Murder in Verona (An Armstrong and Oscar Cozy Mystery #9)

Chapter 20

20

FRIDAY LATE MORNING

We got to the villa at half past eleven and I was pleased to see Alessia’s red Porsche parked outside. Hopefully, this meant that she was home. I spotted Dolores, who told me Violetta was in her apartment and had indicated that she would be lunching in the dining room before a car would come at two-thirty to ferry her to the Agri Argento head office for the board meeting at three. Safe in the knowledge that she wasn’t going anywhere for now, we started with the grieving widow.

Alessia greeted us at the door of her apartment on the top floor and gave a special welcome to Oscar, who was clearly delighted to see her again. She led us into a huge living room and I took a good look around. The mantelpiece was far less cluttered than Violetta’s and the only visible memento of her husband was an identical heart-shaped silver frame with his photo and the words I love you .

Alessia pointed at the French windows leading out onto the roof terrace.

‘Why don’t we sit outside? Make yourselves comfortable while I get us something to drink.’

At this time of the morning, the terrace was shaded from the sun and Ventura and I sat down in wicker armchairs, enjoying the gentle breeze. A few moments later, Alessia emerged with two bottles of cold beer and set them on the table before us. She had even brought a bowl of water for Oscar. I noticed that she opted for orange juice, which was probably a lot more sensible on a hot day, but, after the morning of questioning, a cold beer suited me just fine. The inspector thanked her for her hospitality and decided to get straight down to brass tacks.

‘As you know, we’re investigating your husband’s death, and another theory has presented itself. Given that you also often drove the Jaguar, we have to consider the possibility that your husband was killed by mistake.’

She looked puzzled. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Could it be that the target wasn’t your husband? What if the murderer was after you?’ As he floated this idea across her, I watched her face closely, reading disbelief and then, understandably, fear.

‘Somebody was trying to kill me ?’

‘As I say, it’s a theory we’re considering. I’m afraid this means I now have to ask you if you can think of anybody from your past who might have wished you harm: old boyfriends, professional rivals, anybody basically who disliked you a lot?’

I could imagine all too well the thoughts that must be rushing through her head. Assuming that she had had nothing to do with her husband’s death – and I still considered this to be unlikely in spite of what Romeo had said – being informed that she might be at risk of being murdered must have been at best unsettling and more probably downright terrifying.

We had to wait almost a minute before she replied, shaking her head slowly from side to side as she tried to come to terms with what she’d just been told. Picking up that she was troubled, Oscar got up from my side and wandered over to rest his head against her leg in a gesture of canine support, just as he had done for Tosca. Anna had often said he had missed his vocation and should have been a therapy animal. Alessia looked down and fondled his ears as she attempted a reply.

‘You really think that somebody might have been trying to murder me rather than Rodolfo? But why me? I can’t think of anybody who might hate me to that extent. There are no skeletons in my cupboard that I’m aware of. I was married for three years when I was very young. That ended in divorce when I was twenty-four – that’s thirteen years ago – but it wasn’t an acrimonious divorce and he married again ages ago. We got married too young but were sensible enough to end things before they became unbearable. After that, I’ve had a number of boyfriends over the years but none were very serious and I can honestly say that none of those relationships ended particularly rancorously. As for professional rivals, yes, I’m sure there are some women out there who wish they were doing as well as I am, but I can’t for a moment believe that any of them would actively consider trying to kill me.’

The inspector leant forward. ‘Of course, another motive for murder can be money. Would you mind telling us if you have a will and, if so, what its terms are? What would happen if you were to die suddenly?’

A look of horror appeared on her face and he did his best to offer a little bit of encouragement. ‘We’re sorry we have to ask difficult questions and you don’t need to worry about your safety. I’ll make sure that nothing happens to you. What we’re trying to work out is who could possibly have any motive to wish you harm.’

