Broken Chord

by Margaret Moore

  “Did you go to the villa on the night of the murder?”

  Guido weighed things up in his mind. He was being blackmailed about this, and there was a witness who’d seen him leave the villa. Suddenly, it didn’t seem so important to deny that he’d been there. He took a deep breath and said, “Yes.”

  “You did? Did you go into the villa?”

  Guido took another deep breath, “Yes.” Bruno shot a triumphant look at Drago.

  “Did you see Ursula von Bachmann?”

  Guido thought back to that terrible night. He had knocked on the door, gone in and turned on the light. On the bed was something so terrible he wasn’t even sure it had ever been a human being. He’d closed the door, after wiping all the surfaces he’d touched, and bolted. “You’re never going to believe this…”

  “Try me.”

  “She was already dead.”

  Bruno gave a huge smile. “Ah, now that is hard to believe.”

  “I swear to God she was already dead. It was horrific. I just got away as fast as I could. I drove like a maniac.”

  “Which is why a witness remembered seeing you,” noted Drago.

  Guido had a vague memory of almost crashing into another car. It had sobered him up considerably and he’d slowed down after that. “Yes, I remember.”

  “Why did you send the flowers the next day?”

  “I had to make it look as though I didn’t know she was dead.”

  “How long were you in the villa?”

  “Only a few minutes. You’ve taken my clothes, there’s nothing on them, right? Well, whoever did that to her must have had blood on his clothes. I know. I saw what he did to her.”

  Dragonetti thought carefully. “I agree but you could have got rid of the clothes and the knife.”

  “When? Not on my way home. I couldn’t go back to the hotel with no clothes on.”

  “Perhaps you went intending to kill her and had other clothes with you,” suggested Bruno.

  “You’ve got me on videotape. Check what I was wearing.”

  It was true, he had gone out and come back wearing the same clothes. The timing was such that he’d have had little time to change and change back again.

  “An overall perhaps? The sort that we use for crime scenes?”

  “Look, someone saw me go into the villa and come out again. Claudio Rossi. He can tell you what I was wearing.”

  “He saw you?”

  “Yes, and tomorrow I’m supposed to be bringing him money so he’ll keep his mouth shut.”

  “He’s blackmailing you?” Bruno sounded amused.

  “That’s right.”

  “Where are you meeting him?” asked Drago.

  “In the bar near here.”

  “Great. Have you got the money?” Dragonetti was overjoyed. Now he had two suspects placed at the villa.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. We’ll come too and catch him red handed, after he’s taken it.”

  Guido suddenly said, “Hey, if he was there, maybe he did it.”

  “Maybe he did.”

  “Ursula phoned me at one. I phoned her back but she didn’t answer so I got straight in the car and drove to the villa. I went in and found her dead. He said he was there so it’s obvious he could have done it, but when he saw me afterwards, he decided to blackmail me. He was trying to set me up for this.” He sounded so relieved that Drago was inclined to believe him.

  “You didn’t see anyone else?”

  “No one.”

  “So that puts the two of you on the spot at the right time.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t do it, so it must have been him.”

  “But you have a motive.”

  “So does he!”

  “Oh come on, what motive? She wasn’t a threat to him.”

  “He’s sick in the head, but really. She was going to throw them out of their house and besides he hates Germans”

  “Now how do you know that, I wonder?”

  Guido said nothing.

  “How well do you know Claudio Rossi?” asked Bruno.

  “Not well. I met him when the villa was being restored. He was working there as a labourer.”

  Drago added, “Leaving that aside, let’s face it Signor della Rocca, as a motive it doesn’t stand up. Your motive, on the other hand, is only too strong. This woman had rejected you and thrown you out. You went back to try and convince her to change her mind, but she wouldn’t, so you killed her in a fit of rage.”

  “Why did she phone me then?”

  “You tell me. I don’t know.”

