Broken Chord

by Margaret Moore

  Guido’s jaw dropped open.

  “I won’t breathe a word but you’ll have to make it worth my while.”

  “That’s blackmail!”

  “Call it what you like. I call it payment for services rendered. That’s something you know a lot about.”

  “How much?”

  When Claudio named the sum, Guido’s jaw dropped even further.

  “You’ve got to be joking.”

  “No, I’m dead serious, and dead is the key word here, I think you’ll agree.”

  “Look Claudio, I can’t possibly pay that amount.”

  “I know you’re not quite as flush as you expected to be but you can sell something and get me the cash. I’ll give you two days. Cough up or I’ll have to do my duty as a good citizen and tell the police what I saw.”

  “They’d never believe you. It’s your word against mine.”

  “Why should I tell a lie? I’ve got nothing to gain by lying, unlike you.” His hands spread out as though to emphasise his innocence.

  “But I didn’t do anything, you must know that,” Guido protested.

  “Don’t tell that to me. It’s the cops you’ve got to convince.”

  Guido pushed his chair back and stood up.

  “Don’t forget to pay for the coffee.”

  Guido put his hand in his pocket and pulled out some coins. He threw them on the table.

  “Very kind. I’ll see you here the day after tomorrow at this time. You can offer me a coffee again if you like and bring a nice fat bulging envelope for me. Got it?”

  Guido turned away from him and marched out of the bar. He was in a terrible situation. Claudio obviously knew something, but if he paid him now it would never end. He’d be held to ransom for the rest of his life. On the other hand, how could he risk Claudio telling what he knew? Who would the police believe? From what he could see, they’d already fingered him as a prime suspect so it would be foolish to take any risks, but what could he do about Claudio? He had a vision of being sucked dry and left with nothing.

  Lapo was furious. He had never felt so humiliated. He’d seen himself mirrored in the eyes of that policeman, who thought he was only half a man. He’d seen the man’s pity for him. His breathing became so laboured that he had to sit down in a corridor and use his bronchodilator. God, how he hated that supercilious bastard. What was he anyway, just a civil servant, a nobody. He tried to slow his breathing, calm the rage that was swelling in his chest, tightening it and making respiration difficult. There was only one antidote for this and he would make use of it as soon as possible. He’d made his statement in a state of suspended animation but as soon as he was free to go, the anger had welled up in him crippling him again. He sat quietly for another ten minutes and then walked slowly out of the building. Across the road were the famous tree lined walls of Lucca. Fields of lush grass surrounded them, intersected by little pathways that led through the ramparts and into town. For a moment he was tempted to cross the road and enter. Seeing him stand there a journalist detached himself from the group and came towards him but after Lapo shot him a terrifying glance, changed his mind and moved away again.

  He’d left the car in a car park in one of the streets behind the Procura building and decided to go and have a drink before going home, to take the edge off his anger. As he neared a bar he saw Guido come out and hurry away. A few minutes later Claudio Rossi came out and crossed the road to where he had parked his monstrous motorbike. Lapo asked himself whether this was mere coincidence and decided that it was definitely not, and then asked himself what it was all about. He’d dearly love to know. He went into the bar, had a coffee and read the paper. His mother’s death was prominent on the front page. Someone had found an old photo of her when she was years younger, smiling, and given it to the press. He remembered her like that, when he was a child. He felt a stirring of emotion and a lump in his throat. He clamped it down. Lapo never cried, ever. He hadn’t done since childhood when he’d learnt to be strong and to give as good as he got. Kids were cruel, but no one was as cruel as Lapo and they soon learned that.

  When he came out of the bar he saw his sister floating along the road like some fairy princess. He went towards her.

  “Oh Lapo, I thought you’d left ages ago.”

  “No, I’m still around. Do you need a lift?”

  “Thanks. I was going to take the bus. I’m going to the hospital.”

  “Ah, to see your future husband. Lucky man.”

  “That’s right.” She looked at him warily. He sounded most peculiar.

  “OK, I’ll take you. I haven’t got anything better to do.”

  He could hardly wait to get her in the car and drive away to some dark corner of an underground car park where he would hurt her, make her suffer, like he suffered. He couldn’t help it. He had to do it. Besides, she deserved it. It was time she got off her rosy cloud and faced the harsh realities of life.

  Isabella arrived at the car park just as Lapo and Marianna pulled away. She actually parked in their slot. Lapo hadn’t seen her. He had a demonic look on his face, totally concentrated on himself as usual. She was terrified of him. Teo had told her some alarming stories about Lapo; that was in the days when he used to actually talk to her. She always kept out of his way.

  Opening the door let in a blast of hot smelly air, thick with pollution. She got out into the heat. How was it that Marianna always looked cool and elegant, while she felt sweaty and uncomfortable straight away? It had to be the excess weight. Well, as soon as they got away from here she was going on a diet and to the gym every morning for an hour. Not that that would bring Teo back to her, but at least she’d feel better. She couldn’t feel much worse than she did now.

