Caterina swung the car through the gates. A mortuary van, three Carabinieri cars, a white van. Two men from the SIS were chatting as they climbed into their white jumpsuits.
The car following drew up behind and the tired maresciallo who had taken her to the princess’s house while Niki and Nadia made their initial statements in the station, clambered out slowly, rubbing his eyes.
‘Ispettore Mattiola,’ he said. ‘Although I do not have men to spare to carry out an extensive search, I will do all . . .’ The rest of his words were lost to a long yawn. He stretched and went over to a uniformed officer standing by the gate lodge. They chatted amiably for a while. Beside Caterina, Niki, his skin the colour of a votive candle, shifted from foot to foot. Eventually the maresciallo returned.
‘Silvana has gone. No one heard or saw her leave. Personally I don’t blame her. What a shock –’
‘What about her car?’ asked Caterina.
‘It’s gone too,’ said the maresciallo. ‘I am worried about her. Your commissioner really brought a lot of trouble here.’
Caterina opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again. She wanted these people on her side and the Carabiniere was right. Blume did carry a lot of trouble around with him. ‘Did you know him well?’
‘Greco?’ said the maresciallo. ‘I thought I did, but,’ he added philosophically, ‘you never know anyone, really.’ The maresciallo patted Niki on the shoulder. ‘No need for you to be here, then, Niki. Would you like to sit down, perhaps? It’s going to be a long day. Longer than yesterday, unbelievably. It never rains but it pours.’
As he said this, the sun cleared the cliff face and bathed the entire scene in soft morning light.
‘Sit down?’ Niki did not understand.
‘In the back of a car, perhaps. With Nadia?’
‘You mean like I am under arrest?’
The maresciallo puffed out his cheeks, pursed his lips, and exhaled for some time as he considered this novel idea. ‘No, no! But we would all save ourselves a lot of running around trying to find one another. I mean the girl has already disappeared, which is a terrible nuisance. Then when the magistrate comes, he can decide. It’s just I can’t have you and Nadia trampling around the villa and gardens, when well . . . you know.’
‘I thought Greco had confessed to killing Alina,’ said Niki. ‘So why would I be under suspicion?’
‘I didn’t say that. It’s just . . . It was an incomplete confession, and now,’ he waved his hand towards the garden where the crime scene investigators had gone, ‘we’ll never know.’
‘Maresciallo,’ said Caterina in her sweetest voice, ‘you must be utterly exhausted.’
He shook his big head in sheer amazement at how true this was.
‘There is a nice bench over there on the side, by the house, I think you should sit on it.’
He thought so, too. When he was settled there, Caterina sat next to him. ‘I’d get you something from the house, but I suppose it would be polluting a crime scene to go in there.’
‘Not much of a crime scene. Door open, but no one there. Some signs of a struggle near the door, but nothing else.’
‘When was the last time you slept, you poor man?’
‘I can’t even remember,’ said the maresciallo. ‘Two deaths in one day. I was on my way back from the first, and I get this phone call. It was 1 in the morning, so I knew at once it was serious.’
‘And it was Domenico Greco?’
‘He just launched into this mad confession about killing a Romanian girl. He sounded delirious. I thought it was some sort of joke, then, well, I hate to say this, but I thought he might be under threat from your commissioner. None of it made any sense. He said he had poisoned himself, and it hadn’t worked properly, and he couldn’t bear the cramps any more. It was exhausting trying to keep up. So I told him we should talk in the morning.’
‘In the morning,’ repeated Caterina.
The maresciallo scowled and folded his arms, crossed his legs, and looked away from her. ‘Yes. That’s what I said.’
‘The public prosecutor is going to be very harsh with you on that point,’ said Caterina. ‘You know how they get. He’ll say things like you received a confession of murder and decided to sleep on it rather than act on it.’
‘He can say that, but it wouldn’t be true. I came down here, soon afterwards. With the appuntato over there. We knocked on the door there, no one in, which is when I began to get suspicious.’
