Chapter 15
It snowed most of the night but it must finally have stopped some time before dawn because when I looked out of the window at eight o’clock, I was confronted by a real winter wonderland scene.
Even though it would be at least another hour before the rising sun peeked over the top of the mountains and reached down as far as the villa, it was already remarkably bright as the light was reflected up from the pristine covering of snow all around.
I didn’t need the icicles hanging from the eaves to tell me that I was going to need my full Arctic gear this morning.
Suitably wrapped up, I kissed Anna, then Oscar and I made our way downstairs.
Two familiar faces greeted us in the hall.
One of these was Paolo, in the process of pulling on his jacket.
Beside him was Winston, and Oscar and I both received a friendly wag of the tail from the big dog, who appeared to have rallied after the death of his master. Paolo looked relieved to see me.
‘That’s great timing, Dan. Would you mind taking Winston out with you? I’ve got a load of stuff to do. I’ve fixed the plough onto the front of the snowcat and I’m going to clear the track so that the police can get up here under their own steam from now on.’
‘Of course, no problem. I’ll be glad to. Any news?’
He shook his head. ‘Nothing, except that the weather people got it wrong again. They’re now saying that today and tomorrow are going to be like this – sub-zero temperatures, but clear and sunny. My favourite kind of weather.’
‘That sounds good. No further communication from the police?’ He shook his head and I went on to tell him what I had learnt from Valentina last night about the Americans and the mine. I saw him register the possible significance of this to the inquiry.
‘Would you like me to give Luigi a call and pass that information on to him? Come to think of it, I can even give him the registration number of their pickup. The snowcat has a dashcam, and it’ll be on there.’
This was very good news, and I beamed. ‘Excellent. Please would you do that and ask him if he can keep you informed once he’s managed to speak to Gallo, the property developer?’
Paolo nodded in agreement. ‘You don’t think it was an accident, do you?’
My answer came spontaneously. ‘Don’t ask me why, it’s only a hunch, but you’re right; something’s telling me that it was murder, and I know I need to keep investigating.
Now that Bartolomeo’s dead, I suppose my commitment to him is over, but he paid me for four days of my time, so I feel duty-bound to see if I can dig up the truth.
I understand from Selena that she’s flying out tomorrow, but what about the others – are they staying for Christmas after everything that’s happened? ’
‘It’ll just be family. Calogero and Cinzia Naselli were supposed to be leaving today, but they’ve put that off until tomorrow, and Ingrid can’t wait to get away.
She’s desperate for the track and the roads to be cleared so she can jump in the Ferrari and head back to her friends in Turin.
She’s giving William a lift with her.’ He grinned at me.
‘I hope he’s feeling brave. Vincenzo used to say that she drives like a maniac. ’
I changed the subject. ‘Have you seen Orlando today?’
Paolo glanced over his shoulder, but we were alone.
‘He came down and went out half an hour ago, when it was only just getting light outside. He told me he needed some air. Marina and I’ve been worried about him.
He hardly said a word yesterday. It was as though he didn’t believe his father was dead – but something must have happened in the night.
When I saw him this morning, his whole demeanour had changed.
I think it’s finally sunk in, and he looked completely gutted.
Considering how things were between him and his father, I’m surprised it’s hit him so hard. ’
‘Talking of his father, did Bartolomeo have a drink problem? He seemed to be knocking back a lot of grappa on Monday night.’
‘He never used to have a problem, but this month, he’d really been hitting it.
As far as I could tell, he hardly did any work over the last few weeks and he spent most of his time hunkered down here with a bottle and a glass.
’ He caught my eye as a thought occurred to him.
‘I suppose he might still have been drunk from the night before when he went up on the boulder and fell off. I find that hard to believe because he was in meetings all morning, but it’s a possibility, isn’t it? ’
At my feet, Oscar gave a little whine to indicate that he needed an urgent toilet break, so I turned to the door.
I was pleased to see that Paolo had bolted it overnight, and when I opened it and followed Oscar outside, the cold air almost took my breath away.
I pulled the end of my scarf out of my jacket and wrapped it across my nose and mouth.
