Broken Chord

by Margaret Moore

  The day dragged on without them making any appreciable headway. Guido had been brought back and had clammed up. He wanted a lawyer, and refused to say another word from the moment they told him that his absence from the hotel had been documented. Bruno wanted to arrest him but Dragonetti held off. He hadn’t finished with Ozzie yet.

  “Tomorrow is another day,” he remarked cryptically as he left.

  “Good night, Scarlett,” said Bruno with a grin.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The family spent the day in a kind of limbo. Marianna did not come down to lunch. Isabella knocked on her door and finally got her to agree to a snack in her room.

  “I’ll bring it up.”

  “Marta can do it.”

  “She’s got enough to do without bringing food up to you.”

  “Since when have you been so concerned about the servants? Don’t forget, you’re the one who wants me to eat. Don’t make it sound as though I’m the one wanting food in my room. I didn’t ask for anything and I’m not hungry.”

  “None of us are. This is the worst moment for you. I know you think life is terrible right now but we must pray that things get better. I feel sure they will.”

  “Isabella, I didn’t know this side of you. What are you, some kind of missionary? You’ll be telling me to trust in the Lord next.”

  “If I thought you’d listen, I might.”

  Marianna suddenly remembered Teo’s wedding in the cathedral, something which Isabella had insisted on. At the time she’d thought it was for show, now she wondered.

  “Well, Mother Theresa, if you want me to eat you can bring the food up and feel all virtuous and warm inside. I don’t care one way or the other.”

  Lapo watched Isabella load up the tray for his sister. “I don’t see why she can’t come down. Why are you pandering to her?”

  “Because she’s a child, because her mother has been brutally murdered, because she’s hardly eaten since then and because I hope she’ll eat if I take it up to her.”

  Lapo felt his jaw drop open.

  Teo weighed in with, “You’re right Isabella, we always forget how young Marianna is.”

  “I don’t believe it,” muttered Lapo, emptying his wine glass.

  A shame-faced Marianna took the tray from Isabella. “I’m sorry I was so rude and thank you. I’ll come down to eat this evening but at the moment I just want to be alone.”

  “I do understand.”

  At half-past three Marianna came down with the empty tray. She was dressed to go to the hospital, in white again, and phoned for a taxi.

  Isabella who was about to go up and wake the girls from their afternoon nap, paused and asked, “Marianna, this boy, your fiancé…?”

  “His name is Roberto, which is something no one ever seems able to remember. What about him?”

  “How is he?”

  “Fine. He’s going to be fine.” Marianna gave her a brittle smile. “I’ll be back for supper.”

  Marta was worried about Piero. While she was upset and fighting with terrible flashbacks, he seemed to be fighting with something else. As they sat in the gloomy kitchen after lunch, with the shutters closed against the heat, she asked him what was wrong.

  “Wrong, wrong! You know what’s wrong.”

  “No, I don’t mean that, I know you, there’s something else. Look at you.”

  “I’m worried.”

  “Yes, but what about?”

  “You’re not going to like it.”

  “Tell me!” she said urgently, grabbing hold of his arm.

  “Alright. I saw Lapo in the house at about half past twelve, maybe later, that night.”

  The colour drained from her face: “What,” she said in a weak voice. “No, he came back at four. I heard him.”

  “He went out but he came back before one and stayed for a while before going out again. Then he came back at four.”

  “Perhaps he forgot something and came back for it. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Maybe not, but he lied about it.”

  “I expect he forgot. It’s such a small thing.”

  Piero sighed. Until the murderer was caught he would have no peace.

  Marianna appeared at supper emanating serenity. Lapo could hardly believe that she appeared to hold no animosity towards him. He knew she was good at pretending but this went beyond anything he’d expected. She chattered with the children, and gave everyone a bulletin on Roberto which they all felt no need to comment on, with the exception of Isabella, who pressed her hand warmly and said, “I’m so glad for you.” After a meagre meal, she left the table announcing, “I’m off for an evening in front of the television.”

  After she’d gone, Isabella remarked, “I know she’s got this boyfriend to keep her going, but she’s unreal. I wonder how long she can hold up like this.”

  “It’s the way she copes,” said Lapo. “It’s how she’s always coped. We all had to find a way or we’d never have survived.”

  “Too true,” muttered Teo. “I nearly went under.”

  “That’s because your way of coping was flight.”

  Teo looked at him. “We all know how you cope.”

  He nodded at Isabella and they stood up, encouraging the children to move. Lapo had never seen them so united. He poured himself another drink and sat thinking. Suddenly, he remembered what he’d seen the previous day. Guido and Ozzie Rossi together in a bar. Why were they together? He revised his plans for the evening. Before going on the prowl, he was going to pay a little visit to his nearest neighbours and get the dirt on Guido, because without doubt there was dirt. That was the only thing that could link farmer-boy, Claudio ‘Ozzie’ Rossi to failed-would-be-aristocrat, Guido della Rocca. Considering that the Rossi farmhouse had been his mother’s last port of call before her row with Guido, there must be something to find out and, as Lapo always maintained, everyone had their price.