‘I actually have an appointment with my lawyer next week to sort out my will. Now that I’ve inherited all this money, my accountant is very keen for me to get my affairs in order, but my head’s been in such a spin over the past few weeks that I’m only just getting around to it now. After my divorce years ago, I’m pretty sure I altered my old will so as to leave everything to my parents – at least I think I did. I haven’t seen it for years.’

I saw the inspector absorb this information. ‘Would you be kind enough to contact your lawyer and ask him or her to check? Nothing sinister, I’m just trying to get hold of all the facts.’

Alessia was sounding very vague and it occurred to me that if she hadn’t changed the old will, she might still leave everything to her former husband. And if this were the case, had we just found ourselves with another murder suspect?

Ventura returned to the possibility that she might be in danger. ‘I think it’s highly unlikely that your life is under threat, but for the next few days, at least until you’ve sorted out your new will, could I ask you to take special care? I would suggest that you stay here at the villa as much as possible and if you do have to go out, take somebody with you and make sure that your car is roadworthy before you do. I’m going to talk to my superiors when I get back to the office and, ideally, I’d like to station one or two of my officers here for a few days just to keep an eye on you and Signora Violetta.’

‘Violetta? Might somebody be trying to kill her?’ Alessia sounded bamboozled and I didn’t blame her. I felt the same way myself.

‘We really don’t know but the inspector isn’t taking any chances. Don’t worry, it’ll all be fine.’

As I spoke, Oscar turned his head towards me and I could read the scepticism in his eyes. I’m quite sure he sometimes understands far more than a dumb animal should.

At the end of our interview, just as I was heading for the door, Alessia added a postscript. ‘They’ve told you about the concert tonight, haven’t they? The academy’s Midsummer Concert is an annual event, but this year, it promises to be very special in honour of Rodolfo. I’d be very pleased if you felt like coming along – that’s you as well, Inspector, if you have time.’

Ventura looked pleased to be invited and we both accepted gracefully. Alessia then directed her attention at me. ‘By the way, I phoned Tosca earlier and we had a long talk. I’ve invited her to the concert as well and she’s going to come. Of course, this means she’ll meet her mother this evening, but we’ll worry about that when it happens.’

It was almost noon by the time we left Alessia’s apartment and rang the bell to Violetta’s flat in the corridor across the hallway. The door was opened almost immediately by a woman whose face I recognised from downstairs as one of the cleaning staff. She showed us through to the living room where Violetta greeted us cordially.

‘Good morning, gentlemen, any developments?’

We all sat down and Ventura set out to explain as diplomatically as possible that it was just possible – not likely – that she might be in danger. Understandably, it took some time for the full implications of what he said to sink in.

‘Let me see if I’ve got this right, Inspector. You think that Rodolfo was deliberately murdered so that I would inherit from him, and the murderer or murderers now intend to kill me as well. So what are you saying? As I told you yesterday, Mr Armstrong, in the event of my death I have little choice but to leave almost everything to my daughter, so are you saying you think Tosca killed her brother and now she’s planning on killing me?’ There was incredulity in her voice but also a cold edge to her words as though she maybe didn’t see the allegations as so outrageous after all.

‘We’re not accusing anybody of anything for now, Signora Violetta, but it’s something we’re considering. The other possibility, as I’m sure you can appreciate, is that you might be in danger from your brother’s children keen to take over complete control of the business.’ As daylight dawned on Violetta’s face, he continued. ‘Just as they believed that they would inherit your son’s share of the business when he died – only to be disappointed – it could be they believe it will finally come to them when you die.’

‘Alfredo and Rosina?’ She sounded stunned but, interestingly, quite a lot more surprised than at the possibility that her own daughter might be seeking to take her life. Quite clearly the rift between mother and daughter was far from healed. ‘I can’t believe for a moment that they would do anything so barbaric.’ She looked across at both of us for a moment, her eyes steely. ‘Ingrid, yes, I could believe anything of her, but I can’t see how she could have operated without Alfredo, and I can’t believe that he could possibly be involved in murder or, if you’re right, multiple murders.’

