Broken Chord

by Margaret Moore

“Are you ill?”

  “I can’t do it anymore. I’ve had it. I feel awful.”

  “But you’re alright?”

  “No, I’m not alright but I don’t need a doctor if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “You’ll feel better when they’ve found out who did it.”

  “Will I? I wonder.”

  “Isn’t Lapo coming down?” Isabella asked Teo.

  “How should I know? God knows when he got in last night. Did you hear him?”

  “No.” The only thing she’d heard had been the furtive midnight phone call Teo had made, excusing himself to the other woman, but she wasn’t going to mention that. Things were generally much better despite Teo’s stomach problems. He was concerned, mainly for the children, but this concern had extended to include herself. They both stayed with the children all day. She was now thankful for the absence of the au pair, and the children were happy. They were of an age when outside events could be hidden from them so that they remained untouched, unaware and safe. Safe, well, safe from the kind of sorrow adults feel. Their sorrows were trifling and easily calmed.

  Franca came in with the tray.

  “Where’s Marta?”

  “I’m afraid she’s not feeling too good, so Cook said we could manage quite well and sent her off to bed.”

  “Oh, I am sorry. Does she need a doctor?”

  “No, it’s not that sort of thing. Time’s the best medicine, if you get my meaning.”

  Teo smiled wryly and said, “Oh, I certainly do. Thank you Franca.”

  “Oh, by the way, Cook asked if you could pop down for a word after lunch, sir.”

  “Of course.”

  Marianna appeared silently at the French windows. “I’m just off to the hospital.”

  “You’re not eating?”

  “No, thanks, I got up too late. I can’t face lunch.”

  “Did you hear if Lapo is up?”

  “No. I expect he was late in last night.”

  “No doubt.”

  “He did come back, I presume?” asked Isabella feeling suddenly anxious.

  “I don’t know. Why shouldn’t he?”

  “Is his car here?”

  “It must be in the garage.”

  Isabella felt a terrible sense of urgency. “I think I’ll just go and check.”

  “I’ll go,” offered Marianna, “You’re eating, but I think you’re worrying unnecessarily. Lapo always comes back.” She walked over the courtyard towards the garage and half opened the door. In the gloom Lapo’s car was visible. She closed the garage door, then went back to the French windows and said, “It’s there.”

  “Oh well, that’s alright then. I know it’s silly of me, but after what happened, I feel quite anxious about everyone.”

  “Lapo can look after himself.”

  “I know, but accidents can happen.”

  For some reason, Marianna found that quite amusing. She laughed and said, “Oh I know, I know, but believe me, they don’t happen to the Lapos of this world.” She laughed again, hysterically, and then began to cry. She said bitterly, “Accidents happen to good people like Roberto, who’ve never hurt anyone, and don’t deserve it, not to little sadists like my brother.”

  Isabella said softly, “The children.”

  “Sorry.” She got out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “I might join you at the pool when I come back.”

  “I can swim,” said Arabella.

  “I know, sweetheart. I’ll come and see you this afternoon.”

  Then she was gone, her white dress swirling round her slim body, her golden hair streaming out behind her.

  “Franca said you wanted to talk to me?”

  “Yes, Signor Tebaldo. I’m sure it’s nothing but, well, there’s two knives missing. I don’t know when they disappeared, maybe Marta mislaid them, but the knives are always put back here in this block and there’s two missing, you can see for yourself. I can’t find them anywhere.”

  “What sort of knives?”

  “One’s a long, thin knife. I use it for deboning the prosciutto. It’s very sharp. The other is my cook’s knife, it’s much bigger with a wider blade.”

  “I see. Why are you telling me this? Do you need to buy new ones?”

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying… the thing is, should I tell the police?”

  “Why should you? Oh, you mean you think one of them might be the…”

  “I’m sorry, Signor Tebaldo, but with all these goings on, I just thought that perhaps… you know, they haven’t found the murder weapon, or so Marta tells me.”

  “Right. Well, look Signora Paola, you keep on looking and if they don’t turn up by this evening, then we’ll decide what to do. If it were just the one knife… but two, well, I expect Marta was muddled and put them both away somewhere else. We’re all a bit muddled at the moment.”

  He went out of the kitchen. Cook shook her head. He could think what he liked, she knew they weren’t in the kitchen.

  The children played in the pool, apparently happy. Although their grandmother had disappeared, she was not a central character in their lives and they were not concerned. Adults often appeared and then left, and no explanation was given other than that they had gone away, often on the mysterious’ business’. The most important people for them were their parents and usually they saw little of them. Father dealt with business and the au pair dealt with them. Their young lives were filled with dancing and swimming lessons and their kindergarten. Now, both their parents were totally present and there were no arguments, no bad-tempered snapping and no tears. It was heaven.

