Page 11 of Murder at Christmas

‘Just so I get the background clear, could I ask you some more personal questions?’

He gave an almost imperceptible nod of the head.

‘I understand from your daughter that your wife sadly died when Valentina was a young girl. Can I ask if you remarried?’

This question did at least succeed in making him raise his eyes from his fingers.

‘No. I loved Elizabeth dearly and I never felt like marrying again.’

He sounded sincere enough, so I tried another tack. ‘I gather that Orlando works in the business with you. Do you truly believe he might wish to harm you?’

He reached for his glass again. ‘It has to be him or Ingrid, I’m sure of it.’ He swallowed the last of his drink and stood up. He went over to the bottles on the cabinet and splashed more whisky into his glass. After another mouthful, he reached up to a fairly bland painting of an Alpine scene hanging above the cabinet. He pulled it away from the wall, revealing a small safe. Removing a set of keys from his pocket, he opened this and took out a white envelope. After closing the door and replacing the painting, he came over and handed me the envelope – his whisky clutched in his other hand.

‘Selena let me have your terms and conditions. Here is full payment for four days of your time, plus an extra bit for your travelling costs.’ He managed to raise a hint of a smile. ‘We live in Italy, so I’m sure you’ll appreciate being paid in cash.’

I took the envelope and thanked him. Cash payments and tax evasion continue to be a thing in Italy, even though successive governments have done their best to tighten the system up. Since setting up my business, I had often been offered payment in cash, in wine or, on one memorable occasion, with the offer of a sheep. I had no intention of being kicked out of Italy or ending up in an Italian jail, so I had decided from the outset to make sure that my accounts were scrupulously in order. Still, I told myself, it was Christmas, so I pocketed the envelope and decided to give my conscience time to decide what to do about it.

As I headed for the door, I turned back to find Bartolomeo with the glass of whisky once more at his lips and it occurred to me that if he carried on drinking at this rate, he wouldn’t need the services of a murderer to hasten his demise.

I tried one final question. ‘I wonder if you could clarify the position of William in your household. Is he a family member or does he work for the company? What’s his full name?’

‘William Rogers is my PA. I always used to have female personal assistants, but they became a distraction, so this time, I got myself a male.’

What kind of distraction had his female assistants provided? Might they also have been a distraction to his former partner? I remembered Valentina’s comment about what she had referred to as her father’s ‘lady friends’. Rather than Ingrid or Orlando, might the would-be killer turn out to be a disgruntled woman out there who was seeking radical revenge on the two men?

7

MONDAY EVENING

Dinner was served in a dining room that echoed our Alpine surroundings. Like the rest of the villa, this had wooden beams, wooden windows and doors, along with a polished wooden floor. In case there could be any doubt as to where we were, the wall was hung with paintings of mountain scenes interspaced with pairs of old wooden skis, rope-strung snowshoes like tennis racquets, and a couple of stuffed marmots on the mantelpiece for good measure. These little brown furry animals were posed standing on their hind legs, and I couldn’t help being reminded of the TV adverts featuring Russian-accented meerkats. I mentioned this sotto voce to Anna, and she gave me a conspiratorial wink and a little grin.

‘Behave yourself. Be thankful there isn’t a stuffed Alpine guide here as well.’

Name cards had been prepared, and we found ourselves separated. Anna was positioned next to Selena near the head of the table, while I had Ingrid, the widow of Bartolomeo’s partner, to my left at the opposite end of the table from our host, close to the kitchen door, from which a series of enchanting aromas emerged, totally mesmerising my ever-hungry Labrador – andme, if I was honest. Lunch today had been a banana in the van, so I was definitely ready for food. As for Oscar, although he had just had his evening meal, he’s always ready for food.

Opposite me was William, the PA, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Nevertheless, he managed to produce a hint of a welcoming smile in reply to my greeting across the table, but Ingrid’s stony expression didn’t crack for a second when I said hello. She did, at least, produce an answer, but her tone was as glacial as the air outside.

‘Good evening.’

Although I was very keen to speak to her, in the hope of getting some idea of what sort of person she was, and whether she might have homicidal ambitions, this wasn’t the place for such a conversation so for now, I left her to her own thoughts and turned my attention to my other neighbours. The seat to my right was occupied by Cinzia Naselli, now changed into a very fetching dress the same chestnut colour as her hair. I noticed that Oscar had positioned himself between me and her and was now resting his nose on her lap, clearly approving of her wardrobe choice, while she fondled his ears in response. Opposite her was Fiona, looking as lovely as ever, and she was the first to speak, ostensibly addressing me, but speaking loud enough for the others to hear.

‘Do you have much experience of Piedmontese food, Dan?’

I shook my head. ‘None at all. This is the first time I’ve been to Piedmont. I’m based in Florence and most of my time is spent down there. As for food, the Tuscans claim that they make the best food in Italy.’ I allowed myself a little smile. ‘But they also claim to speak the best Italian, have the most beautiful historic buildings, and the best wines – oh, and don’t forget the best extra virgin olive oil and the best bread in the world. Tell me about Piedmontese food and drink. The smells coming from the kitchen are amazing.’

‘You’re in for a treat – we all are. Paolo’s a professionally trained chef, and his cooking is superb. Tonight, he’s promised us some local specialities. A word of warning – go slow on the antipasti because the food will just keep on coming. Piedmont is famous for its starters, and I’ve been at dinners where there have been a dozen cold starters followed by half a dozen warm antipasti before we even got onto the pasta course, let alone the meat course. Fortunately, Paolo favours quality over quantity, but I advise you to take it easy all the same.’ She glanced at William beside her. ‘I know you’ve only been over here for a few months, William, but you must have had some memorable meals with Bartolomeo.’

He grinned back at her. ‘I know what you mean. There was one meal last month in Turin where they served us a truckload of antipasti, four different types of pasta, then boiled meats followed by roast meats, not to mention cheese and dessert as well. I’m sure I’ve put on pounds and pounds since September.’

I picked up on his words. ‘So does this mean you’ve only worked for Aquila for three months?’

He nodded, and I took a closer look at him. I reckoned he was a bit older than I had first thought, probably about the same age as Fiona, around thirty, and, beneath his apparent shyness, he was a good-looking young man. I thought I would try to find out a bit more about him.

‘If you don’t mind my asking, what made you decide to come to Italy to work? Presumably, you speak the language.’

‘My Italian’s reasonable. I did GCSE French and Italian years ago at school but then I read PPE at Cambridge and I neglected my languages. I’ve always loved Italy so I did an intensive language course in Milan over the summer, and I’ve never worked so hard in my life to get up to speed. I get by pretty well now, but it’ll be a while before I’m fully fluent. Presumably, you speak Italian like a native if you live over here.’

I smiled in return, hoping that his limited fluency in Italian didn’t hamper him in his job. ‘Nobody could mistake me for an Italian but, yes, after three years in the country, I manage reasonably well. Can I ask why you decided to come and work in Italy?’