‘So you searched the gardens?’
‘Yes. The moon was full. It was quite easy to see. We found him lying under a medlar tree, gun in hand, hole in temple. So we called it in and . . . all this.’
‘I admire the way you know the name of trees,’ said Caterina. ‘I wish I could identify them like that.’
The maresciallo made an effort to appear modest. ‘The medlar is easy. It’s the only tree you’ll find in the garden with flowers on it at this time of year. Its white blossoms were really easy to see last night. Also, the medlar is the only fruit I don’t like. We had one in our garden when I was a kid.’
‘I don’t think I have ever eaten one,’ said Caterina.
‘Don’t. The flesh of the fruit has to rot before you can eat it.’
‘Sounds revolting. Listen, Maresciallo, while you sit here, why don’t I borrow one of your men for a few minutes, walk around?’
‘Why?’
‘To see if I can find the commissioner.’
‘He’s here, too? I need to talk to him about some stuff. Where is he?’
‘I’m not sure. That’s why I want to look.’
‘You can have Paolo,’ said the maresciallo, pointing at the young appuntato still standing stiffly at attention in the distance.
‘Thanks.’
‘And bring him back here, please.’
‘Of course I’ll bring him back, I’m hardly going to take him home with me by mistake.’
‘I meant Commissioner Blume, if you find him.’
‘Oh, I see,’ said Caterina.
Niki, complaining and aggrieved, and Nadia, silent and patient, were sitting in the back of a Carabinieri patrol car, which Paolo seemed to be half-guarding. She was about to ask him to accompany her on her search, when a two-toned Smart came at excessive speed through the gates, almost clipping a pillar, then stopped with a whoosh of gravel and spray. A bearded man in his mid-thirties jumped out, as if escaping from a car with a mind of its own, and then grinned at everyone. ‘Took the corner too fast. Didn’t see it till it was almost too late. Smell that?’
Everyone obligingly sniffed.
‘Burning brakes! One hell of a twisty road. Sun in your eyes half the time. Magistrate La Porta at your service. You must be Caterina Mattiola. I know these other bastards already.’ He stuck out his hand, and gave her a vigorous pumping. It was hard to imagine this ball of bearded energy and the maresciallo working together.
‘Right. Well, first things first. Off to see the body in the garden. Or the bodies!’ he winked at Caterina. Catching sight of the maresciallo reclining on the bench, he shouted over: ‘Find anything there?’, but did not wait for a reply. Instead, he pulled out a piece of crumpled paper from the back of his jeans, and flapped it open under Caterina’s face.
‘Silvana’s phone calls, see? These are the numbers she was calling.’
‘She was under suspicion?’
‘She was fiancée to the scumbag with the prostitute in the car over there. Of course her calls were being monitored. I got this this morning . . .’
‘Niki isn’t a complete scumbag,’ said Caterina.
‘No? That’s good to hear. I could have sworn he was.’ The magistrate pulled out another sheet, and opened it. ‘See this?’
Caterina looked, and her eye fell on her own number, time, date, location. ‘That’s . . . Blume’s phone. You were intercepting his calls, too?’
‘Only as of the other day, keeping tabs on the numbers he called. This all began only hours ago, r
eally, after the maresciallo over there contacted me about a peculiar scene that took place in his dormitory – sorry, office – between Blume and Greco, the dead man in the garden. Now here,’ he jabbed at a telephone number with a dirty fingernail, ‘we have a call made to someone in Bari. And here . . . wait . . .’ he swapped the sheets around, ‘we have the last phone call made by Silvana a few hours ago, before she realized she should probably get rid of her phone. Interestingly, hers and Blume’s go off grid at the same time and in the same place, namely here. And the two of them have called this one person . . . it’s all very exciting. I almost went over the precipice on the road up there when the techies called me to mention the match. Any ideas?’
Caterina had none.
‘I am waiting for the people at the Tuscolano centre to get back to me. It should only take a few minutes. Want to wait, find out who it is?’