  When she entered the cool building she was taken straight up to Dragonetti’s office. He had a handsome young man with him who he introduced as his colleague. Isabella felt even fatter and lumpier when faced with this elegant person. It had been a long time since a man had looked at her with appreciation and this one was no exception. Dragonetti seemed kind, as he had done at the house. She’d been a fool to tell him she disliked her mother-in-law but she’d got nothing to fear by telling the truth, well, mostly the truth. He didn’t have to know everything. She felt terribly tense, but took a deep breath and sat down facing him.

  “Sorry to drag you away from the children. I know it must be very difficult for you at the moment.”

  “Well, you know, we let the au pair go off on holiday and now in this situation, you’re right, it is difficult. Teo’s… not well. He has a very delicate stomach.”

  “Yes. He told me he’d taken an anti-emetic this morning.”

  “Mmm. It’s psychosomatic. There’s nothing actually wrong with his stomach. It’s his nerves. This… I mean, his mother’s death, seeing the body like that, well he can’t take that sort of thing. His brother’s in a bad way, too. He’s wheezing badly, and the only one who seems calm is Marianna, but nothing ever seems to upset her.”

  “You think so?”

  “Well, obviously I’m not saying she’s indifferent to her mother’s death but, well, she’s not shed a tear.”

  “Nor have you.”

  “Ursula wasn’t my mother.”

  “Quite. Look, I know we spoke yesterday, but I wondered whether after twenty-four hours you’ve remembered anything else. People sometimes do, you know, when they’ve calmed down. It’s very difficult to think clearly in the heat of the moment.”

  “I don’t think so. I mean I’ve told you everything.” She sat on her hands to stop them shaking.

  “Just to recap, you went to bed and neither saw nor heard anyone, apart from Lapo who came in rather noisily at four, which was when you got up to go to the bathroom. Correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And your husband was in bed all night too?”

  “Yes, to the best of my knowledge.”

  “You’re quite sure you don’t want to change any part of your statement?”

  “No.
”

  “Yesterday you said you thought Guido might have killed Ursula, do you still think that?”

  “No, I just said it because they’d had a row, and well, I was shocked, but I’ve changed my mind. Guido can’t stand the sight of blood and I understand from my husband there was quite a lot of blood.”

  “Yes, there was. Ursula had been stabbed several times and disfigured.”

  “I can’t honestly see Guido doing that. I don’t like him and I was horrified to think that Ursula was going to marry him but I won’t say that I think he did it because I don’t really. Guido’s very fastidious. I don’t think he’d dirty his hands. If he were going to kill someone, he would probably poison them.”

  “Now that you’ve had time to think, do you have any more ideas about who could have killed Ursula?”

  “No. I’ve thought about it quite a lot, I’m sure we all have, and the more I think about it, the less likely it seems that one of the family did it. It has to have been someone from outside. Piero said there had been some anonymous letters. Perhaps that’s who did it, the madman who wrote the letters. It couldn’t have been anyone who knew her well. No one would do that to her unless they were quite mad.”

  “Thank you Signora von Bachmann. You have been very helpful. If you would like to follow my colleague he will take you to the officer who will take down your statement. A simple statement about your whereabouts that night will be sufficient.”

  Isabella gave a sigh of relief. That had gone quite well and apart from one small thing she’d told the truth. The omission was something that had nothing to do with the murder and she’d no intention of telling the police about her private life. There were always leaks during investigations and all she needed now was to see her family all over the papers with all the juicy details there for everyone to read. No way.

  *

  Marianna was weeping quietly, hunched in the corner of the car. Lapo got out of the car and lit up a cigarette. He wasn’t allowed to smoke because of his asthma but he needed to. He peered into the car. She was still weeping, the stupid cow. He shouldn’t have done it, after all she was his half-sister, but he had to hurt her and he knew how to.

  “Marianna.”

  “She looked up at him with those dead eyes of hers. “What.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t believe it. You’ve actually said you’re sorry.”

  “I went too far.”

  “Yes you did. This time Lapo you went way too far. Take me home please. I need a bath.”

  “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

  “No. You know I never do.”

  “Good. Are you alright?”

  “I don’t know. Stop talking and take me home. I need to be alone.”

  He threw the cigarette away and got back into the car. Marianna didn’t speak again and when they got home she opened the car door and ran up to her room. Lapo banged his fist on the steering wheel. He was losing control. He was losing it. Piero, watching from the garden, observed the flash of red on Marianna’s pristine dress and closed his eyes as though in pain.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The autopsy had put the time of death between midnight and two a.m. Ursula’s last phone call to Guido had been made at one a.m. which narrowed the time down even further. The cause of death had been a wound to the chest which had perforated the aorta. The weapon had been a long, thin knife of extreme sharpness. All the other injuries had been inflicted after death.

  Fingerprints from all members of the family were found in the room, apart from Piero’s and Isabella’s. Piero would have had no motive for ever entering the room and Isabella had obviously never been invited into this inner sanctum. No blood had been detected on anyone’s clothes with the exception of traces on the soles of Tebaldo’s and Marta’s shoes.

  The police spent the afternoon going through Ursula’s bedroom yet again, taking particular care around the shutters that led on to the balcony. Outside, the area beneath the balcony, and the wisteria were examined again. Lapo, watching from the window, thought the police must be thinking that the killer came from outside the family. That was all to the good.