  “I wish I did. I thought she must want to talk to me, but she didn’t say a word. That’s why I rushed over there when she didn’t answer my call. I thought she wanted me to come and see her. I couldn’t believe it when I saw she was dead.”

  “I would love to believe you.”

  “Let’s put it this way, I’ve told you the truth and if you don’t believe me you still have to prove I did it. Do you have a single shred of evidence against me?”

  Dragonetti sighed. He didn’t have even one piece of evidence and Guido knew it. He could never take him to trial unless he had something. Perhaps Claudio Rossi’s evidence would do it.

  “Where were you last night?” This from Bruno.

  “In the hotel. I didn’t leave it until this morning. Check the video tapes.”

  “Oh, we will.”

  Drago made a decision and stood up, “Alright, house arrest in the hotel for now. Do you understand, you don’t leave the hotel?”

  “Thank God for that.”

  “If you do go out I’ll arrest you. Is that clear?”

  “Crystal clear, but aren’t you going to tell me what’s happened?”

  “I think you already know.”

  “I swear before God that I don’t.”

  “Then I’ll leave you to find out all in good time like the rest of the world.”

  “Someone else has been murdered.” Guido said it flatly, as a statement. “That’s why you’re asking me for an alibi for last night. Who was it?”

  Dragonetti smiled and said, “Good evening, Signor della Rocca. I’ll see you tomorrow, no doubt. Remember, if you try to leave the hotel I’ll have you arrested.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t even think about it. At least I’ll be safe in there and from what I understand there’s a madman out there. For all you know, I could be next on the list.”

  After he had gone out, Dragonetti said, “I wish we knew that Rossi had a proper motive for this crime. His aunt worked in the villa as a cleaner and had a key. He had opportunity and means, but it’s ridiculous to think he’d do it just because of a grudge against Germans. And if he did, why did he murder Lapo as well?”

  “Maybe he’s really seriously sick in the head. Maybe he’s a psychopath with a fixation about the family. He sees them as the enemy, as usurpers, as a danger to him so he kills them. Don’t forget his grandfather’s been nourishing him with old stories of the war, probably since childhood and then Ursula killed all the old lady’s cats, so if he’s unbalanced, it could be enough.” offered Bruno.

  “Maybe so, but if you’re right then none of them is safe.”

  “No, I don’t think they are but they’ll be alright tonight with a police guard and tomorrow we’ll take Rossi in.”

  “We could take him in now.”

  “Yes, but I rather want to catch him blackmailing Guido. So far we only have Guido’s word for it – this way, all else failing, we’ll have an excuse to hold him.”

  *

  When the family gathered around the table for the evening meal they were in a sombre mood. With their numbers reduced and the state of shock they were all labouring under it was a grim meal. Signora Paola brought the food to the table with Piero. She had reddened eyes and looked exhausted.

  She said, “I won’t be able to come tomorrow. They, the police, want me to stay home, and Franca and Laura. Marta’s out of it. You’ll just have to manage somehow.”

  �
�Thank you, Signora Paola. I’ll do it myself. I do know how to cook,” said Isabella.

  “You do?” asked Teo uncertainly.

  “Yes. We’ll be fine. How is Marta, Piero?”

  “She’s still sleeping.”

  “It’s probably the best thing.”

  The children were the only ones who ate with any semblance of an appetite, the others just picked at their food in silence. Teo summed it up for them, “I don’t think the cook’s absence will be a great loss.”

  Isabella smiled and said, “Hey kids, tomorrow evening we’ll order a pizza in from that great pizzeria in town.”

  “Wow, I love pizza,” cried Arabella.

  “And for lunch we’ll have a picnic at the pool.”

  “I love picnics,” echoed her sister.

  “Thank you, Isabella,” said Teo and he sounded truly grateful.

  “Can I come to your picnic?” asked Marianna, who seemed to have recovered her usual serenity.

  “Yes, and you must watch me swim. You said you were coming today and you didn’t.”

  “Well, things happened and I couldn’t, but tomorrow I promise I will.”