‘I’d prefer . . .’
‘Of course! Off you go then.’ He spun on his heel.
‘Ispettore?’ It was the young Carabiniere, Paolo, who always seemed to be standing at attention.
‘Yes?’
‘I think I may have found something.’
‘Well, tell me, what is it? And stand at ease, for God’s sake.’
‘It’s just that, well, I might have overstepped my authority, and even if I did the right thing, it might make my maresciallo seem a bit . . . lazy? And I don’t want that.’
‘Tell me what you found.’
‘Well, you know there was a body found at the bottom of an escarpment?’
‘Yes and no. The investigating magistrate mentioned it in passing when I was talking to him on the phone earlier, but said it was unconnected. No foul play.’
‘The body was of Princess Donatella Flavia Orsini-Romanelli. She probably fell to her death while taking a short cut that involves walking along a narrow ledge. Anyhow, she owns the house at the top to the town, and that is where Commissioner Blume is staying. The idea was to go round there and tell him that his hostess had been found dead, but then the maresciallo got the phone call from Greco, and we came down here, found the body, and well, everything kicked off. We called out two Carabinieri scelti, and they secured the area until the crime scene people came, and we went back to the office to get ready for the investigating magistrate, write a report, and so on.’
‘Come on, Paolo, get to the point.’
‘OK. The maresciallo took a bit of a nap, and I thought I would go up to the house where the commissioner was – it’s now five in the morning, and getting bright. On my way, I noticed that a car the commissioner has been using, but belongs to Niki, was gone. I get to the house, knock, call out a bit. Nothing. The front door is locked and I go round the back, because I know the princess always leaves that open – actually, she leaves the front door open too, so I guessed maybe the commissioner had locked it. I know I shouldn’t have gone into the house . . .’
‘You did fine.’
‘I looked in all the rooms. It’s creepy as hell in there, by the way. Even with a bit of light in the sky. No sign of the Commissioner. But in one of the front rooms on the ground floor, I found a plan. I put it in the back of the car . . . I’ll fetch it.’
‘A plan of what?’
‘Of the house over there. It was spread out on the table, you see, like someone had just been looking at it.’
The appuntato unrolled the plan over the bonnet. From inside the car, Niki and Nadia were straining their necks to see what was going on.
‘Hold down those corners. Right. This shows the house over there, right? See this red spot here?’
Caterina bent down to take a look. ‘What is that? Blood?’
‘That’s what I thought, too, which is basically what made me take it with me. Now, see there? That is a partial fingerprint. There was blood, not much, on the person’s finger.’
‘And he was pointing to that spot there,’ said Caterina.
‘Which corresponds to an area around the rear of the house.’
‘Appuntato Paolo?’
‘Ma’am?’
‘You’re wasted here. Come on. Lead the way.’
Chapter 34
When they reached the half-converted stables behind the villa, Paolo noticed the tool shed and thought they should check it out.
‘What for?’ she asked.
‘You never know.’ A few seconds later, he reappeared with a crowbar. ‘Might come in handy.’
Caterina loved this guy. Stiff and formal, unassuming, polite but with a very sharp mind. If she had been fifteen years younger. Nor did he look smug when they reached the bottom of the steps and were confronted with the first padlocked door, and his crowbar was immediately useful. All he said was ‘Shall I?’ and with three hard heaves, he had pulled the bolt, hinges, and padlock out of the door. He was first into the airlock, and came straight out again, a look of horror on his face. ‘We can’t go in there!’ He retched. ‘What is that?’
‘That,’ said Caterina, a little disappointed in Paolo now, ‘is the smell of death. Give me that crowbar, I’ll do the next one.’
He did not need asking twice. He handed it to her, and hovered outside trying to breathe in the air from above. She pushed the crowbar at the bolt, and tried to lever it behind, but it was too wide at the tip.
Someone knocked from the other side of the door, and shouted. A familiar voice, one that made her heart skip a beat for absolutely no reason she could explain.
