Page 23 of Murder at Christmas

Most importantly, we had no evidence against any of them. All three remained prime suspects as far as I was concerned but, without proof, there was no way we could do anything more. As for Giorgio Gallo, the only threatening behaviour during his encounter with Bartolomeo last night had come from Viviani, and I hadn’t picked up an aggressive vibe from the property developer. Even so, he, too, had to remain in the frame for now, but I wasn’t optimistic of anything damning appearing against him.

I told myself that the sensible thing would be to accept that it had been an accident, but the idea that one of these people might quite literally get away with murder didn’t sit well with me. I vowed to myself that I would keep investigating, but I had a feeling I might well be on a hiding to nothing.

There was a brief, and somewhat macabre, discussion about the best course of action with regard to Bartolomeo’s body. The Carabinieri had also seen the forecast predicting yet more snow starting imminently and they were understandably reluctant to try and cram the body first into the snowcat and then into the back of the Land Rover, so the four of us ended up wrapping Bartolomeo in a sheet and sneaking him out of the back door into the cold store until the proper authorities could come to collect him. It was a pragmatic and rather squalid solution, and it was just as well that none of the family or guests were aware of where he had been housed –sic transit gloria mundi.

Finally, we all shook hands, and Paolo told the two officers he would drive them back to their vehicle at the restaurant. I asked him if he wanted company, but he waved away my offer and told me to stay here and relax. I was very impressed to hear that he had somehow found time to prepare tonight’s meal, and he told me that Marina would make sure we were well fed. I did as instructed and went back into the lounge, and from there to the dining room.

There were no name cards tonight, and I found myself sitting between Selena and Valentina at dinner. Both were understandably subdued, and the first part of the meal was conducted in nearly complete silence. In her husband’s absence, Marina – still looking stunned by the day’s events – was working like a woman possessed, almost running from the kitchen to the dining room and back, and I was delighted to see Valentina jump to her feet to help her, refusing all Marina’s protestations that she could cope on her own. I was pleased because this was not only good for Marina; it was also good for Valentina, giving her something else to think about apart from her dead father. In her absence, I chatted to Selena, deliberately trying to keep the conversation away from today’s events. I managed to get her to tell me about her career, which was going from strength tostrength, and I even succeeded in bringing a smile to her face a few times.

The food and drink probably contributed to bringing a smile, not only to her face, but to the faces of many of the people around the table as well. Tonight’s antipasti started with a mixed platter of different salami and a particularly tasty duck pâté, accompanied by freshly made focaccia. This was followed byacciughe al verde, a potentially lethal sounding mix of anchovy fillets in a sauce made of olive oil, finely chopped parsley and garlic, but which proved to be excellent. This was all accompanied by a bowl of wonderful mixed salad composed of red and green lettuce, endives, rocket, walnuts, blue cheese and artichoke hearts. I noticed that Selena helped herself to this rather than the other stuff and I gave her a wink.

‘Still on the rabbit-food diet?’

When Anna and I had first met her, Selena had told us about the rigorous diet she had had to follow most of her adult life. In a profession where appearance is everything, staying beautiful takes dedication and hard work.

She smiled back. ‘For now, but I’m giving myself a break on Christmas Day itself. Bring on the turkey with all the trimmings.’

I wondered what Christmas lunch here would consist of. Apart from anything else, Italians tend to celebrate Christmas Eve as much as – or even more than – Christmas Day itself. They aren’t big on turkey and Christmas pudding and they tend to go for ravioli or similar, but maybe, in a cosmopolitan household like this, Paolo would have other ideas. I asked Selena whether she would still be here, and she shook her head.

‘No, I’m going back to California. Orlando has booked me a helicopter on Thursday afternoon to take me to Geneva airport, from where I’ll fly home. After what’s happened, I can’t wait to leave this place.’

When Valentina returned from helping Marina in the kitchen, she was looking a little brighter, and I did my best to get her talking as well – partly to cheer her up, but also partly to see how genuine her grief might be. I’m a detective and we have to do that sort of thing. Although she appeared a sweet, friendly girl, appearances can be deceptive, and she was definitely still a suspect. I started by telling her about the Americans at the bar.

‘Did you hear that Paolo had to tow a pickup out of a snowdrift?’ She shook her head and I related the story, noticing that William and Fiona across the table were listening in. I went on to relate what Paolo’s mum had said about the men being mineral hunters, and this definitely stirred a spark of interest in Valentina.

‘Presumably, they’d been looking for minerals in the old mine.’

I decided to capitalise on her evident interest in her pet subject to keep her talking. ‘What sorts of minerals would these guys have been looking for in an old iron mine?’