I decided to take a chance. ‘So if you can’t see Alfredo and Rosina as murderers, what about Tosca? I know the two of you quarrelled all those years ago, but surely murder is excessive even in the most extreme of family feuds.’

She looked up at me and there was fire in her eyes. ‘How should I know? I haven’t seen her since she was a child. For all I know, she could have robbed a bank years ago and served a prison sentence by now. The little girl I knew was difficult, argumentative, and rebellious but she wasn’t a murderer. What she’s become now is anybody’s guess.’

‘So you really think your daughter might have killed her brother and might be planning to kill you?’ The incredulity in the inspector’s voice was plain to hear and it must have got through to Violetta as I saw her straighten up and breathe deeply.

‘When you put it as bluntly as that, Inspector, it’s unthinkable. My opinion of my daughter is based on my memory of a spoiled, attention-seeking teenager who had the nerve to insult me to my face and then go off and desert the family home. This doesn’t make her a murderer and it’s wrong of me to even consider such a possibility.’

I was genuinely surprised. Maybe beneath the cold, hard exterior, there might still be some relic of the maternal instinct. I came very close to asking her why she thought her daughter had taken the drastic step of leaving home eighteen years ago but I stayed silent. Now that she was sounding more reasonable, there was no point in stirring things up. Instead, I adopted a reassuring tone.

‘We must stress that these are just ideas for now and you shouldn’t begin to suspect your family. In a murder investigation, we have to consider all possibilities and these are just two. Something else that occurred to us quite recently was that maybe your son wasn’t the killer’s intended victim. Maybe the accident was arranged so as to eliminate Alessia – after all, she also drove the Jaguar. Do you have any thoughts on that hypothesis?’

When Violetta looked up from her hands, the old familiar fire was back in her eyes. ‘I can well imagine somebody like her having made enemies. I dare say there are men and women in her past who hated her enough to want to kill her. I’ll tell you straight – if the result of the accident had been her death, you wouldn’t have found me shedding any tears.’

I hadn’t been expecting sympathy, but the venom in her voice was chilling. For a moment, I once again found myself wondering whether this silver-haired lady might have engineered the whole thing, only to remember that it had been she who had got me involved with the case in the first place. Stifling a sensation of revulsion at such bitterness, I continued.

‘Apart from men or women from her past or their partners, can you think of anybody closer to home who might have wanted to get rid of her? Anybody here at the villa, for example?’

‘Here? You mean somebody on the staff? Surely not. I suppose anything’s possible but I have no idea who that could have been. And as for the students, I can’t believe any of them could do such a thing, but you could try asking Dolores or Clarissa. They have more contact with students than I do.’

The inspector picked up the conversation. ‘If you have any ideas, here’s my card. Please contact me at any time. A word of advice: you have a board meeting this afternoon and I would strongly advise you to take the opportunity to pass on the information to your nephew and niece that, in the event of something happening to you, you intend leaving everything to your daughter. I’d be grateful if you could do it as tactfully as possible and avoid mentioning that I might be suspicious of them. Could you do that, please?’

To my surprise, she smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. ‘Of course, I’ll do that this afternoon. It’s probably time I informed them of how I intend to dispose of my estate. I’m rather looking forward to seeing the expression on Alfredo’s face when I break the news to him that he won’t be getting anything.’

Ventura and I exchanged glances. There was definitely a dark side to this woman.

The inspector got to his feet and thanked her for her time, finishing with the words, ‘As far as any possible risk to you is concerned, it’s my intention to station one of my officers here for the next few days and nights so you can be sure of your safety.’

‘Thank you, Inspector. By the way, have you been invited to the Midsummer Concert tonight? It’s going to be in memory of Rodolfo and I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. I’ve invited his agent, Paolo Ruggieri, and his wife as well. They were very close.’

To what extent Violetta was likely to enjoy the concert when she discovered that her long-lost daughter was going to be there remained to be seen.