  “Tomorrow will be the bestest day of all.” Camilla sighed with contentment.

  Dragonetti got home late. His faithful companion was waiting for him as usual and they climbed the stairs together.

  Vanessa was seated at the computer writing furiously. “Go away Jacopo. I’m busy. I’ll lose my train.”

  “What train?”

  “My train of thought, idiot. Shoo.”

  He grinned and left her to it. As he often did when he arrived home, he brewed some coffee. He looked out of the window which gave on to the courtyard. It always amazed him that the house had changed so little over the centuries. It gave him great pleasure to think that his ancestors had walked in the same courtyard and enjoyed the same peace, because Florence had always been a bustling city, probably as noisy centuries ago as it was now, albeit in different ways. When the coffee bubbled up he poured himself a cup and then took it through to the sitting room. The window here gave on to the street. The glass muted a little of the noise but enough reached him to jar his mood. Vanessa joined him. “Sorry about that. I was just finishing off my write up.”

  “All done?”

  “All done. How are you?”

  “Tired, busy and worried.”

  “Worried about what?”

  “My murder case. There’s been another murder which complicates things. I know you hate to hear about my work but I’d like to talk it through with you”

  “Who’s been murdered, another family member?”

  “Yes, Lapo, the dwarf son.”

  “Oh my God! Was he killed in the same way?”

  “Yes and no. He was knifed, just the once. There was no mutilation.”

  “Do you think it was the same person who did it?”

  “Personally, I do. I know Bruno doesn’t, and I’ve tried to believe there are two murderers but I can’t. I was thinking in the car on the way home. What are the chances of two similar murders taking place in the same house, with knives from the same kitchen, to members of the same family, being committed by two different people.”

  “Very slim I would have thought. Who do you think did it?”

  “I had an idea for Ursula’s murder, no proof you understand, but there was some kind of a motive. Then Guido the toy boy looked good for it and it seemed he did have a strong motive but now I’m not so sure. You see, Guido could conceivably have killed Ursula, but not Lapo. After we’d found out he’d left the hotel that night, he knew he was a prime suspect for Ursula’s murder, so unless Lapo knew something damaging about him he wouldn’t have needed to kill the boy. If Lapo had known anything that would nail Guido, there would have been every reason for him to tell me but he didn’t, ergo… There was something actually, but it wasn’t Lapo who knew, it was Ozzie.”

  “Ozzie?”

  “The ghastly grandson of the tenant farmer, I think I told you about him.”

  “Ah, yes, Ozzie. What did he know?”

  “Ozzie knew Guido had been at the villa at about the time Ursula was murdered, so you see if Guido had wanted to shut someone up it would have been Ozzie. And Guido actually told us himself that he was there, so I’m puzzled. I don’t understand why he would need to kill Lapo.”

  “Why would anyone need to kill Lapo?”

  “He was a very disturbed young man. Everyone told me how cruel he was and by cruel, I mean sadistic.”

  “So maybe he killed his mother and got done for it.”

  “Yes, but if someone knew it was him then why not tell us about it? Why become a murderer yourself?”

  “So you don’t think he killed his mother.”

  “No. I think the same person killed them both. It’s logical.”

  “And do you have any idea?”

  “Yes, I do, but I have no evidence, no proof… nothing.”

  “Who couldn’t it have been?”

  “That’s just it, anyone could have done it, except Marta. She loved Lapo very much and was devastated by his death. There’s no doubt about it. I’m certain she had nothing to do with it.”

  “What about her husband?”

  “He’s a very powerful man in that house. He runs it. He made no bones about not liking Lapo, but I’m sure he would have killed him years ago if he was going to.”

  “So that’s two out of it. Who else is there?”

  “Tebaldo, the one you knew at school, and his wife Isabella. She told me she could have cheerfully strangled her mother-in-law, who snubbed her continuously and he… well, he went out that night, I’m sure of it but no one’s saying anything. I’m going to press him further on that. What’s more, he found both bodies which is a great way of explaining any forensic evidence you might leave at the crime scene. You were there, you left a trace.”

