Page 7 of Murder at the Ponte Vecchio

We found five people waiting for us in a large, high-ceilinged room with what looked like a genuine medieval stone fireplace – presumably sourced from an antiquarian – and a gleaming shield and two crossed swords mounted on the wall above the mantlepiece. The furniture was sturdy and traditional in design, mostly polished wood and leather. Oil paintings of Tuscan scenes lined the walls, and the floor was composed of pink marble tiles, strewn with fine-looking rugs. Whoever had furnished the place had obviously been a traditionalist.

The family was seated on two large, leather sofas: two men and a woman to our right and a couple to our left. They all looked as if they were in their thirties or forties. A bearded man on the right-hand sofa rose to his feet to greet us as Marco held up hiswarrant card. Like so many Dutch people, the man with the beard spoke fluent English with just a bit of an accent.

‘Good morning. My name is Casper Berg. David Berg was my father.’ He pointed to the woman beside him and the man seated alongside her. ‘This is my wife, Helga, and my brother, Luuc.’ He looked across towards the other sofa. ‘That’s my sister, Emma, and her partner, Guido.’ Again, maybe it was just me, but I felt I could identify distaste in his voice when he mentioned the name of his sister’s man.

As agreed with Marco, I stepped forward and introduced the two of us to them. ‘This is Inspector Innocenti of the Florence police and my name is Dan Armstrong. I’m British, but I live here now and I’ll be helping with the language.’

Casper Berg nodded and indicated a pair of armchairs. We sat down and I was pleased to see Oscar follow me over and take up station at my feet rather than try to jump onto anybody’s lap. As Marco began to talk, I translated automatically and studied the family members more closely while I did so. Casper Berg, with his bushy, black beard, was probably in his late forties and was presumably the eldest of the siblings. He was tall and solidly built. His brother, Luuc, looked several years younger, and he had broad shoulders and strong forearms, while his sister, Emma, was quite a bit younger, maybe around thirty-five or -six. Her partner, Guido, was of a similar age. He had immaculately styled, dark hair, his clothes fitted him perfectly, and he had the superior expression of a man who knows he looks good. Emma was also good-looking, but not as attractive as Casper’s wife, Helga, who appeared to be the youngest of the bunch, in spite of being married to the oldest sibling.

Marco broke the news to them that their father’s death was being treated as murder, and I kept a close eye on the faces around me, looking for any signs of guilt. I saw none, but,interestingly, nobody in the room appeared to be particularly saddened by the death of the old man. Marco must have picked up on this, as his next question was one that I would have asked myself.

‘Please can I ask how relations were between you all and Mr Berg?’

First, it looked as though Casper was going to answer, but his sister, Emma, spoke up before him. ‘I think “non-existent” sums that up.’ She spoke almost perfect English with a hint of an American accent. Marco asked her to elaborate and she did. ‘He left us and divorced our mother when I was seven years old. That was almost thirty years ago and I hadn’t seen him or heard from him since then until I received the invitation a month ago to come here.’

‘And how did you feel when your father left home?’

She looked him square in the eye. ‘How do you think it made me feel? He abandoned us. I was puzzled, unhappy and bitter.’

‘And was that the same for all of you? You’ve had no contact with your father for thirty years?’ All three siblings nodded and Marco continued. ‘You all received invitations to come here?’ The heads around us nodded again. ‘And were you all equally estranged from him?’ Again, the nods. ‘Was this because of the divorce?’

Casper answered this time. ‘Thirty years ago, our father took up with an Italian woman and abandoned us without a backward glance. I’m sure you can imagine the effect that had on our mother and on the whole family. He left Amsterdam for Italy, severed all links and I, for one, had no desire to see him again after the way he’d treated our mother – and us.’

‘What about your mother? Does she still live in the Netherlands?’

‘Our mother passed away four months ago and, yes, she’d been living in Amsterdam, like the rest of us.’

‘So the invitations to come here suddenly appeared out of the blue after thirty years?’ I echoed Marco’s amazement in my voice as I translated his words. ‘Did he give you a reason? After all, you answered the call, so presumably this was in response to something in his invitation.’

Emma nodded. ‘The reason we all answered his summons is money, plain and simple. He told us he wanted to discuss our inheritance.’

Her brother, Luuc, spoke for the first time, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a letter, which he unfolded. He was a fit-looking man with close-cropped, dark hair, but his face was weary. Mind you, if he’d driven here from Holland, he had every right to look tired. He also looked displeased – whether at the death of his father or the intrusion of the police was hard to decipher.

‘Our father indicated that he’d become a very wealthy man and he instructed us to come and hear how he intended to divide his estate.’ He added extra emphasis to the wordinstructedand I deduced that this might be the explanation for his apparent displeasure. Presumably, he hadn’t wanted to come at all.

He continued, ‘All three invitations are identical and written in Dutch, but I can give you a translation into English if you like.’ He also spoke excellent English. In response to Marco’s nod of the head, he gave us the translation and I relayed it to Marco in Italian. The invitation was short, formal, and brief to the point of rudeness. A couple of lines struck me as I listened to the translation. These were,I am aware of my advancing years and I need to get my affairs in order,and,I have amassed a considerable fortune and I wish to inform you of how I intend to distribute it.

The invitation was simply signed,David Berg, your father. No terms of endearment. Icy cold.

Marco and I exchanged looks before he continued with his questions. ‘How were relations between you and your mother?’

Luuc answered. ‘We loved our mother dearly. She was treated terribly by our father, and we all stuck by her to the very end. Of course, there was no word from our father when she died.’ His expression visibly softened when he mentioned his mother, but when he spoke of his father, it darkened. His brother and sister nodded in unison and Marco asked for more information.

‘Your father had a jewellery business here in Florence. What did he do when he lived in the Netherlands?’

Casper answered. ‘The same. He had three shops in the centre of Amsterdam. Luuc, Emma and I still work there now.’

‘So your mother was well provided for.’ Casper nodded reluctantly, and Marco tried another question. ‘What about the woman he divorced your mother for? Is she still around? Have you met her?’

Luuc answered first, almost spitting. ‘We haven’t seen her and we have no desire ever to see her.’

They all shook their heads and Emma made a suggestion. ‘Like Luuc says, we’ve never met her. If you want to know more about her, you probably need to ask Ines. She’s worked here for almost twenty years.’

‘Ines is the woman who showed us in?’

‘Yes, she’s the housekeeper.’

‘When did you all arrive here?’

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