Page 35 of Murder at Christmas

I did my best to digest what he had told me. Could this possibly be true, or was this an attempt by the real guilty party to muddy the waters by accusing an innocent man?

I pressed him for more detail. ‘How did you manage to uncover the embezzlement? I thought you were Bartolomeo’s PA, not in Accounts.’

He shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea what Signor Viviani’s previous PAs did – probably spent their time sitting on his lap or painting their nails – but I quickly realised that there was very little for me to do. I’ve always been interested in figures so I started taking a closer look at the books.’ He looked across at me. ‘I wasn’t doing anything untoward; Signor Viviani gave me his permission. Anyway, I gradually began to realise that there was something wrong, and that big sums of money had been disappearing.’ He went on to outline in technical financialterms what he’d done and how he’d come to the conclusion that Calogero had been stealing the money. I followed most of it, but not all of it, and it sounded convincing. If I hadn’t been told about his sudden departure from his previous job, I would have taken it at face value. As it was, I decided to tread cautiously.

‘And when you realised that money was going missing, you went to Orlando, not your boss. Why was that?’

‘I only realised the extent of it a few days after Vincenzo Mazzini had been killed, and Signor Viviani had convinced himself that he would be next. As a result, he more or less closeted himself away and started hitting the bottle, big time. I knew there would be no point in going to him with something like that, so the next best was Orlando. To be honest, I like Orlando and I felt I would get a more sympathetic reception from him, and I’m glad I handed my findings to him. He took the information to his father, and the two of them had an awful row as a result. It sounded as if Signor Viviani was blaming Orlando for what we had discovered. Talk about shooting the messenger!’

‘I see.’ I gave it a few moments and then moved on to the more sensitive issue. ‘As part of my investigations, I’ve been looking into the backgrounds of all the people at the villa, and I’ve come up against a query alongside your name. I gather you left your previous job rather suddenly. Why was that?’

‘You’ve been checking up on me?’ He sounded shocked.

I did my best to sound reassuring. ‘I’ve been checking up on everybody, William. It’s my job; it’s what I do. So what happened there?’

By this time, we had reached the turn-off for San Giorgio and I had to wait almost until the first hairpin before he decided to explain. ‘The constituency manager has a daughter, Annabelle. She and I started going out together, but her father was dead against it. He wanted to marry her to a lord or an earl or something, not a young staffer like me. When he found out, hestarted shouting at me right there in the middle of the office. I’m afraid I lost it and I told him in no uncertain terms where he could stick his job.’

I suppressed a smile. ‘And what about Annabelle?’

He didn’t smile. ‘She decided to do as Daddy told her, and the last I heard was that she’s now going out with a Conservative MP almost twice her age who’s almost certainly going to lose his seat at the next election. Good luck to the lot of them.’

If this was a made-up story, William was good at thinking on his feet – or, rather, on his one good foot – but it should be easy enough to confirm. Assuming that he was right and the money had been stolen by the Head of Accounts, could it be that Calogero had killed his boss in order to prevent his stealing from being revealed? I found myself tending to believe William and I knew that the next item on my agenda was to sit down and talk first to Orlando and then to Calogero Naselli. The unwelcome thought occurred to me that he and Cinzia were supposed to be leaving today. I hoped I wouldn’t arrive back too late.

23

THURSDAY MORNING

When we got up to San Giorgio, it was to find that Paolo had done an excellent job of clearing the track. There was still a thin covering of snow on it, but it had been compressed down by the snowcat and I felt sure that my van would have no real trouble negotiating it, even without snow chains. Whether Ingrid’s beloved Ferrari or the other luxury cars would manage to do it remained to be seen. I asked William what car Calogero had brought and he told me it was a dark-blue Lancia saloon. It came as a considerable relief as we approached the villa to see the Lancia still parked there. The bird had not yet flown.

I gave William a hand to get out of the Land Rover and onto his crutches. When we got to the front door of the villa, Valentina appeared with a welcoming smile on her face, gave him an affectionate peck on the cheek and helped him make his way down the corridor to the lounge. I spotted Orlando by the lounge door and indicated that I needed to speak to him in private. It occurred to me that I still had Bartolomeo’s keys in my pocket, so I handed them to him and suggested that we go and speak in his father’s study, where we wouldn’t be overheard. There was an amusing moment inside the study when it lookedas if he was about to sit down on the wrong side of the desk, but I pointed across to his father’s chair and reminded him that this was now his. He gave me an awkward smile and sat down. I sat down opposite him and immediately launched into an account of what I’d been told by William.

I kept my eyes on his face while I talked and I got the feeling that this wasn’t totally unexpected news. When I reached the end of my account, he nodded a couple of times before replying.

‘I’m afraid that confirms my suspicions. Whoever took the money had to be in a senior position in the company, skilled at moving money about and expert at covering their tracks. It really had to be Calogero, but I couldn’t prove it. He’s been with the company for a long time, and my father point-blank refused to believe that he could have had a hand in it. In consequence, Father even sat down with Calogero to try and discover who’d been doing it – against my advice. In this way, he immediately revealed that we’d found out about the missing cash, and it would have given Calogero extra time to cover his tracks.’ He gave a frustrated sigh. ‘I’m afraid ever since Vincenzo died, my father started acting really strangely. He used to be such a smart and committed businessman, but he completely lost it over the last few weeks. The only things that seemed to interest him were alcohol and women.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Do you know something? He even propositioned Fiona the other day. He had no shame.’

