Broken Chord (11 page)

At one o’clock on the dot lunch was served. Marta might have been shocked, and shaken to the core, but she was going to make sure that some semblance of normality was preserved in the house. Mealtimes had always been meticulously observed and they would continue to be so.

The family were allowed to be together with a police officer present to take notes. It had been explained to them that the only alternative was to take them all down to the
Procura
. No one discussed the murder. The children chattered and were the only ones to behave with any kind of normality. As they ate, most of them with little appetite, Guido was upstairs in the study with Dragonetti. He had been traced to the hotel and brought to the villa by police car, something which had totally freaked him out. All his questions had been answered with a stony silence. At the villa he saw several police vehicles and an ambulance but realising questions were useless, he had given up and asked nothing more. Ushered into the studio he was introduced to Dragonetti. Despite a feeling of nauseous apprehension, he couldn’t help admire the other man’s taste in clothes and just adored his longish black hair with the silver threads at the sides. He was a wearing a similar linen suit himself today, in tobacco brown with a pale beige shirt. His interest in other people’s clothes was so automatic that it superseded everything else. He ran a complacent hand down his jacket front as though to confirm the quality of the material. Dragonetti brought him back to earth with a thud.

“Do you know why I’m here?”

He longed to say something silly like, ‘I haven’t the foggiest idea’, but from the other man’s demeanour he understood it was something really serious. He replied, “I can only imagine something really bad has happened.”

“But you don’t know what.”

“Of course I don’t. I presume you are about to tell me. If it’s drugs then it has nothing to do with me. I don’t do drugs.”

“No, it’s not drugs.”

“Tell me. Get it over with. I don’t really understand why I’ve been brought here rather than to the
Procura
. What’s happened?”

“It concerns Ursula von Bachmann.”

Guido opened his mouth and then shut it again,

“I’m sorry to have to tell you that she is dead.”

“Dead! Ursula! But that’s impossible!”

“Why?”

“Because, because… I don’t want her to be dead.”

To Dragonetti’s consternation the man burst into raucous sobbing.

He waited until Guido had got himself under control before asking “Where were you last night?”

Guido looked at him in astonishment. “Why do you want to know?” His brain seemed to grapple with the question for a few minutes before he burst out with, “Are you saying she was murdered?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my God!, my poor Ursula.” Tears began to flow again.

“Where did you spend the night?” insisted Dragonetti.

“In a bloody hotel, the same one that your fascist underlings took me from, in front of everyone, in broad daylight as though I was some kind of criminal.”

“Which you may well be.”

“You can’t possibly think I killed her. My dear man, I faint at the sight of blood. Anyone will tell you.”

“I didn’t say there was blood.”

“But you said she was murdered. How did she die?”

“It was a violent death.”

“Violent! Oh God!”

“You had an argument with Ursula yesterday.”

“A lover’s tiff.”

“Enough to warrant you sleeping in a hotel.”

“It was nothing. I sent her roses this morning.”

“Yes, I saw them.”

“You haven’t said where Ursula was killed. I presume it was here in the house or you wouldn’t be here.”

“Yes, that’s correct. Would you care to join the family for lunch?”

“What! Do you mean to say that Ursula’s dead in her bed and they’re eating!”

“I didn’t say she was in her bed.”

“Where then?”

“I prefer not to say at the moment. I’ll have you escorted to join the family in the dining room. You certainly don’t have to eat if you don’t want to, it’s up to you but like the rest of them you might feel it’s as well to keep your strength up.”

Guido didn’t seem to feel this warranted a reply. He pushed back his chair, scraping it hard on the floor and stood up, seemed to totter slightly for a moment, gave Dragonetti a glance as though to say ‘you don’t know how crass you are’, and then made a dignified exit. Quite a performance! Drago thought Guido was what used to be called a fop. The mocking words of an unfinished Mozart opera,
Lo Sposo Deluso
, suddenly popped into his mind:

Yes, the perfect husband, so good-looking and such an Adonis! He suppressed a smile. Perhaps he was also a good actor and a murderer to boot.