Oscar, on the other hand, still appeared completely impervious to the cold.
When I think that he was born and bred in Tuscany, where we regularly have temperatures in the mid-thirties in the summer, it speaks volumes for the resilience of the breed that they can take extremes of heat and cold quite literally in their stride.
The first thing I did – because I’m a detective and that’s what we do – was to make a circuit all the way around the villa, checking the snow for footprints.
I found a beautiful set of tracks made by a deer, or maybe something a bit more exotic like a chamois, but no traces of human activity.
Of course, this didn’t definitively mean that nobody had left the villa or attempted to enter it during the night, because if this had happened while the snowstorm had been at its height, their tracks would probably have been covered, but it gave me reassurance of a sort.
I set off along the track down the valley with the two dogs.
Miraculously, Oscar had located his precious stick, even though it must have been buried under a snowdrift, and he had a fine game of fetch.
Winston, on the other hand, just trudged stolidly through the snow, watching Oscar’s antics with a slightly puzzled expression on his hairy face.
Paolo’s snowplough had done a great job of clearing – or at least scraping – the deep snow off the track and it was fairly easy to walk on, although I had a feeling Ingrid’s Ferrari wouldn’t be going anywhere today.
Whether it would be safe for me to drive my van on remained to be seen – maybe with the snow chains fitted.
By the time I reached the point where the little path forked off towards the site of Bartolomeo’s death, I was beginning to warm up, although the temperature felt lower than ever.
The path was a lot harder to negotiate. Away from the cleared track, I found myself trudging through snow that was well over a foot deep.
It wasn’t easy walking because the surface of the snow had been frozen hard, but when my weight landed on it, my feet kept breaking through the crust, and I lurched rather than walked most of the way down to the huge boulder.
When we got to the crime scene – and I was increasingly thinking of it as a crime scene – I made a circuit of the rock but, again, found only animal tracks.
I toyed with the idea of trying to scramble up to the top, but the access gully was now completely packed with fresh snow.
I could see that it would be difficult and risky to try, and I wondered if Paolo might have been right about the fall being caused by alcohol.
I carried on, starting to circle back towards the villa.
When I was about halfway, I spotted a figure coming towards us.
It was Orlando, and I silently rejoiced.
This looked like my opportunity to have a serious talk to him without fear of interruption.
Winston and Oscar trotted over to greet him, and I followed at a steadier pace.
As Paolo had said, Orlando looked terrible, so I tried to adopt a cheery tone. ‘Good morning, Orlando. Out for a breath of air? It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?’
He stopped in front of me and nodded. ‘I had to get out of the house. The thought that my father is lying dead up there creeps me out.’
I thought it tactful not to tell him that his father’s body was actually out in the cold storage area and offered a few consoling words.
‘It must be very tough to lose your father. I’m so sorry for you and Valentina.
’ While I spoke, I studied him surreptitiously.
He was high on my list of possible suspects, but he certainly looked as if he was genuinely grieving at last. This could of course have been guilt rather than grief, but there was no doubt that he did look bereft.
He looked up from the dogs at his feet, and I could see that his eyes were red-rimmed.
‘He and I didn’t get on.’ His tone was subdued, his shoulders slumped.
If he was playacting, he was a good actor.
‘At the end of our session with Selena and her agent yesterday morning, he and Naselli sat down for a meeting together, but I was excluded and I’m afraid I reacted badly and stormed off.
’ He stretched out his hands in the air in a pleading gesture.
‘Do you know what my last words to him were? I told him to go to hell.’ His voice cracked and his eyes dropped once again. ‘And now he’s dead.’
I felt genuinely sorry for him, but because I’ve met some really talented actors in my time, I remained sceptical but tried not to let it show in my voice.
‘We all sometimes say things we regret, Orlando. Don’t let it get to you.
’ I decided to put him on the spot. ‘I’m starting to think that your father may have been murdered.
’ His head jerked up, his eyes now wide and staring at me as I went on.
‘Do you have any idea who might have done it? Is there anybody you can think of who might have wished him harm?’