  “And did he?”

  “No, just some blood on his shoe.”

  “And his wife?”

  “No trace of her ever having been in the room. She hated both Ursula and Lapo. That’s all.”

  “And the sister?”

  “Marianna. The girl is rather strange. She seemed quite unemotional about her mother’s death but she fainted when she heard her brother was dead.”

  “Not surprising really, that’s two members of her family killed in the house.”

  “Mmm. Of course she could easily have killed them both. She never leaves the house at night. Her fiancé has been run over and she goes to see him at the hospital every day. Apart from that she spends nearly all her time in her room. There was some trouble with her mother over this boy, Roberto… hang on, Roberto, now I wonder if he’s the same Roberto…” His thoughts raced. Roberto… drugs, Marianna spaced out, maybe on drugs?

  “Sorry, I’ve just had an idea. It might come to nothing and it might mean nothing but I’ll need to check it. Anyway, enough of all this, let’s eat.”

  “I haven’t cooked anything.”

  “So, we’ll eat out. What’s your fancy?”

  “Actually, I fancy Indian. It’s terribly good for you in the hot weather.”

  “Then we must have it, every day.”

  “Idiot, but seriously, shall we?”

  “I’ve just said yes. What are you waiting for?”

  “I’ll go and get changed. I won’t be a mo’.”

  Jacopo sat down beside the cat and stroked it. A loud purring was his reward. The little animal closed its eyes and relaxed completely. Vanessa returned shortly afterwards wearing beige linen trousers and a short-sleeved top. She had combed her hair and left it loose.

  “Jacopo aren’t you going to change?”

  “No, can’t be bothered. Won’t this do?”

  “Actually you look fine. Anyway I’m too hungry to wait any longer.”

  Jacopo got up. “Ciao Rossini,” he said, caressing the little animal which stared back at him with amber eyes.

  But despite the excellent food serv
ed on a delightfully cool terrace, his thoughts wandered towards the von Bachmann family; Marianna so calm and secretive who had fainted when told of her brother’s death, yet he had never thought she was that fond of Lapo. Was it fear for her own safety that had shaken her so much. She had asked, “Who’s next, Tebaldo?” Did she think her brother was responsible for these deaths. Tebaldo had definitely not been in his bed all night when his mother was murdered. Perhaps the only person that Lapo would not tell the police about was his brother. Had he seen something? Was that why he had had to die?

  “Jacopo, when we are out together, you might speak to me.”

  “Sorry, you seemed to be totally engrossed in eating. I didn’t want to interrupt your enjoyment.”

  “You, on the other hand have eaten very little. Don’t you like it?”

  “It’s very good. Sorry, but I was lost in my thoughts.”

  “Elektra and Orestes.”

  “Something like that.”

  “That’s an amazing piece of music. We haven’t got a recording of it.”

  “I’ll get you one.”

  “No I will. It’s for you, to help you see things more clearly.”

  “I wish it were that easy.”

  “I can see you’re still leaning towards matricide.”

  “Am I? Yes, I suppose I am. Let’s say with this kind of crime you always think of the family first.”

  “And the extended family.”

  “Piero the exemplary manservant. Yes, he would be perfect. You know there’s something strange about him. Do you realise he and his wife have spent the last twenty-five years of their life in service to the family.

  “And they are very loyal.”

  “Yes, though one has to wonder how much they’ve had to put up with and whether they would have liked to leave but were coerced into staying.”

  “Ursula pressuring them in some way to stay, a sort of blackmail.”

  “What secrets could they have?”

  “It’s very unhealthy this living at such close quarters, like family but not family. You said Piero was powerful, how powerful?”

  “I don’t know, but if he had something on them, then he would have been the victim.”

  “True, you seem very taken with his wife, Marta.”

  “She is quite open about her feelings. I would never believe her capable of violence… maybe to protect Lapo, but this wasn’t the case here.”