Page 4 of Murder at Christmas

‘Wow, that was unexpected.’ Anna’s tone mirrored my surprise – and wonder.

What we were faced with was a remarkably flat area of grass, rocks and scrub, at least the size of three or four football pitches, bordered on both sides by steep, rock-strewn slopes that stretched up to forbidding cliffs and snow-covered crests high above us. Straight ahead of us, the terrain continued to slope upwards, gently at first and then increasingly steeply until it, too, ran into steep cliffs at the base of a snowclad mountain, shaped like a lopsided pyramid.

Running down through this open area was a mountain stream that started way up at the snowline. The ribbon of water snaked down the slope around massive boulders and over impressive waterfalls, and even from this distance, I could see the ice that had built up on the rocks around the falls. I had no doubt that even my water-loving Labrador would be likely to find that stream decidedly chilly. I now realised the significance of the name of the valley. Pian delle Marmottetranslated as the plateau of the marmots, and I had been wondering how anywhere in the mountains could have been described as flat. Now I knew.

‘What a beautiful place – I thought we were going to be squeezed into the bottom of a narrow valley, but this is quite something.’

As I spoke, I spotted the villa and couldn’t miss its Alpine heritage. It was positioned roughly in the middle of the flat area and, as I had seen on the Internet, it was a large building. I could now see that it had three floors, a gently sloping roof, and wooden balconies at most of the windows. The roof was covered with massive stone slabs, and the overall impression was one of solidity and rustic charm. I wondered when it had been built and how much it might have cost. This was no little holiday cottage by any means.

I glanced across at Anna. ‘Whoever owns this place must have deep pockets!’

She nodded in agreement. ‘You can say that again.’

Anna then repeated the question that we had been asking ourselves on and off over the past few weeks ever since the invitation had arrived. ‘I wonder who else is going to be here. Who is this mysterious friend of hers who’s in fear of his life? Might he be an actor? Do you think we’re going to be mixing with a load of Hollywood people?’

All I could do in response was to shrug my shoulders and set off again. I followed the track to the front of the villa where we found a brand-new Range Rover, a bright-red Ferrari and a couple of other luxury cars as well as a pickup and a battered old Land Rover. I parked my VW minivan between the old pickup and the Land Rover. I know my place…

It felt even colder up here than it had back at the restaurant and I was glad of my jacket as I opened the back door for Oscar to jump out. Our breath came out in clouds and the gravel beneath our feet didn’t crunch – it was frozen solid. Oscar didn’t seem in the least bit worried by the cold and immediately headed for a convenient rock, where he cocked his leg, sendingan olfactory signal to all dogs in the area that he now took possession of the valley. The sun had disappeared behind the surrounding mountains and it was noticeably darker down here than up on the mountain peaks, but then security lights burst into life, illuminating the parking area and the front of the villa.

‘Buongiorno, signori. Benvenuti a Villa Delle Coppelle.’

I looked around to see a man approaching us from the front door. He was just wearing jeans and a sweatshirt and he didn’t look in the least bit cold. I had a feeling I was looking at the friendly barista’s son, and he no doubt had been born and brought up in these conditions. He was probably in his thirties, he looked fit, and there was a welcoming smile on his face.

I went over, shook his hand and replied in Italian.

‘Good afternoon, my name is Dan Armstrong, and this is my wife, Anna. Are you Paolo?’

He nodded and, after shaking hands with Anna, immediately squatted down to say hello to Oscar, who wandered over, his tail wagging good-naturedly.

‘We’ve just stopped at the bar for a coffee and we’ve been chatting with your mother.’

There was a cavernous woof from behind him, and an enormous dog appeared on the doorstep, studying us suspiciously. Oscar is a big dog, but this thing was absolutely massive. It had a thick black, brown and white coat and was almost the size of a small horse, possibly crossed with a grizzly bear. I exchanged glances with Oscar, and the same thought was probably going through both of our heads: here’s hoping this monster’s friendly.

‘Winston, vieni qui.’

Paolo beckoned, and the dog trotted across to us. I was pleased and relieved to see his tail wagging as he did so. Oscar’s tail also started wagging, and the two dogs performed their essential canine sniffing ceremony before deciding thatthey were going to be friends, rather than enemies. This was just as well, because Winston looked as if he could probably have swallowed Oscar whole. I queried what breed he was and received the information that he was a cross between a Bernese Cattle Dog and a local breed of mountain dog whose name meant nothing to me. One thing was for sure: he was huge.

3

MONDAY LATE AFTERNOON

‘Dan, Anna, you’ve arrived. How wonderful.’

I recognised the voice even before I turned around. It was Selena, and she came hurrying over to hug and kiss Anna and me before enveloping Oscar in her arms under the puzzled gaze of Winston the giant. Jumping back up again, she subjected us both to a long, searching look before nodding a couple of times.

‘Yes, marriage definitely seems to be treating you well. Dan, you look positively hunky and, Anna, you look gorgeous.’

I had no illusions as to the limited degree of hunkiness I might or might not possess, but it was kind of her to try. As for her description of Anna, I totally agreed. I scrutinised Selena in return and this confirmed my conviction that she must have discovered some magical way of turning the clocks back. She didn’t look a day older than when I had last seen her at the film premiere and, if anything, she appeared even younger, her skin positively glowing, and her mass of blonde hair not exhibiting any signs of grey – unlike my hair, which was rapidly becoming two-tone. Still, I told myself, in her line of business appearance was everything, whereas for me, more often than not, it helped if I just blended into the background.

Selena caught Anna by the hand and led her off towards the house, while Paolo and I grabbed the bags and followed. The two dogs brought up the rear.

The temperature inside the house felt sub-tropical in comparison to outside – even hotter than the restaurant – and I hastily pulled off my jacket and hung it on a coat rack by the door, noting as I did so that there were a dozen or so coats already hanging there. It would appear that we weren’t the first to arrive. The hallway was large, the floor made up of wide wooden boards, and the ceiling supported by huge timber beams. The walls were hung with Christmas decorations and pine branches, and there was a wonderful scent of resin in the air. A paper star hung from the light and the whole impression was one of rustic, seasonal charm. Paolo told me to leave the bags in the hall and he would see that they got to our room. He pointed straight ahead to where Selena and Anna were just disappearing from sight at the end of a corridor.

‘The others are in the lounge. It’s along there.’

I thanked him but, before setting off, I thought I would take advantage of his local knowledge to find out a bit more about where we were. ‘Tell me, Paolo, whose house is this?’

He looked mildly surprised that I didn’t already know this. ‘It belongs to the Viviani family.’ Seeing the blank expression on my face, he added a bit of explanation. ‘Signor Bartolomeo is the head of the Aquila Sports empire.’