Although it was looking pretty clear that our number-one suspect was now Calogero Naselli, I noted this last remark as being another motive for Orlando to have killed his father. Still, I told myself, one step at a time.

Unaware of my thoughts, Orlando continued. ‘I’ll speak to William and get him to give me precise details of what proof he’s managed to obtain.’ He looked up at me across the desk. ‘Assuming that William has got it right – and I don’t doubt himfor a moment, he’s a remarkably able guy – what do we do next? Does this mean we have to get the Carabinieri involved again?’

I’d been thinking about this. ‘If it’s all right with you, I’d like to suggest that you and I sit down with Calogero this morning and hit him with the facts. Let’s see how he responds. If we’re lucky, he’ll go to pieces and admit, not only to the embezzlement, but also to having pushed your father off the boulder. After that, we’ll have to get the police involved and, although you told me that you didn’t want knowledge of the missing money to be spread about, I don’t think you’ll have much option. We would be talking murder.’ I saw him nod his head in reluctant agreement, and I struck while the iron was hot. ‘First things first, why don’t you go and have a quiet chat to William now? Armed with the evidence that he claims to have discovered, we can then confront Calogero together.’

He got up and left the room. I stood up in my turn and wandered around the study, flicking through papers on the desk without seeing anything particularly interesting. I glanced out of the window and was pleased to see that the sun had now reached the villa. I could actually see drops of water forming on the icicles outside the window, as the air slowly began to warm up. If it carried on like this, I reckoned that everybody, even including Ingrid and her low-slung Ferrari, should be able to get back down the track again without too much trouble.

Orlando had left his father’s keys on the desktop and a thought occurred to me. I picked them up and opened the safe in case there might be anything of significance in there. There was a small pile of banknotes, a few assorted documents and a folder containing what I assumed to be Giorgio Gallo’s plans for the Alpine resort. I pulled this out and studied the plans. It was immediately obvious that it was a most ambitious project that would doubtless have necessitated a multimillion-euro investment. I wondered if Orlando would go ahead with it,given the current financial situation of Aquila. It certainly looked interesting, and I had no doubt that Fiona had been right when she’d said that it would be a dream come true for him. Time would tell.

I replaced the folder, locked the safe again and returned to my seat. Oscar was stretched out on the floor at my feet, looking weary, and he barely raised his head when Orlando reappeared a couple of minutes later, carrying a laptop. Along with him was a stern-faced Calogero. I moved to a chair at the side of the desk, so that Calogero could be seated facing Orlando and me, and pressed Record on my phone, setting it on the desk between us. Orlando, looking serious, didn’t waste time.

‘Calogero, why did you do it? Why steal from the company? We’ve always treated you well, haven’t we? Why do it?’

Naselli’s face was a picture. There was no hiding the momentary look of panic that flooded his face, before he did his best to collect himself and respond, adopting an outraged tone. ‘Steal from the company? Never. How can you say such a thing, Orlando? Your father would be appalled at such a suggestion.’

Full marks to Orlando, his face gave nothing away. ‘I’m sure my father would indeed have been appalled, because that’s exactly what you have been doing.’ He opened his laptop and turned the screen so that both of them could see it. He then launched into a very technical exposition, tapping the screen from time to time with the end of a pencil, but I wasn’t looking at the screen or trying to follow the jargon. I was watching Aquila Sports’ Head of Accounts come to terms with the fact that he’d been caught out. As the seriousness of the situation hit home, I saw his shoulders droop and his whole demeanour change from offended to ashamed. When Orlando finished speaking and sat back waiting for a response, Calogero looked a shadow of his former self. We had to wait for what seemed like an age before he finally responded, his voice almost cracking with emotion.

‘I did it for Cinzia.’ He lapsed into silence again and Orlando and I exchanged puzzled looks. Neither of us said anything and we just waited. Finally, Calogero managed to find the words to explain. ‘Things haven’t been going well between us for some time. She wants children, and I can’t give them to her.’ He actually started wringing his hands, his eyes fixed on his fingers. ‘I’ve seen doctors and specialists, but there’s nothing they can do for me. I know that what I’ve done must seem terrible in your eyes, but I was only trying to make it up to her. She’s always wanted a villa down on the coast, and I needed the money so I could buy that for her. I thought this might at least go some way towards compensating for the lack of a child. I imagine you won’t believe me, but I intended to pay it all back over the next five years a bit at a time, and nobody would have been any the wiser.’

He looked absolutely distraught, and I had to admit that he sounded as if he was telling the truth. Nevertheless, I leant forward and spoke for the first time, adopting my stern DCI Armstrong voice.

‘But Bartolomeo found out about the missing money, didn’t he? You knew that it was only a matter of time before the finger of suspicion would point at you. Is that why you killed him – to silence him?’