In the dining room the family sat awkwardly, talking very little and then mainly to the two children who, unaware of their grandmother’s death, were chattering happily. When Guido appeared in the doorway there was a unanimous intake of breath, in horrified surprise that the man that most of them suspected of murdering Ursula should be present at a family meal. Guido was no longer part of the family in any case, not now. Ursula’s death had put him outside the circle. Piero, who had been forced to sit and eat with the family, and was quite unaccustomed to eating with them, rose awkwardly and said, “Please take my place. I don’t have much of an appetite today.”

“No thank you. I’m not hungry either. I’ll just sit quietly here.” He plopped down on a chair set against the wall and ostentatiously blew his nose. Conversation, which had been limited before, now ground to a halt. Piero, who had remained standing, asked the policeman, “Would it be alright if I went down to make coffee for everyone? I can take the dirty dishes with me for the women to see to.”

“Yes, just you.”

A gelid silence greeted this announcement and Piero began collecting the plates and putting them on a large tray. He left the room and as one person had been allowed to go, Isabella remarked, “I think the children might like to leave the room too. They usually have a nap after lunch.”

“I’m sorry, the bedrooms are out of bounds at the moment. As soon as they give the word you can go up, not before.”

Everyone became aware of noises in the hall. Teo blanched again as he realised that Ursula was leaving the house for the last time. He gave an anguished look at Lapo, who grimaced.

Marianna said, “I think you’ll probably be able to go up quite soon Isabella, just be patient. We haven’t had coffee yet anyway.” She put her hands on the table, played with a knife, and then seeing they were visibly trembling, put them out of sight on her lap again.

The presence of the children, and the policeman, were both in their way extremely effective at limiting the conversation, but even the children finally became aware that something was quite wrong.

“Mummy, I want to go to bed, now.” whined Camilla.

“Soon darling. We just need to wait a little longer.”

“Why? I’m tired.”

“Because we haven’t had our coffee yet,” answered Teo. “Look, there’s your books over there, sit quietly and read for a while.”

“We don’t know how to read,” said Arabella.

“I know, but you can look at the pictures and pretend. Make up a story for your sister.”

They waited until Piero came back with the coffee and they all seemed grateful for the excuse of actually speaking, passing the sugar and making a pretence that this was a normal day and a normal after lunch coffee. The noises in the hall had finally terminated and after a short while, a policeman came in and whispered to Officer Tardelli. He looked over to Isabella and said, “If you would like to take the children up now, you may, but just you, please.”

“Of course.” Isabella rose hurriedly, and was out of the room in an instant, holding her children’s hands as though their lives depended on it.

As soon as they had gone, the others began speaking all at once. Teo managed to calm them down and with a glance at the policeman, who kept his gaze firmly fixed on them, said, “Alright. This is the situation. Mother’s dead. She’s been brutally murdered here, in the house, in her own bed. What does that mean? Was it a burglar or had someone got it in for her?”

“We haven’t been allowed to see if anything is missing.”

Marianne said, “The police say we must all go through the house later and make a list of anything that’s missing.”

“Alright, if it was a burglar, how did he get in? Did anyone hear anything?”

They all shook their heads.

“What time did you come in, Lapo?”

“About four.”

“And you, Marianna?”

“I didn’t go out.”

“Sorry, I thought you must have done since you got up so late.”

“Where would I go? Roberto’s at death’s door in the hospital, if you remember.”

“Ah, Roberto, of course,” he said the name with distaste, “but you do have other friends.”

“Well, I didn’t go out with them last night.”

“Did either of you hear anything?”

“No, but we don’t know when she died, so maybe when I came in it was all over.” Lapo’s breathing sounded wheezy. “Teo, did you see her?”

“Yes,” said Teo shortly.

The policeman coughed and said, “Dottor Dragonetti would prefer you not to talk about the manner of your mother’s death.”

“Oh would he,” said Lapo. “Don’t you think we have the right to know how she died?”

