Page 25 of Murder on an Italian Island
‘We’ve located his ex-wife, and the local police are interviewing her this evening, but she claims she hasn’t seen or heard from the victim for three years or more. Otherwise, all we’ve found so far is a cousin living in Livorno who says he hasn’t spoken to either of the brothers for thirty years. It appears that they weren’t a close family.’
The waitress returned with our drinks, and I waited until she’d left before continuing. ‘Did you manage to locate the farmer, Ernesto Morso, who sold Aldo the land?’
‘We’ve located him, but it didn’t do us any good. He died two months ago. I’ve just spoken to his son, Fabio, on the phone, and he’s going to call in here to see me any moment now. He lives not far from here.’
Only a few minutes later, as we were still discussing the case, a tall, slim man wearing full cycling gear appeared and stepped off a very smart, bright-yellow mountain bike. He rested it against a big, terracotta vase, climbed up the steps to the terrace and came over to our table. The inspector waved him into a seat, and I was in the process of getting up to leave them to it when Fontana shot me a quick smile and indicated for me to stay put. He shook hands with the new arrival, and we all sat down.
‘Thank you for coming so quickly, Signor Morso. We’ll try not to take too much of your time. We just have a few questions about your father and, in particular, his relationship with a man called Aldo Graziani.’
Fabio Morso pulled a couple of paper napkins out of the dispenser on the table and wiped the sweat off his brow. He was probably in his late forties, and he was wearing dark glasses. There was a serious expression on his face as he answered. ‘Aldo Graziani was responsible for my father’s death.’
The inspector raised an eyebrow. ‘He killed your father?’
‘In effect, yes.’ Morso had an educated accent. ‘Five years ago, Graziani forced my father to sell him a valuable piece of land – what is now Graziani’s campsite just along the coast from here. It was a productive vineyard, and it had been my father’s life’s work to establish it and nurture it. I could hardly believe my ears when he told me he’d sold it. Ever since then, he’s been on the decline, and he often said he had nothing left to live for. The official diagnosis was that he died of lung cancer two months ago, but I know it was of a broken heart.’
‘When you say Aldo Grazianiforcedyour father to sell, in what way? Are you talking about physical intimidation?’
Morso shook his head slowly. ‘I honestly don’t know the details – my father always refused to speak about it. I’ve been living in Rome for twelve years and I only come home every now and then. I travel a lot and in fact, I’ve spent most of the last three years living and working in Brazil. I’m a scientist. Under the circumstances, I didn’t see my father that often and we didn’t talk a lot, but I’m sure Graziani didn’t subject him to physical violence. He would never have dared – my father was a big, strong man. It must have been some other form of coercion.’
‘Such as?’
‘I’ve been trying to work that out. My mother died eight years ago, but I’ve spoken to friends of my father here on the island as well as to my cousins who live in Santa Sabina, but nobody’s been able to shed any light on it. Everybody agrees that the vineyard was my father’s pride and joy, but the fact remains that he sold it to Graziani for a fraction of its true value.’
Virgilio and I exchanged glances. The word that was going through my mind was blackmail. It sounded as though Aldo Graziani had had some kind of hold over Ernesto Morso. If so, what might this have been?
The inspector continued with more questions, but without any further success. I kept a close eye on Fabio Morso as he answered and, although everything he said sounded clear and logical, for some reason – call it an old copper’s hunch – I was left with the feeling that he hadn’t told us everything. Could it be that he did know the true reason why his father had been blackmailed by Graziani, but had decided not to reveal it?
On the inspector’s instructions, the waitress brought him a large glass of water and Morso drained it in one gulp. It was still a very hot day, and Elba certainly isn’t a flat island. Presumably. he was a fit man to venture out on a bike. I asked him about his time in Brazil – more to let him talk, so I could get a better feel for the man – and he told us he was an anthropologist at La Sapienza, the famous university in Rome, and he had been studying the indigenous tribes of the Amazon. He said he was here for a few weeks’ holiday and then he would be heading back to Rome to prepare for the new semester. He sounded sincere but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t telling us everything.
