmly. “No.”

  “Did your wife?”

  “I’m sure she didn’t. If she did, I didn’t hear her.”

  “Did you hear any noise at all, at any time during the night?”

  “No.”

  “You didn’t hear Lapo come in?”

  Tebaldo shifted in his chair. “No.”

  “Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to kill your mother?”

  “Well, as I said, theoretically Guido could have done it if she had seriously thrown him out. He might have been so enraged that he came back and… but really I can’t really see him doing that so, no, I haven’t got a clue. Let’s just say I’d like it to have been Guido, but I don’t think it was.”

  “When did you first learn that your mother was dead?”

  “When I was going down to breakfast. Her bedroom door was open. I’ve already told you this so I’d rather not go over it again.” He put the handkerchief to his mouth.

  “Thank you. I think that’ll be all for now. You can go now but I’ll probably need to see you again.”

  “Of course. I think Marta would rather like to come in next. She wants to get back because of doing the lunch. I could wait for her and take her back with me.”

  “Alright. Tell her to wait until we call her in.”

  As soon as the door had closed behind him, Bruno said excitedly, “Did you see it too? He left the bedroom during the night.”

  “I agree, but that doesn’t mean he went off and killed his mother.”

  “No, but he went somewhere. It should be interesting to see whether his wife knows something.”

  “Well, you’ll have to wait, she’ll be the last one we see this morning. You heard, she has to wait for her husband to get home before she can come. Anything of interest on Guido’s mobile phone?”

  “No, very few calls, mostly to Ursula and no other calls or messages that day. If he’s having another affair there’s no sign of it there. Perhaps he uses another phone.”

  “Perhaps, let’s find out. Go and call the faithful Marta.” He sighed and popped another mint into his mouth. He was already feeling quite virtuous after not smoking for a half a morning.

  Marta came in looking so fragile that Drago got out of his chair and came round his desk to greet her. “Signora, are you ill?”

  “I hardly slept last night.”

  “Have you eaten?”

  “No. I can’t.” She gave him an anguished look.

  “Did you eat at all yesterday?”

  “Not really. Somehow the food just won’t go down.”

  “Please sit down. Can I have a coffee or something to eat brought in for you? We usually have a brioche round about now.”

  “You’re very kind.”

  Drago nodded at Bruno who shot out of the room to order something to eat.

  “This must have been the most terrible shock for you.”

  “It has been. Madam dying is bad enough, but in that way…” Her eyes looked at him as though hoping he would tell her it wasn’t really true.

  “Would it help if I were to say that the mu… that what was done, was done when she was already dead? She didn’t suffer.” That much the pathologist had told him after the first cursory examination of the body.

  “Thank God for that. Yes, that does help. I couldn’t bear to think she’d been tortured.” She sighed and patted a handkerchief to her eyes which were brimming with tears. “She wasn’t a wicked person you know.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “She didn’t deserve to die like that.”

  “No one deserves to die like that.”

  “We’ve been with her all these years, ever since Teo was a little boy. I don’t know what will happen now.” Then Drago understood that a part of her anguish was due to this terrible earthquake in what had been, up till now, a settled life.

  “Piero says we can retire now, start a new life, but I don’t want a new life. I want the one I had, and how can I leave poor Lapo.” She was weeping openly now. Drago patted her shoulder awkwardly. He was grateful when Bruno came back with a tray of steaming cappuccinos and a plate of brioches.

  “Here Signora, you must have something, I insist.”

  “You’re so very kind.” She dried her eyes and accepted the coffee. She sipped at the hot drink and tentatively nibbled at the soft pastry.

  With some encouragement she followed their example and finished her coffee and the pastry. With a sigh of relief as though he had been feeding a difficult child an
d got that chore over and done with, Drago returned to his chair and began to ask her about that terrible night.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Guido left the building and stood outside on the hot pavement wondering what to do next. He was surprised there were so few reporters hanging about because when he’d left the villa the previous day there had been a crowd. However, the Procura, set on the main road facing the ancient walls of Lucca did not lend itself to interviews. He guessed they’d all be waiting back at the villa, with their microphones and cameras. His hand automatically brushed non-existent fluff from his jacket. He adjusted his dark glasses and was secure in the knowledge that he was looking very good. He assumed a tragic air as a couple of flashes went off, put out a hand to ward off a microphone and then ambled slowly away before turning down a side road, where he increased his pace, quite anxious to get back to his hotel which he now thought of as a safe house. With a horrible jolt he recognised the young man who was leaning against the wall as though waiting for him. He felt his bowels turn to water but affecting a nonchalance that he was far from feeling, he briskly crossed the road pretending he hadn’t seen the boy. After about twenty metres when he had convinced himself that this was either a coincidence or perhaps hadn’t been the actual boy, he felt a hand touch his arm and a voice said softly, “Not so fast, Guido. Where are you running off to?”

  “Good God!” he cried. “Where did you spring from?”

  “Come off it. You saw me. I was waiting for you.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “Well, not for more of what you had last time. No, I’ve got something else to talk to you about and believe me it’s important.”

  Guido said, “Well, I can’t think what it can be, but I expect you’ll tell me when you’re ready, unless you want to explain why you decided to tell Ursula about our, shall we call it, mutual interest.”

  “Shall we go and have a coffee and a chat?”

  “I don’t suppose I’ve got much choice, have I?”

  “Dead right you haven’t. Dead being the operative word.”

  A much more composed Marta had answered all the questions that Drago had asked her, without giving any new information. She confirmed that the only thing she heard that night, was Lapo coming in at four in the morning. They let her go home because her thoughts were turning insistently towards lunch.