  Marianna had not come down to lunch. She hadn’t left her room since they got back. Today, the future groom would not be receiving a visit. Lapo knew he had done something appalling. He, who gave no importance to anything and never ever felt guilty or even concerned about his victims, now felt the stirrings of regret. He’d done it because he was so angry with everyone and in particular with Marianna. She must know why. That was why she would make no complaint about this.

  He thought she would have got herself together by supper time and manage to pretend it had never happened. That’s what she always did. She was very good at pretending, unlike himself. He always faced the truth. The truth was that he was a deformed freak and everyone pitied him and he was going to make everyone pay for it.

  Marianna was so stupid. She thought that if she pretended, it would make everything alright but it wouldn’t, it didn’t. No amount of make-believe could do away with facts. One fact was he had just horrendously abused his sister. He actually felt tears stinging his eyes. Was the poisonous dwarf a human being after all, he asked himself. What were these tears? Who were they for? Himself or Marianna, or both of them and what their life had been?

  Tebaldo came in with the children and Isabella followed a few minutes later. They’d been at the pool most of the afternoon to keep the children away from the police presence. Teo and Isabella had stopped arguing after Ursula’s murder. Lapo wondered if that was all it would take to set things right between them; the removal of the prime arch-enemy. Teo looked ghastly and Isabella had quite suddenly totally lost her enormous appetite. Lunch had been a sad affair. Looking at her now, her hair still damp from the pool, her face devoid of make-up, Lapo could see Isabella was still pretty. He was reminded of a time when she had been very slim and attractive, a time when Teo had loved her. Nevertheless, she seemed very concerned about Teo, so perhaps she still loved him despite everything. Lapo didn’t know what love was, he only knew rage, hatred and despair.

  “Did you have a nice time?” he asked the children.

  “I can swim a bit,” said Arabella proudly.

  “Me too, me too.”

  “Very good.”

  “What’s going on here?” asked Teo.

  “The balcony and the wisteria seem to be very interesting.”

  “Good, excellent.” Conversation was conditioned by the presence of the children.

  “Has Marianna gone out?” asked Isabella.

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  “Oh, I thought she’d be visiting the sick.”

  “The day is not yet over,” said Lapo cryptically.

  “Is she alright? I mean, she didn’t come down to lunch.”

  “As alright as the rest of us.”

  “Of course. Silly question. Come on girls, let’s get dressed and go for an ice-cream.”

  “I want a chocolate one.”

  “And me!”

  They went out, the children still chattering. They were small enough not to understand what was going on. Conversation between adults meant nothing to them. Lapo envied them their innocence.

  Bruno spent the afternoon going through Ursula’s room and her study but found nothing of interest. Jacopo Dragonetti had made a brief court appearance for a previous case and had then gone straight back to his office afterwards, where he’d re-read the autopsy report while he waited for Bruno. There’d been very little blood loss from the mutilations. This pointed towards some kind of frenetic attack after death, when the heart had stopped beating, and perhaps not even immediately. This was unusual in that the first wound had been precise and lethal, so why the mutilations? If the attacker had come from outside, he’d come with the intention of killing her, not to steal anything, at least as far as they knew. The family had reported that nothing was missing. So the killer had come in, perhaps via the balcony, but it was never
open usually, so why that night? Had Ursula opened it for someone? If the killer had come in through the front door with a key, it had to have been a member of the household. Jacopo made a note to check on other key holders. There might be other keys. Perhaps the shutters had been opened afterwards, either as an escape route or to make it look as though someone had come in and gone out that way. Had Ursula been asleep when her killer entered the room? Was that the reason he’d been able to knife her quickly and precisely? She had definitely been killed on the bed, so it was probable that she was unaware of his presence, or, she was so comfortable with him she hadn’t bothered to move. Why had he vented his rage on her body? Perhaps he’d been looking for something and hadn’t found it. Dragonetti jotted down another note. Ursula could have been blackmailing someone, which would be surprising. She certainly didn’t need the money. Perhaps she liked power. Perhaps the faithful servants stayed with her, not out of loyalty but because she had a hold on them.

  Most importantly Dragonetti felt that the argument with Guido on the same day as her murder had not been a coincidence. According to everyone it had been an extraordinary event. Two extraordinary events within a few hours of each other couldn’t be a coincidence. So far, Guido’s alibi looked good. The night-porter at the hotel swore he hadn’t gone out but night porters sometimes fall asleep at their post. They often hold down day jobs as well. The hotel probably had closed circuit cameras outside; he would have them examined. If they could prove Guido had left the hotel then he was probably the assassin. He’d been thrown out and humiliated by Ursula. He had a key, he wanted revenge, he hated her, he killed her and then he mutilated her.

  Several times during this period alone Drago’s hand strayed to his jacket pocket and felt the comforting shape of the packet of cigarettes. He patted it now and chewed hard on the chewing gum.

  He picked up the phone, “Bring Guido della Rocca in, please, but before you bring him in I want all closed circuit camera data from the hotel, if there is any, for the night in question. Got it? Good.”