There was definitely more animation on Valentina’s face when she replied, and I was secretly delighted that my choice of topic appeared to have taken her mind off her father’s death – at least for now. ‘Where there’s iron, there are all sorts of other minerals. This whole area of the Alps is very diverse from a geological perspective, and I’ve found some lovely examples of magnetite, diopside and vesuvianite, as well as semi-precious gemstones like garnets. After dinner, I can show you my collection, if you like.’

I thanked her and expressed my enthusiasm to see what she had found – although the names had meant little or nothing to me. The fact that I had been able to shake her out of her apparent grief so relatively easily made me wonder how sincere her tears had been. Had I been talking to an incredibly deceptive murderer?

Any further discussion of rocks was interrupted by the arrival of Marina with the news that Paolo had returned from ferrying the Carabinieri to their Land Rover and that he would be coming out with the pasta course in a few moments. In the meantime, she brought bottles of a different red wine for us to try – this time Dolcetto. Although I was initially concerned becausedolcein Italian means sweet, this wine was a full-bodied, dry, fruity red, to me not dissimilar to a Rioja – but what do I know?

The pasta course turned out to be lasagne and it was predictably excellent. This was followed by a delicious stew, not dissimilar to what I had had with my polenta at lunchtime. I could feel my belt tightening and I managed to summon the self-control to say no to a tiramisu afterwards. I glanced down to where Oscar was sprawled on the floor at my feet. His eyes were closed, but his nostrils were whiffling with interest, and the expression on his face was one of martyrdom that he had been left out of the feast. Not that he had done too badly. From time to time, he had wandered under the table to the other side and I had noticed both Fiona and William handing him down succulent pieces of meat. Unlike me, he didn’t wear a belt – and that was probably just as well.

After dinner, Valentina repeated her invitation to me to come and see her collection of mineral samples, so I followed her through to what she called the games room. This contained a massive TV screen, a pool table, a dartboard, a gaming computer, a pile of board games in boxes and, over to one side, a large glass-fronted cabinet. In this was a sparkling collection of crystals and other pieces of rock.

Valentina talked me through the collection – all of which she said she had either found herself or obtained by trading with other enthusiasts in the valley. Among these were the specimens she had mentioned at table. Magnetite turned out to be pyramid-shaped black crystals sticking out of a shiny dark-silver stone,and she demonstrated its unique property by picking up a teaspoon and approaching the sample with it in her hand until it was suddenly sucked from her grasp onto the rock. It really was magnetic. Diopside and vesuvianite crystals were different shades of green, and garnets varied from a light orange to a ruby-red colour, and I discovered that Pian dei Granati, where I had had lunch, was named after these little gems. She clearly knew her stuff and I found her explanation clear and interesting. What was more interesting, however, was what she said at the end.

‘As I think I told you yesterday, the mine down the valley from here produced reasonable-grade iron ore for the first half of the twentieth century, but the arrival of cheaper imports resulted in it being closed down. I’ve been in there, searching around, and I’ve found traces of copper – but not in viable quantities – as well as pyrite, fool’s gold.’ She pointed to a very impressive-looking lump of large golden crystals in the display case that certainly would have had me fooled, but then she said something that set a little bell ringing in my head. ‘Some Americans even came knocking on the door a few days ago claiming they wanted to reopen the old mine. Personally, I think they’re wasting their time, but they were desperate to do a deal with my father for the mining rights. As you can probably imagine, he sent them packing. Nothing was going to be allowed to spoil the peace and quiet of what he called his little piece of paradise.’

My head was buzzing. How many Americans were there around here with an interest in minerals? I felt pretty sure I knew the answer to this one. Assuming that the two beardies in the pickup were the same Americans who had expressed interest in reopening the mine – and that seemed highly likely – the fact was that their crashed pickup proved that they had been in the vicinity at the time when Valentina’s father had died. Could it bethat I had just been handed another possible motive for murder and two completely different potential perpetrators?

I pressed her for more information. ‘Did you see the two guys when they came to see your father? Can you remember precisely when that was?’

She gave me a curious look but answered my questions willingly enough. ‘What’s today… Tuesday, right? Then it would have been last Friday morning, late morning. As for a description of them, I only saw them briefly, but I’m sure I would recognise them anywhere. They were both big guys with bushy black beards and they arrived in a red pickup.’ She gave me a searching look. ‘Where are you going with this?’ She gave a little gasp as realisation dawned on her. ‘Do you think they might have been involved with my father’s death? Do you think they killed him?’ Her voice tailed off as she contemplated the enormity of what she had just said, and I offered a few calming words.

‘It may just be a coincidence. They probably had nothing to do with it.’

She looked me in the eye and I read shock, horror and growing anger on her face. ‘But maybe they did.’

Maybe they did indeed – or maybeshedid and she was just a talented actor.

15

WEDNESDAY MORNING, 22 DECEMBER