Chapter 3 #2
‘What a handsome dog. My mum and dad have always had Labs, and he reminds me so much of Angus, my constant companion when I was growing up. What’s his name?
’ She had a lovely soft Highland Scottish accent and a friendly face, although I sensed an undercurrent of melancholy below the surface that I wouldn’t have expected to find in someone her age.
What, I wondered, might she have to worry about? The same thing as her father-in-law?
I shook her hand and introduced Oscar by name before turning my attention to her husband. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Orlando.’
He reached out, mumbled, ‘Good afternoon,’ in American-accented English, and shook my hand, but it appeared to be a struggle for him to produce a smile.
He didn’t look as careworn as his father or wife, but he looked fed up.
Was he fed up with us because he felt we were effectively gatecrashing a family party, or was there another reason why he looked less than convivial?
Because I’m a detective, and that’s what detectives do, I immediately found myself wondering if his wife’s aura of unhappiness and his less than ebullient attitude might be linked.
I didn’t have time to dwell on the subject as his father was already leading Anna – his hand still on her arm – and me on to other guests, this time a couple who looked like the oldest people in the room, the man maybe in his early seventies. Once again, the family resemblance was strong.
‘This is Umberto, my brother, and his wife, Gloria.’ Did I imagine it, or was there a hint of antipathy in Bartolomeo’s voice – towards the brother, the wife or both of them?
Unlike his brother, Umberto had a bushy white beard, an unruly mass of white hair making him vaguely reminiscent of a picture of Beethoven I had once seen, and his choice of clothing was very different too.
He was wearing a chunky white woollen jumper – the sort of thing Scottish fishermen wear in TV adverts – and unmistakably carpet slippers on his feet.
Gloria, on the other hand, was style personified.
She was probably twenty years younger than her husband, and she looked very elegant with her glossy dark hair and glittering gold earrings.
I’m no expert on women’s fashions – or men’s, for that matter – but even I could tell that the ruby-red dress and the gold jewellery she was wearing hadn’t come cheap.
Despite her opulent surroundings, she looked far from happy.
Just like Orlando, there was little of the Christmas spirit to be seen in her, and I wondered why that might be.
We shook hands, and Umberto shot me an enquiring look.
‘So, you are friends of Selena’s. Are you in the movie business as well?
’ He might look like Captain Birdseye, but his eyes were sharp, and his command of English and his Oxford accent with only the slightest hint of Italian lurking in the background were impressive.
This was no old duffer by any means. I was about to answer when Selena, at my shoulder, spoke up.
‘We met in Florence a couple of years ago. I was there making a movie, and Dan and Anna were helping with all the historical stuff. Anna teaches Renaissance history at the university. We became close friends because of our shared interests.’
This appeared to satisfy Umberto, but it served only to confirm my suspicion that Selena was deliberately keeping my principal occupation a secret. I didn’t have time to ponder this at length as Bartolomeo was already pointing out another couple, his hand still lingering on my wife’s arm.
The man looked as if he was in his mid-forties, his wife probably still in her thirties.
They were looking a bit stiff, not completely at ease.
The man was wearing a formal dark-blue suit, collar and tie, and there was what might have been perspiration on his forehead.
He looked fit, and I vaguely wondered if the sweat was because he had just come from the gym.
His wife was a good-looking woman with long chestnut-brown hair hanging around her shoulders and she, too, was elegantly dressed. Our host made the introductions.
‘This is Calogero Naselli, our Head of Accounts, and a key member of the company.’ In case I didn’t know, he added a few words of explanation. ‘Aquila Sports, you may have heard of us.’
I hastily assured him that, not only had I heard of the company, but I actually owned one of their jackets and a pair of their ski boots.
He beamed. ‘Excellent. Hopefully, you’ll get a chance to use them. They say there’s snow on the way.’ Pointing to Naselli’s wife, he continued. ‘And this is Signora Naselli.’
He barely glanced at her, and I felt sure I saw a shadow of annoyance flit momentarily across the woman’s face before she held out her hand towards Anna and me. ‘My name’s Cinzia.’ She spoke in Italian, so Anna replied in her own language.
‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cinzia.’ She pointed out of the windows. ‘Isn’t this a magnificent setting?’
Cinzia Naselli didn’t have a chance to respond as our host was already on the move again, dragging Anna with him.
In a very short space of time, he introduced us to a stern-faced woman named Ingrid and a nervous-looking young man named William but didn’t specify their connection with the family or the business.
Finally, we came to a young woman who looked as if she would rather have been outside than inside.
This, Bartolomeo announced, was his daughter, Valentina.
Valentina was probably about ten years younger than her brother, say in her early twenties, and she, of all of the people here, was definitely dressed for the Alpine conditions.
She was wearing a white roll-neck beneath a dark-blue fleece, unsurprisingly sporting the Aquila eagle logo on her left breast, and tight-fitting jogging trousers.
She had long blonde hair tied back in a simple ponytail, and her face was tanned.
She looked fit, healthy, and even more fed up than her brother.
Whether this was just because she longed for the great outdoors or because somebody here was getting on her nerves remained to be seen.
Still, she produced smiles and a handshake for Anna and me, and a broader smile when she spotted Oscar.
She dropped to her knees to pet him and a couple of seconds later was almost knocked over as Winston, the massive hound, decided to show his affection by climbing all over her.
She and the two dogs ended up in a heap on the floor, but this cheered her up no end, and she was soon laughing out loud.
Having now completed the introductions, Bartolomeo finally released his grip on Anna’s arm and asked us if we would like something to drink. Although the idea of a cold beer had distinct appeal, I knew there was something more urgent that I should do.
‘That’s very kind, but I need to give Oscar a decent walk first. He’s been stuck in the van all day. Would you mind if he and I slip out and stretch our legs?’ I glanced at Anna. ‘Will you be all right on your own?’
She knew exactly what I meant and she gave me a reassuring wink. ‘I’ll be fine. I can look after myself. You go off with Oscar.’
Bartolomeo, apparently oblivious to the significance of our brief exchange, addressed his daughter, who was still having a wonderful time wrestling with the canine grizzly and Oscar on the floor.
‘Valentina, would you like to go with our guest and make sure he doesn’t get lost?
And take Winston with you – he loves being outside, and I have to look after my guests here.
’ He cast a decidedly predatory eye towards Anna, but Selena stepped in, taking him by the arm and leading him off – but not before she had shot me a surreptitious wink in her turn.
Clearly, she had worked out what sort of man our host was.
Valentina jumped to her feet with alacrity and gave me a big smile.
‘Come on, the light’s almost gone, so we don’t have much time before it gets completely dark.
’ Her smile broadened into a grin. ‘And when it gets dark around here, believe me, it gets dark.’ Her English was amazing, with a totally convincing educated British accent.
If I hadn’t known, I would never have suspected that she was Italian.
I thanked her and looked down at Oscar, who was rolling about on the floor. ‘Feel like a walk, Oscar?’
That is what’s known as a rhetorical question. He was on his feet and out of the door before I had time to wave goodbye to Anna.