“Of course. He will be the one to decide when.”

“I don’t understand all this secrecy. Was there something strange about her death? Was it some kind of sadistic satanic ritual or something?” Lapo asked facetiously.

Teo had a ghastly flashback of his mother’s terrible blue eye hanging from its socket and lying on her pulped face. He shot to his feet, his hand over his mouth. He brushed the policeman aside and ran along the corridor to the lavatory.

Lapo’s breathing got worse and he reached for his spray. Marianna said, “From Teo’s reaction it can’t have been very pleasant.”

“Teo throws up at the slightest thing, he always has done.” Lapo puffed the spray into his mouth and inhaled with difficulty.

Guido watched them all in horror. “None of you seem really upset about poor Ursula.”

“No, Guido, that’s why Teo’s throwing up and I’m wheezing. We’re totally unaffected. Did you think you’re the only one who’s touched by her death, though of course we all realise her death affects you in a more, shall we say, tangible way. What a shame you didn’t manage to get her to the altar before… all this.”

“The Town Hall.” corrected Marianna.

“She was never going to marry you anyway. What was that monumental row about yesterday? Had she finally seen through you and realised what a little piece of scum you are?” spat Lapo.

Guido appealed to the policeman, “Can’t I wait somewhere else? You can see how unpleasant they’re being and I don’t deserve it.” His voice was petulant.

“I bet you were so pissed off with her that you came back and did it. You knew she’d never marry you so you went mad and killed her.”

“I didn’t!”

“Well, it wasn’t one of us.”

Teo came back into the room. He looked paler than ever. “How long have we got to stay shut up here for?”

As he spoke the door opened and Dragonetti came in. He looked at them and said, “Ursula von Bachmann’s body has been removed from the house. Your rooms have been searched and certain items of clothing have been taken away. I will need a detailed statement from each of you regarding your movements last night, and after that your fingerprints will be taken. Then you are free to leave this room, but not this house, for the moment, with the exception of Signor della Rocca.”

“Good, I don’t want to stay here.”

“And we don’t want him here. I don’t understand why you had to bring this murdering scumbag into our house,” said Lapo.

Guido gasped, “You little shit. How dare you.”

“He won’t be staying here,” said Dragonetti firmly.

“May we know how our mother died?” asked Lapo.

“Not until I have the results of the autopsy.”

“You mean you don’t know?”

“No. It isn’t possible at the moment to say which of her injuries was the cause of death.”

“Oh my God!, What kind of a state was she in?”

Teo whimpered and put his hand to his mouth.

“There were several injuries.”

“It must have been a madman,” said Guido, as though that exempted him.

“Possibly.”

“Or someone who’d gone mad because mother had thrown him out. Eh Guido, did you decide to get your revenge?” Lapo wheezed.

Guido’s mouth fell open.

Teo said, “I hope the police make a thorough investigation into you, your life, your means of employment and your movements last night. You’re a filthy piece of work and if you killed our mother, you’ll pay for it.”

Guido stood up and looked at them, “Why do you all hate me so much? What did I ever do to you?”

“Signor della Rocca, if you would like to come with me, I’ll take your statement and then you’ll be accompanied to your hotel where my men will search your belongings and take anything they need for forensic analysis.”

“What does that mean? Are you looking for blood? Well you won’t find any.” Guido turned to the others. “Whatever you think, I loved Ursula and I didn’t kill her.”

He left the room with Dragonetti and the family drew together, united by their feeling that Guido was the man who had murdered Ursula. Piero, who’d remained silent, asked, “Could I give my statement first? There’s a lot I need to do.”

“If it’s up to us, of course,” said Marianna, “but I rather think that it’s out of our hands. From now on we can only do what they allow us.”

“Until they catch whoever did it and that won’t take long. We all know who’s responsible,” Teo said firmly.” It won’t take them long to prove it.”

“Guido isn’t a fool you know. He’s hardly going to leave blood-stained clothing in his hotel room. He’s had stacks of time to get rid of anything incriminating,” Marianna stated.