  Isabella felt that she had taken on the role of mother of all the family and now she was worried about Lapo, whom she’d never liked, and who’d always been subtly, sometimes even openly, rude to her. She forgave him. Well maybe it wasn’t really forgiveness, more of a putting to one side his unpleasantness. He was so young. He’d lost his mother in such a tragic way and he was unable to express his feelings. She was sure he was out every night because he couldn’t even acknowledge his feeling of grief for this tremendous loss. This family was very good at pretending. She thought about Marianna who was so determinedly serene. How could she be when her mother had been butchered in the bedroom next to hers! And Teo, now that his stomach was settling down, was doing his best to pretend life was normal, probably for the children, but even so there had been a decided change. She thought back to him overseeing their evening bath. This was something quite unprecedented.

  “Teo, I’m worried about Lapo. Perhaps you should go up and see if he’s alright.”

  “What’s the time?”

  “It’s half past four.”

  “He’s probably got up and gone out again.”

  “Could you check? I’d feel easier in my mind if I knew.”

  “You’re turning into a mother hen.” He smiled as he spoke.

  “Your brother and sister are still very young.”

  “Alright.” He got up and slipped on a towelling robe.

  ***

  “We’ve got him!” whooped an exultant Bruno handing the report to Dragonetti. Guido’s car had been spotted on the road leaving the villa at two in the morning. The witness remembered because the car had been going so fast it nearly hit him.

  “Why didn’t we get this info sooner?”

  “He was away. He’s a rep. He wasn’t questioned until today.”

  “Get Guido back here and we’ll squeeze him dry!”

  “It’s not enough.”

  “No, but he’ll supply the rest.”

  Piero was wrestling with his conscience. He knew something, that was probably nothing, but which had to be faced. Could he talk to Marta about it? She had been lying in bed all day, perhaps it was time to shake her up a bit. He entered the darkened bedroom.

  “Are you awake?” he asked softly.

  “Yes.”

  He turned the light on and looked at her. She looked dishevelled and older than her years. It was strange to s
ee someone so tidy and precise in everything she did looking like a shabby old woman.

  “You look awful,” he remarked.

  She sat up in bed and said, “You look terrible too. You haven’t slept since Madam was murdered. Look at yourself in the mirror.”

  He went over to the mirror and stared at himself. He’d eaten very little since the murder, had hardly slept at all and had forgotten to shave. He saw an old man, with a lined sagging face.

  Marta got out of bed and stood beside him. “What a fine couple we are!” “What are we going to do?” he asked

  “What do you mean?”

  “Marta, you know I told you that Lapo came back early that night. Well, I thought maybe he’d forgotten something. He stayed in the house for about twenty minutes before leaving again.”

  “What’s so strange about that?” She’d turned quite pale as though terrified he would tell her something horrendous.

  “When he left he was carrying a bag.”

  “Is that all?” Relief flooded her voice and the colour came back to her face. “What did you think was in it, the murder weapon?”

  “I don’t want to think that but…”

  “He just came back to get something. Lapo wouldn’t kill his mother. Don’t ever think that.”

  “Marta, don’t you see that if I were to tell the police what I saw that’s what they’d think.”

  “So… they don’t know him like we do. You’re not going to tell them, are you?”

  “No, no. I was thinking of talking to Lapo about it, you know, I want to ask him what was in the bag.”

  “What sort of bag was it?”

  “A plastic bag, it was pretty full. It occurred to me that he might have put his blood-stained clothes in it.”

  “Piero, Lapo didn’t kill his mother.”

  “I wish I could be as sure as you are.”

  “I’m very sure and I forbid you to ask him about the bag. Promise me you won’t.”

  “No, I haven’t and I won’t.”

  “Quite right too. And don’t you dare even think of telling the police. It’s none of their business.”

  “But you know what he can be like. You don’t think he did it, do you, Marta?”

  “No. I’ve already told you. Why should he?”

  “I don’t know, but why should anyone, except Guido.”

  “That’s what I keep telling myself, you see, I didn’t tell you… but I saw Teo that night.”

  “When?”

  “He went out at around one, I’d got up to go to the bathroom. You’d just got into bed. Anyway I heard someone, so I went and looked out of the window.”

  “Well, if he wasn’t here, he couldn’t have killed his mother.”

  “No, but I thought maybe he’d already done it before he went out.”

  “Marta, you know he didn’t do it. Teo of all people!”

  “Do I? You think it was Lapo, but Teo could have done it just as easily.”

  The nurses looked through the glass door watching Marianna who was talking ten to the dozen to Roberto. “She comes almost every day and stays for hours.”

  “It’s amazing. She must love him.”

  “She’s incredibly beautiful, hardly looks real.”

  “Yes, but there’s something about her breaks your heart.”

  “Poor little rich girl?”

  “In a way, but when something like this happens, it doesn’t matter how rich or how poor you are. There’s nothing like illness for doing away with class and social status. All you care about is the person who’s ill and, believe me, everyone suffers in exactly the same way no matter how much money they have.”

  “She’s got such a wonderful smile.”

  “Yes, I think she must be a very nice person.”

  “Poor kid, and you know her mother was killed in her bed. I don’t know how she can bear it.”

  “She’s had more than her fair share. They say these things always come in threes. Let’s hope it’s not true.”

  They moved on and Marianna who had been quite unaware of their presence continued talking to Roberto about their future. She knew that one day, soon, everything was going to be absolutely perfect.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Teo came back to the pool and reported, “He’s not there and he hasn’t slept in his bed.”

