Page 26 of Murder at Christmas

‘As Bartolomeo put it, we prefer not to wash our dirty linen in public. When I said that the effect of the news being leaked could be catastrophic, I wasn’t exaggerating. Aquila has grown so much that we’ve started the process to become a public company, floated on the stock exchange, and our future shareholders would be understandably appalled if they thought us so incompetent. We’re already treading a very fine line financially, and something like this – if made public – could put off floatation of the company for months, years even. The fewer people who know about this, the better. I hope you understand and agree.’

I nodded again. ‘I agree. I give you my word. My lips will remain sealed, but I must reserve the right to reveal this information to the appropriate authorities if it becomes relevant in a murder investigation.’

He jumped as if I had struck him. ‘Murder?’

‘It’s one of a number of options.’ He was still looking incredulous, but I pressed on. ‘Now, am I right in thinking that you and Signor Viviani had a meeting to discuss the subject of the missing money yesterday morning?’ I didn’t wait for him to nod his head. ‘Was anybody else involved in this meeting?’ Heshook his head, but I needed to be sure. ‘What about Ingrid? She is a partner, after all. Surely she should have been involved.’

A shiftier expression appeared on his face, and he lowered his voice even more. ‘Bartolomeo thought it better not to involve her… for various reasons.’

It wasn’t too hard to read between the lines. ‘Because you suspect that her husband might have been responsible for the embezzlement?’

Naselli glanced around warily, but there was nobody within earshot. ‘Keep your voice down.’ I had to wait a few seconds while he made up his mind how much to tell me. ‘Again, in the strictest confidence, it would appear that since Vincenzo’s unfortunate death less than a month ago, no further money has gone missing. It’s potentially a very sensitive issue, and that’s why Bartolomeo insisted on the meeting involving only him and me – he didn’t even want Orlando involved, at least, not yet.’

‘When do you hope to reach your conclusions about the identity of the thief?’

I saw him wince at my use of the word ‘thief’. His answer, when it came, was cautious.

‘It’ll take time. We managed to whittle it down to a handful of people but, without a fuller forensic examination of every single transaction, it’s impossible to be more precise at the moment.’

‘But you think you will be able to find out sooner or later?’

‘I would hope so, but it’s obviously been done by somebody who has gone to great lengths to cover their tracks.’ He looked up at me, eyes wide. ‘Do you think there might be a connection between the missing money and Bartolomeo’s death? Do you think he might have taken his own life because of it? I suppose anything’s possible, but he wasn’t really the type.’

‘Thank you for that. Other people have said the same thing about him, so if we discount the idea of suicide, we’re leftwith a tragic accident, or something altogether more sinister – murder.’

‘Surely it was an accident, wasn’t it?’

‘That certainly appears to be the most likely explanation at the moment, but I feel I owe it to him to be absolutely sure. Could I ask you another question? Obviously, you must have known his former partner, Vincenzo Mazzini, well. In your heart of hearts, do you believe he could have been the embezzler?’

Calogero took his time over replying. When he did, he sounded uncertain. ‘Signor Viviani and I discussed that possibility at length yesterday morning, but without reaching a conclusion. Vincenzo certainly had free access to the accounts and he was a very skilled operator, so we had to accept that it was a possibility – even if neither of us wanted to believe it. Hopefully, our investigations will be able to prove or disprove that before long.’

‘Thank you. Another question – would I be right in thinking that Signor Viviani was a ladies’ man? Do you think there’s any chance that one of his paramours or somebody connected with one of them might have decided to take revenge on him for something?’

I saw him explore the concept for a few seconds before answering, a harder expression now on his face. ‘It’s true that he did have a voracious appetite for the opposite sex and, to be perfectly honest, on occasions, this definitely interfered with his ability to run the company.’ Calogero glanced around furtively again. ‘I saw him fondling Selena Gardner on Monday night and it occurred to me that they might be lovers. I suppose it’s possible that Selena or a jealous husband or a former lover might be behind this, but I’m afraid I can’t possibly give you any names.’

I filed this information away for future reference and changed the subject. ‘Were you aware that there was a proposal to transform this valley into an Alpine resort?’

‘Yes, but Bartolomeo didn’t take it seriously. I urged him to consider it, because it would without doubt have produced a healthy income stream for him that could have been used to shore up the company’s current cash-flow problem, but he was vehemently against it.’

‘And did you know that he was approached a few days ago by some people interested in buying the mining rights to the old mine? Again, this could have generated some very welcome cash.’

He shook his head and, from his expression, I definitely got the feeling that this had come as news to him. ‘No, he didn’t mention that. A pity. That’s what the company needed, still needs, an injection of capital, not just to replace the missing million euros, but to allow us to consolidate and expand.’

I registered the amount. A million euros would be more than enough incentive for somebody to resort to drastic means to avoid being discovered. Maybe Bartolomeo really had been murdered by somebody in the company who had had their fingers in the till. One thing was for sure – there was no way Vincenzo, his former partner, could have killed him from beyond the grave, but maybe the not-so-grieving widow?

I glanced at my watch. It was half-past nine. ‘I won’t keep you much longer. Before I leave you in peace, I’d like to ask you something a bit more sensitive. I quite understand that this might put you in an awkward position, so if you don’t want to answer, just say, but it could prove to be important. What about his family? Do you think any of his family members might have been responsible for his death?’

Calogero looked understandably shocked. ‘You mean Orlando, Valentina or Umberto? Absolutely not. No question ofit. Yes, Orlando and his father had a fractious relationship, but there’s no way he or his sister would have stooped to murder. And as for his brother…’ He crossed himself superstitiously. ‘Dear God, no.’

‘Thank you. Can I ask you the same question about the other people here at the villa at the moment? What about the widow of his recently deceased partner or his newly appointed personal assistant? Do you think either of them might have been prepared to do something like that?’

I had to wait for an answer and, for a moment, I got the impression he might have been about to make a suggestion but then thought better of it. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know either of them well enough, but I would be horrified if that were the case.’

I closed my notebook and stood up. ‘Thank you, Signor Naselli, you’ve been very helpful. My apologies for interrupting your breakfast.’ A thought occurred to me. ‘I seem to remember your wife telling me that you two are supposed to be leaving today, but Paolo believes you’re staying until tomorrow. Is that right?’

He nodded his head. ‘In light of Bartolomeo’s death, I owe it to Orlando to stay on at least until tomorrow to help him deal with all the administrative headaches his sudden promotion to senior partner has thrown up.’

I was secretly very pleased to hear this. Until it could be confirmed whether Bartolomeo’s death had really been an accident, it made a lot of sense for all the suspects to be kept here. The Carabinieri hadn’t stipulated this, but if I’d been the investigating officer, I would have insisted upon it. Of course, I reminded myself – not for the first time – I was no longer DCI Armstrong, calling the shots.