I took a mouthful of beer and nodded. ‘I agree. I’m convinced of it as well, but I can’t prove it any more than you can.’
We sat in silence for a minute or two. I felt sure that both of us were thinking the same thing, but I chose to let him say it first. Finally, he made up his mind. ‘Bellini is a fool and if I were his superior officer, I’d give him a kick up his lazy backside. I don’t know about you, but, much as I would like to, I can’t let it go. I need to know what happened.’
I reached over and clinked my glass against his, giving him a broad smile. ‘I’m with you all the way so,Commissario, what’s our next move?’
‘The way I see it, I have a straightforward choice. I can contact theQuestorein Livorno and see if I can get him to intervene, asking him to draft in an officer who’s prepared to put in the legwork. The trouble is that, without any hard evidence, doing that could put theQuestorein an awkward position. That sort of intervention would cause quite a lot of ill feeling – particularly as far as our friend Inspector Bellini’s concerned – and I wouldn’t want to make an enemy of anybody in the force if I can help it. I think you and I need to proceed on this on our own – if you’re sure that Anna won’t mind too much – and carry out our own investigation until we have something concrete. I have a perfectly valid warrant card that I can flash in order to arrange interviews with suspects, although it could get awkward if the word gets back to Bellini’s people. Still, that’s a risk I’m prepared to take.’
‘Anna knows the score and she’s happy for me to get involved. Apart from anything else, it’s a matter of clearing your name.’ We both knew full well that allegations, even unfounded and unproven allegations, can hang about and risk damaging a career. ‘As a private investigator, I have every right to investigate whatever case I want, so why don’t I do the sensitive stuff? The worst that can happen is for the police here to kick me off the island. The way I see it, the first person I’d like to interview is the victim’s brother, Aldo. The more I think about it, the more I believe that he might have been involved. Maybe I could approach him saying that I’ve been engaged to look into Ignazio’s death on behalf of somebody who prefers to remain anonymous. If I put it to him that I’m hoping he can provide me with some evidence that might help identify the killer, that should hopefully reassure him that we’re not coming after him – at least not yet.’
Virgilio nodded in agreement. ‘Sounds good to me. In the meantime, I’ll call Marco and see if he’s managed to find out anything more about our fellow guests. I would really like to sit down and talk to them one by one, but, now that the official line is that Graziani’s death was an accident, that may not be so easy. And some of them may even be leaving in the morning. It would be good to get a feel for the people. You know how it is, Dan; you can tell a lot about someone simply from the look on their face.’
At that moment, the twoCarabinieriofficers appeared and sat down a couple of tables along from us. Virgilio and I exchanged glances, and he lowered his voice. ‘Starting with these two. I think I’ll go and ask them if they can spare me five minutes of their time. It’s probably best if you don’t accompany me as they may not want to talk about their mission in front of somebody they see as an outsider.’
‘Definitely. While you’re doing that, I’ll go up and take a shower. After that, I want to see what I can find out about Aldo Graziani and his campsite.’
After a shower and a change, I opened the laptop and set about checking up on the victim’s big brother. I started by accessing the campsite website and was impressed at its professionalism. Unless Aldo was a computer genius, he had probably paid somebody a lot of money to set this up. I was also impressed by the range of facilities. As well as the large pool and the bar/pizzeria, there were also two tennis courts, a business centre, boasting a high-speed Internet connection, a hair and beauty salon, and two smart, modern shower and toilet blocks, one including a sauna and hot tub. The place had certainly moved on a lot since the days of his father’s little campsite for a couple of dozen tents.
Interestingly, I could find very little about Aldo himself. I couldn’t even find a photo of him and it looked as though he was deliberately steering clear of social media. I didn’t blame him for that, but it made my life more difficult. I found a few articles in the local newspaper and other online news outlets about the campsite but, again, virtually nothing about the owner. Although there were articles about Ignazio’s death, most reported it either as an unfortunate accident or suicide. From what I’d heard today, everybody around here had known about his return to the island and where he’d been for the last twenty years and why, but most of the media had chosen to downplay his past and stick to Inspector Bellini’s verdict of misadventure, no doubt much to the relief of his brother.