  “Perhaps Franca made his bed.”

  “No, I asked her.”

  “But, Marianna said his car was in the garage.”

  “Maybe he was drunk and fell asleep in the car.”

  “Teo, you’ll have to go and look.” Isabella’s voice had an edge of hysteria.

  “Calm down. I’ll go now.”

  Tebaldo walked back to the house and over to the garage with an appalling feeling of apprehension. In a terrible flash of premonition, he saw Lapo dead in the car. He knew he was there. He would be sitting at the wheel, his body hacked to pieces, an eye hanging out and staring at him. It would be exactly the same, all over again. It was his task to go in and find his brother’s body and let everyone know. His hand clutched convulsively at his stomach, pressing hard against it. He could feel himself shaking.

  He pressed the button that opened the garage door and waited until it was fully open and some sunlight streamed in, before gingerly stepping into the half-light and peering into the car. His relief was so enormous that he almost laughed aloud. The car was empty! But the keys were in the car. He opened the car door. He checked it was totally empty. He closed the car door thoughtfully and stepped back.

  He straightened up still smiling and began to move away, telling himself what a fool he had been to listen to Isabella’s fussing and his own fears. Then his shoe stuck in something. He was standing in a little pool of dark, sticky stuff which he knew had to be blood. His stomach heaved. He saw where it had come from and moved towards a dark corner of the garage on trembling legs. There was a small, tarpaulin-covered shape. His ears felt strange; a curious tight humming sound blocked out everything else. With dark spots dancing in front of his eyes, he lifted the corner of the heavy cloth. He saw enough and let it drop again. His hand shot to his mouth and he desperately fought against the desire to vomit. His head was spinning. There was only himself and the shape, the horror. He had to get out of this confined space that was closing in on him. He moved quickly taking deep sobbing breaths and once out in the burning sun, looked at the harshly-lit world with frightened eyes. He closed the garage door behind him.

  Without knowing what he was doing he went down to the pool and stood there looking at the normality of his family. He answered Isabella’s question, with, “Everything’s fine. I won’t be a minute, I just have to go and…” He broke off and ran swiftly up to the house.

  Guido arrived at the Procura and once again refused to speak until his lawyer arrived.

  “It doesn’t matter, the fact is that we have proof that you went to the villa on the night that Ursula von Bachmann was murdered. We have a witness who saw you driving away from the villa, at great speed at about a quarter to two. When your lawyer comes, perhaps you’ll be ready to explain what you were doing there.”

  Dragonetti’s phone rang. He picked it up, listened intently and then said, “I’m on my way.”

  He put the phone down.

  “Unfortunately, I have to leave but you will wait for me in the corridor, if you please. I’ll be back. Get your story ready and while you’re at it, you’ll probably need an alibi for last night, too.”

  Bruno raised his eyebrows in a mute question. Drago said, “Let’s go.”

  Guido stood up and was propelled towards the door. In the corridor he was handed over to a uniformed policeman. He looked bewildered, “Has someone else been murdered?”

  Dragonetti smiled and said, “You tell me.”

  Then he and Bruno were gone.

  Teo vomited yet again. His brother’s body, which he’d barely glimpsed, had not been the horrific spectacle he had expected. A large knife protruded from his chest and that was all,
but it had revived the recent memories of his mother’s mutilated corpse. If only he could forget that terrible eye which had seemed to accuse him and now haunted him in his dreams. Lapo’s death had been a clean, efficient job, a quick thrust of the knife into his chest and then his body had been covered and left. His killer hadn’t stopped to lay him waste, but somehow every time he closed his eyes, Teo saw the body of his mother superimposed onto that of his brother and then he’d have to rush to bathroom.

  After his macabre discovery he had phoned the police and then staggered back out to break the news to Isabella in a frenetic whisper while the children splashed happily in the pool. She’d been absolutely wonderful and had immediately taken the children up to the safe haven of their bedroom where she was trying to keep them happy and unaware. He’d waited shivering in the hot sun for the police to arrive, wrapping his towelling robe tightly around him.

  He watched them drive up and get out of their car. He mutely directed them to the crime scene and pressed the button on the remote control to open the garage door for them. They only stayed in there a brief moment, just enough to verify the truth of what he’d told them.

  Jacopo Dragonetti had laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Unfortunately, you seem to be very good at finding dead bodies,” he remarked.

  “What! Oh my God!”

  “Come upstairs and you can tell me all about it. Bruno, wait for the crime scene officers, would you, and make sure no one goes anywhere near the area.”

  “Who’s around?” asked Bruno.

  “Wait! Let me think.” Teo pushed at his hair with one shaking hand. “No one else knows except Isabella. She’s taken the children up to their room.”

  “Who else is in the house?”

  “Piero and Marta, maybe Paola, that’s the cook and Franca, that’s her helper. I don’t know. Marianna’s out.”

  “Alright, I’ll tell them myself. You wait here with my assistant.”

  “I need to go to the bathroom.”

  “Of course.”