  Vanessa took the last appreciative spoonful of tiramisu, made to her mother’s recipe. “Oh God, that stuff is so sinful!”

  “That’s why you like it so much. It’s hard to be enthusiastic about grated carrots, for example.”

  “Oh, but I am, at the right moment.”

  “Which is never, in my book.”

  She laughed. “OK, for that you can make the coffee.”

  He pushed back his chair and sat looking at her for a moment. Her hair was loose and shone in the light. She was tanned and brim full of life.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  He got up and came round the table. He pulled her to her feet and kissed her.

  “That was nice. Need I remind you that I am free this evening, no concerts or operas to review.”

  “Wonderful, so we can end this fabulous meal in my favourite way.”

  “Only after coffee, otherwise I’ll fall asleep.”

  “Why so tired?”

  “I didn’t tell you, but I spent the day at the sea with Ilaria and Francesca. The sea always makes me feel sleepy.”

  “I thought you were looking exceptionally tanned. It suits you.”

  “I do love the sea.”

  “Well, we’ll have two weeks of it soon.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  “You’re alright about the girls?”

  “Of course. We get on very well.”

  “Good. It’s a lot to take on.”

  “What is?”

  “Me and my family.”

  “I think I can manage. Now, where were we?”

  Lapo left the house early and hung about at the end of the lane waiting for Claudio Rossi to come out. He was going to waylay him and pump him, buy his information and then throw him to the dogs. He heard the motor bike and moved to stand in the middle of the road, waving his arms. For one terrible moment he actually thought he was going to be run down, but at the last minute the boy swerved and braked. He ripped his helmet off and asked, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  “I want to talk to you
.”

  The boy stared at him, and then got off his bike. “Alright, talk.”

  “Tell me about Guido della Rocca.”

  “Who?”

  “Shall we stop playing games? I saw you with him in the bar near the Procura the other day.”

  “What about him?”

  “What have you got on him?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m willing to pay.”

  There was a tense silence, then, “How much?”

  “Depends how good the info is.”

  Claudio did a few calculations in his head. This would be a one-off payment but it would be up front. Besides he could take money from both of them. What a laugh!

  “A thou.”

  “You’re joking. It would have to be very good for that amount.”

  “It is. It’s the best.”

  “I’ll give you five hundred up front and the rest after you’ve told me.”

  “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “You don’t, but you’ll have to. How do I know I can trust you?”

  “If I make a deal, it’s a deal,” said Ozzie firmly.

  “Me too.” They stared at each other.

  “OK”

  Lapo fished out the roll of bank notes he’d prepared. He doubted that the info would be worth more. He handed it over and said, “Spit it out.”

  “Guido came back to the villa at about half past one on the night your mother was murdered, maybe a little earlier.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I saw him.”

  “How long did he stay?”

  “Not long. Bout ten minutes.”

  “What were you doing there?”

  “I was going home when I saw the car… he parked it just about here and went in on foot.”

  “How come he didn’t hear you?”

  “I’d slowed down to take the turn off and he was ahead of me, just parking. I braked and switched off the engine and watched. I couldn’t understand why he’d parked the car there. Anyway, he went off towards the house on foot. I parked the bike in the bushes and followed him. He let himself in with the key and came out about ten minutes later. He rushed to the car and drove off like a maniac.”

  “Good, excellent.”

  “So do I get the other five hundred?”

  “Not now, I haven’t got it with me. You’ll get it when they arrest Guido.”

  “Fuck me, you can’t mean I’ve got to go to the police and tell them. They’ll crucify me.”

  “It’s up to you. If you don’t, I will. I’ll give you till tomorrow evening. If you don’t go tomorrow, I’ll go the morning after. We can enjoy watching the police chasing their own tails for a day, but that’s it.”

  “If you tell them the day after tomorrow, they’ll want to know why you waited.”

  “I’ll say I only just found out.”

  “And what am I supposed to say?”

  “You can say you were frightened they’d suspect you. After all, what’s your word against the word of a gentleman like Guido.”

  The boy made a rude noise, “Gentleman, my arse.”

  “Yes, well I see we agree on the essentials. Thank you. I hope you’ll go and tell the police yourself, but that’s up to you. Obviously, if you do go, I also hope you’ll remember this conversation never took place, otherwise you won’t get another cent.”

  “Done.”

  The two men got into and onto their vehicles and drove off in opposite directions.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  July was always steaming hot. Now, as the month drew towards its close, the humidity became even more oppressive. Temperatures were well over 35°C in the shade during the afternoon, but the mornings were still pleasant.

  Marta opened the shutters on a glorious day, with a feeling of foreboding. In the short space of time since Ursula’s death, the family had changed incredibly. The rapport between Tebaldo and Isabella, strangely, for the better. The rows had stopped and Isabella seemed very concerned to keep both her husband and the children on an even keel. Tebaldo was very fragile, his stomach was still troubling him and he had such a haunted expression that Marta felt a terrible pang of pity every time she looked at him.