Anna had dozed off by this time, so Oscar and I quietly sneaked out of the room and went downstairs to Reception, where I was pleased to find Rita on her own.
‘Rita, can I ask you something? I was talking to some men in the village earlier on and they told me that Ignazio Graziani was hounded off the island twenty years ago. He was making a nuisance of himself with a number of women and might even have attempted to abduct a girl here in Santa Sabina. Does that ring any bells with you?’
She looked shocked. ‘Really? That’s news to me. I was at university on the mainland at that time and I remember my parents telling me that Ignazio had been sent away, although they didn’t go into any detail about why.’ An expression of sadness spread across her face. ‘I’m afraid my mother and father have both passed away now, so I can’t ask them for any detail.’
‘So you don’t know if the attempted abduction story is true or not?’
‘I’m sorry, I know nothing about that at all, but I can ask around if you like.’
I thanked her and brought up the other piece of information I’d gleaned today. ‘I also heard that the victim’s brother, Aldo, has a reputation as a womaniser. Does that sound familiar?’
An expression of distaste appeared on her face. ‘A few years ago, definitely, but he’s been keeping himself to himself more recently. He used to be a terror, quite amoral, and he treated some of the local girls and visiting tourists appallingly, taking advantage of them and then dumping them like rubbish. In fairness, he wasn’t creepy like his brother; he just thought he was God’s gift. It all came to a head when he took up with a married woman.’
Seeing that I wanted more, she continued. ‘It was all very upsetting. It was just after his father’s death when Aldo embarked on a relationship with a woman called Veronica Piccolo, but then her husband found out. There was the most awful bust-up and Veronica’s husband punched Aldo so hard, it broke his nose. Aldo immediately dumped Veronica, and she was so desperate, she left her husband and two children and went off to the mainland. The last I heard of her, she was living and working in Venice. It must have been awful for her and, of course – those poor kids have grown up without a mother – and it’s been very tough for her husband on his own, as you can imagine.’ She sighed. ‘What a mess – and all down to Aldo.’
‘Was he married at that time?’
‘Yes, he’d got married only a matter of a couple of years earlier. Poor woman.’
‘Was that why their marriage came to an abrupt end?’
She nodded. ‘His wife divorced him as soon as the affair blew up.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘Any woman would have done the same. Aldo’s a louse, and he treated her appallingly.’
‘Did she leave the island?’
‘No, she’s originally from Portoferraio and she went back there. I see her from time to time when I’m in town.’
I thanked her again and Oscar and I went out onto the terrace. There was no sign of Virgilio or the twoCarabinieriofficers, so I spent a bit of time checking a possible route from the window at the rear of the first-floor landing, over the top of the outhouse, around the back of the hotel and into the trees. From there, it was easy to see how somebody from the hotel could have made their way out to murder Ignazio Graziani, unseen by the cameras. Even so, I still couldn’t rid myself of the feeling that the murderer might have been his own brother, and I did a bit of calculating. Virgilio had seen Ignazio alive at eleven o’clock, a full hour after the kitchen had closed and dinner had finished for everybody. What had the victim been doing, wandering about on the clifftop half an hour or more after the end of his meal? And where had his brother been?
I went back to Reception and had another word with Rita. ‘Would I be right in thinking that you went off at ten on Saturday night?’
‘Yes, along with the kitchen and serving staff. That’s when the night porter comes on duty. Why do you ask?’
‘I’m trying to work out where everybody was at the time of Graziani’s death. Can you remember if there were many people out on the terrace when you went home?’
‘Virtually nobody, as far as I can remember. Just a minute, let me pull up the CCTV footage for Saturday night. There’s a camera on the terrace that should give us the answer.’
Sure enough, the only people left on the terrace after ten o’clock had been the amorous honeymoon couple, still lost in their own little world, and the table for three containing the victim, his brother and the young woman, Teresa. It was too dark to make out any great detail but I could see that Aldo was smoking a cigar, his brother nursing a glass of red wine and their female companion staring into the distance. I looked up at Rita. ‘Can we find out at what time the Graziani brothers went inside, or did they go straight home?’