‘Alec?’
‘Caterina?’
‘Are you all right?’
‘I am now.’
The appuntato took a deep breath and dived into the airlock. ‘Are you talking to someone?’
‘Here,’ she said, handing him the crowbar. ‘This is no good. Get lights – and help. We’ll need to break it down.’ The young man vanished; she could hear him running up the steps.
She sat down on the ground and put her back to the door; she knew he would be doing the same on the other side.
‘You came all this way.’ His voice carried well enough through the wood.
‘Of course I did.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Don’t thank me. Where is your phone, you stupid bastard?’
‘In my hand, giving me light now and again. No signal.’
‘Deficiente. You could have been dead, for all I knew. Testa di cazzo che non sei altro.’
‘Well, you sound real enough,’ said Blume. ‘I was beginning to wonder.’
‘What is happening to you?’
‘I’m not sure. I just sort of found myself in the middle of it all.’
‘Just found yourself in it.’ She banged the back of her head against the door. ‘What’s rotting in there?’
‘Can’t you tell?’
‘A corpse. Alina’s?’
‘Yes.’
How long since Paolo had gone for help? Probably only minutes.
‘Caterina, is it bright out yet? I don’t know when sunrise is, and I can’t see much change in here.’
‘Yes, the sun is up.’
‘It’s easy to lose track of time in here. I knew you would find me.’
‘No, you didn’t.’
‘I did know. Sort of.’
‘Because you made it so easy, leaving a dollop of blood on a map in a dead woman’s house? Why, who wouldn’t follow such an obvious lead?’
‘Dead woman?’
‘Princess Donatella Something Something Romanelli. Former owner of this pile, turned landlady of what I gather from Paolo is an equally gloomy place that no one in their right mind would want to stay in, so, of course, you did . . . .’
‘Who’s Paolo?’
‘A young Carabiniere you are going to thank profusely. How did you fail to hear about an accidental death in a place like this?’
‘I heard about it. I thought for a while the dead person was going to be Nadia.’
‘Nadia is here. She came with me.’
She let him digest that for a bit.
‘Did she hit her upper right temple in the fall?’ asked Blume.
‘What? I don’t know. How on earth would I? Can’t you ask a normal question?’
His silence this time was different. Without being completely aware of it, she had been conscious of the shuffling and scuffling sounds his body had been making, but now his silence was total, as if he were holding his breath.
‘Alec? Are you still there?’
‘Yes. I am here. Where’s Alessia? With your mother?’
‘No, I just left her on her own for the day, Alec. She can cope just fine. She’s nine months old now.’
‘You’re the most sarcastic woman I have ever met.’
‘You think? She’d make a better job of being alone than you.’
Finally, she heard the sound of approaching voices. ‘Here they come now, Alec.’
‘I can’t hear anything.’
‘Well, they’re coming.’
‘Good, because it’s dark in here.’
‘You’ll be out soon.’
Chapter 35
Caterina had never seen him look worse. He managed to leave the cellar calmly enough, shielding his eyes against the light. But 20 minutes later, as the arc lights and the forensics people moved into the dark cellar, he moved to a sunny spot near the front of the house, leaned against the wall, and puked.
She stood a respectful distance away, watching him heave, giving him time and space.
‘Why, hi there!’
She was not pleased to be joined by the bearded magistrate, and even less pleased when he stood beside her, folded his arms, and watched the closing convulsions of Blume’s spectacle.
‘He was in that cellar with a rotting corpse for hours and hours,’ she said defensively. ‘And he may have been poisoned.’
‘Absolutely! Poor bastard. He needs to go to hospital.’
‘I agree.’ She did not add that he had refused to comply when she had suggested the same thing.
The magistrate dropped his voice as Blume was now walking towards them. ‘The local doctor, a chap called Bernardini, is on standby. A toxicologist should be here soon.’
‘Right,’ said Blume as he walked up. ‘Shall we get back in there?’
Bitter Remedy: An Alec Blume Case Page 25