  Marianna had become totally distanced. Apart from the ridiculous idea of marrying that boy, even if he recovered from the critical state that Marta had heard he was in, there was the fact that Marianna wasn’t eating and spent most of her time in her bedroom. It looked as though she might be going back to the anorexic state that had marked the period of her breakdown after the abortion. Who could Marta talk to about it? They had always referred problems to Madam and now she was gone, everything seemed to be falling apart.

  Lapo, poor boy, was out doing whatever it was he did at night. When Lapo suffered, he usually made other people suffer too, but if there was more trouble who would they talk to about it? Piero was good at sorting things but he couldn’t write cheques now to soothe the wounded and pay for their silence. She knew Lapo was devastated by his mother’s death, that was why he was on the rampage, whoring and boozing, and it worried her deeply. If only he would come to her and talk about his grief.

  That was another thing that worried her, money. All Ursula’s assets had been frozen and soon money would be needed. Who would they ask for money? The will had not yet been read and she had no idea who the executor might be. As soon as she knew, she and Piero would apply to him for assistance in practical matters.

  As for the family, for now bound together in this house, she had to ask herself how they would live from now on; who would live where and whether she and Piero would be wanted by any of them. She went into the kitchen and automatically began preparing breakfast, though the only people she expected to be present were Tebaldo and his family. Marianna would probably stay in bed until nearly lunch time and Lapo had no doubt been out till very late as usual, so he wouldn’t be down for breakfast. She hadn’t got to sleep until after three and by then, she’d been so exhausted she’d fallen into such a deep sleep she hadn’t even heard him come in. She’d woken at seven and found that, as usual, this last couple of days, Piero was already up. She knew he was having terrible trouble sleeping and was so restless that he had to keep moving, keep working, finding things to do. At least the police had gone, though Ursula’s room was still sealed. Cook, Franca and Laura the cleaner were coming in this morning so some semblance of normality might be achieved.

  The coffee bubbled up in the pot and she poured herself a cup. She felt exhausted and would have quite willingly done what Marianna was doing. She cut herself a slice of bread and began to chew on it. Eating was no longer a pleasure for anyone, it had become a duty for them all.

  Cook bustled about glad to be back in what she thought of as her kitchen. “I’m sure it wasn’t easy for you without me,” she remarked to Marta, as though asking to be assured if her worth.

  “It wasn’t. Mind you no one was very hungry so I just made very simple things.”

  “How are you feeling, my dear?” asked Cook kindly, as she rummaged about looking for things that Marta had put in the wrong place. “Are you getting over the shock?”

  “I’ll never get over it.” Marta heaved a great sigh and then suddenly burst into tears. Cook came over and put an arm round her shoulder. “There, there. You need to rest. Why don’t you go and have a lie down, or just put your feet up and read a book. I’ll take care of everything. I can manage and Franca will be in to give me a hand any minute now. Go on, off you go.”

  Marta dabbed her damp eyes with a handkerchief. “I think I will, Paola. I feel terrible. When Piero comes in tell him where I am, please.”

  “Don’t you worry about anything. I’ll keep everything running smoothly till things get back to normal.”

  Marta paused in the doorway, “That’s the problem, I don’t think they ever will get back to normal.”

  Paola continued her searching. Finally, she stopped and muttered, “They’re not
here,” and as she said it, a terrible thought entered her mind.

  Marianna showered. She stood for a long time in the shower just allowing the water to stream over her. Finally, she made a move, tied her hair in a huge towel and slipped on a bath robe. Then she pottered about in her bedroom, touching her things and rearranging them into some kind of order that satisfied her. She made her bed, pulling the sheets to a rigorous perfection and when she had finished, admired the perfect order that she had achieved.

  She dried herself and dressed carefully, then finally let her damp hair free and began the laborious task of drying it. She wasn’t hungry. She hadn’t felt hungry since her mother’s death and there was nothing that she wanted to do apart from see Roberto, which she did every day, apart from one day when something had happened, something that had slipped from her mind, something painful. She stopped trying to remember. It required too much effort. Marianna was good at forgetting things. Recently, her memory had become erratic. Sudden terrible visions from the past would rush in unbidden while other, more recent, events would vanish, elude her, no matter how hard she tried to grasp them. She hadn’t even the energy to try and understand why this should be. She dried her hair with repetitive gestures until the fine golden cape was perfectly dry, shiny and straight. Then she left her room, giving it one final glance as though to reassure herself that the order she had imposed, had not been subverted in any way.

  Marta, having taken to her bed, decided to remain there. She knew that between them, Paola and Franca could see to the serving. She didn’t want to see anyone anymore. The thoughts that tormented her, the hideous images that flashed in some kind of eternal replay through her mind had deprived her of the will to organise the household or to even try and live with some semblance of normality. Now that someone else could do it, she relinquished her role without regret. Piero came in and found her lying in the darkened bedroom.