After he had disappeared off to his bike, the three of us looked at each other for a few moments before Fontana commented. ‘I have a feeling that gentleman knows why his father sold the land to Graziani. The fact that he isn’t revealing this to us tells me it might be shame or embarrassment – maybe his father had a dirty little secret – but I’m convinced there’s more to it than meets the eye. What did you two think?’
Virgilio nodded in agreement. ‘To me, it sounds like Aldo Graziani was blackmailing his father, and I agree that the son probably knows what it was all about. He struck me as an intelligent man so he can have been under no illusions that not answering fully in a murder investigation could get him into trouble so, whatever it was, it must have been serious. What did you think, Dan?’
‘I agree with both of you. I’ve just been doing a bit of calculating. Graziani bought the land five years ago. Around about the same time three other things happened: Tommaso Graziani, the two brothers’ father, died; Aldo had the affair with a married woman which resulted in him getting a broken nose and effectively being banned from the village of Santa Sabina; and his wife divorced him. Could there be a link between any of these events and Aldo’s death?’ I looked across at the inspector. ‘Did Virgilio tell you the story of Aldo’s affair with Veronica Piccolo? Did you manage to track her down?’
‘We’re still looking. Sergeant Gallo’s going to interview the woman’s ex-husband this evening. Maybe he’ll be able to shed some light. We’ll ask him if anybody can confirm where he was and what he was doing last night, although it seems unlikely that he would have waited five years to murder Aldo. I suppose there might be a link, but it’s tenuous.’
I had to agree. ‘If it turns out that Aldo’s ex-wife and the husband of Veronica Piccolo have alibis, that leaves us with Fabio Morso, who might have decided to take revenge now that his father has died. Alternatively, maybe it was a woman – like his ex-wife or Teresa the PA, for example. There’s definitely something about her I don’t trust.’
Fontana nodded in agreement. ‘Sergeant Gallo feels sure the PA was having an affair with Aldo and he could well be right. Maybe they were together, but then it turned ugly and she took her revenge. I could see her being capable of committing murder.’
I brought up the other hypothesis. ‘Of course, there’s always the Etruscan connection. If Aldo was digging up and dealing in antiquities, might he have been killed for profit, by a rival, or even to shut him up? In a close-knit community like Santa Sabina, I find it hard to believe that he could have been carrying out archaeological excavations without somebody noticing. I wouldn’t mind betting that he was the subject of the ongoing TPC investigation.’
Fontana nodded. ‘That could well be true. I’ll be speaking to the twoCarabinieriofficers later on, so I should know more by tonight. The fact is that both brothers managed to make themselves unpopular on the island. It strikes me there are a number of people who are going to be opening a bottle ofspumantetonight to celebrate the death of this brother, just as I’m sure a lot of people were glad to see Ignazio meet his death.’
We carried on talking and Inspector Fontana asked for my help. ‘First thing tomorrow morning, I’d like to interview all of the guests here at the hotel. As far as I can see from the file, they’ve only had token interviews so far, just checking where they were at the time of the first death. I’d like to know more about them. Some of them speak Italian but others don’t. Virgilio tells me that you’ve helped him in the past with interpreting and, as my English is non-existent, if you could spare the time from your windsurfing course to help out for an hour or so, I’d be very grateful.’
‘My course doesn’t start till ten-thirty so maybe before that? But either way, I’d be pleased to help. I can be available any time.’ Hopefully, Anna would forgive me yet again for allowing police work to interfere with our holiday.
He thanked me and told me he would arrange the interviews with the non-Italian speakers to begin at nine o’clock so I could get off to my course in good time.
I was looking forward to the opportunity of speaking to the guests who were, after all, still potential suspects in the death of the first brother. As for the second murder, it was clear that Aldo Graziani hadn’t been that much more popular than his brother, but it was hard to see why anybody should have waited five years to kill him if his death was somehow related to his womanising past or his divorce. Hopefully, good solid police work, interviewing suspects and checking their stories would provide us with some answers because, for the moment, I didn’t have any.
Apart from anything else, we still had no idea whether we were looking for one murderer or two.
16
TUESDAY NIGHT
