23
THURSDAY EVENING
Signor Silvano’s birthday party was a very smart affair. Signor Silvano himself turned up in a white tuxedo and all of the other staff were wearing their Sunday best. Rita was looking particularly glamourous in a striking red and blue gown and Elvis, the night porter, put in an appearance in an antique double-breasted dinner jacket that emanated such a strong smell of mothballs that Oscar dissolved into fits of sneezing every time he came close. The lounge had been decked with flowers and there was a terrific spread of nibbles on trays to one side. Antonio and Annamaria, the serving staff, came around with trays of champagne and we all toasted the octogenarian.
Rita gave a fine speech, outlining the history of the hotel, complimenting Signor Silvano on his business acumen and thanking him on behalf of all the staff for being a good and fair boss.
He replied with a few words, being very complimentary about everybody, particularly Rita, before being interrupted by a fit of coughing. After a couple of mouthfuls of champagne to calm the cough, he finished his brief speech and immediately went outside for a cigarette.
I left Anna talking history with Professor Scott of the University of London and wandered around the room, mainly following Oscar to make sure he didn’t get too insistent with his begging for the tasty snacks. I chatted briefly to the chef, complimenting him on his prowess, and then found myself alongside Elvis.
I had only ever exchanged a handful of words with him, seeing as he came on duty late at night and went home very early in the morning, and I remembered Virgilio telling me that Inspector Fontana had said that his interview with him had produced nothing of interest. While Oscar positioned himself on the far side of me so as to be out of range of the mothballs, Elvis and I chatted a bit and I discovered that we shared a hobby – or at least he was fully invested in it, while I was very much a beginner. When I told him I’d been doing a windsurfing course, he launched into what was clearly his specialist subject and he was soon giving me valuable advice on the best way to gybe and water start. Considering that my final windsurfing session was going to be next day and I had pretty much given up all hope of performing either of these procedures, I listened with interest but knew that he was probably wasting his breath on me.
Things got a bit more interesting when he started talking about his childhood here in Santa Sabina. I finally managed to bring him around to the subject of the Graziani brothers, mentioning that I’d heard he used to work for Aldo at the campsite. A sour expression appeared on his face.
‘I worked for Aldo’s father for ten years and then for four years after his death while Aldo more than quadrupled the size of the campsite. I started the windsurfing academy and built that up for him. But then…’ He took a mouthful of champagne but showed no sign of even tasting it.
I gave him a gentle nudge. ‘But then…? Didn’t things work out?’
He drained the last of the champagne in his glass and for a moment, I thought he might be about to dash it into the fireplace, but he restrained himself. ‘But then he fired me.’ His tone was bitter.
‘After fourteen years, that must have hurt. Why did he fire you?’ It occurred to me that Elvis might have been nurturing his resentment at being fired for four long years until it had suddenly erupted on Monday night. Might this good-looking young man be a murderer? It seemed highly unlikely that he would have waited so long, but I filed it away as another thread in this increasingly complex case.
‘It was that woman, Teresa. She had a thing for me, and Aldo caught us kissing in one of the chalets… Well, a bit more than kissing, to be honest. He threw a tantrum and fired me on the spot.’ He looked up from his hands, straight into my eyes. ‘But he didn’t fireher.’
‘And why do you think that was?’
‘Why do you think? He was trying to get her into his bed, and, from what I’ve heard, he succeeded.’ He caught my eye and winked ruefully. ‘I doubt if she put up too much of a struggle.’
‘So that’s when you came to work here at the Augustus?’
He nodded. ‘And I don’t regret it one bit… Well, between you and me, there is one thing I regret.’ I had to wait for him to continue but I concentrated my attention on Oscar and let Elvis take his time. When he finally spoke, it was in a stage whisper. ‘Rita, she’s my big regret.’
‘You don’t like Rita?’
‘The opposite.’ He took a surreptitious look around to check that he wasn’t being overheard. ‘We’re the same age and she was my childhood sweetheart. I really thought we’d get married someday – and I thought she felt the same way. That’s why I stayed on the island when she came back after university. I could have done a lot better for myself on the mainland but I wanted to be near her. Working at the campsite wasn’t too bad. I only saw her now and then and it didn’t hurt too bad, but working here means I see her every day and that’s tough.’
‘Tough because she doesn’t share your feelings?’
I saw him nod glumly.
‘Why do you think that is? Is there somebody else in her life?’
He shook his head ruefully. ‘Nobody. It was all going fine until we were almost fifteen, and then she just switched off.’
‘Switched off?’
‘She lost all interest in me… or any other boy – and there were lots of them after her. As far as I can tell, she’s been like it ever since.’
At that moment, Virgilio appeared at my elbow and led me outside so he could talk. There was a satisfied expression on his face – the same sort of expression that appears on Oscar’s face when I give him bacon rinds.
‘I’ve just taken a call from Piero. They found the murder weapon hidden in the bushes: a metal tube. You might be interested to hear that it’s a piece of windsurfing equipment. There’s blood on it and they’ve just got the results of the DNA testing and there’s no doubt that the blood belongs to Aldo and the DNA at the other end of the weapon belongs to Fabio Morso. We’ve got him.’
I pumped his hand in triumph. There could be no doubt now. The murderer of Aldo Graziani had been caught. Of course, that still left the unanswered question of Ignazio.
We went back inside to give Anna and Lina the good news. By this time, Anna had stopped talking to the professor and was standing with Lina. I thought she was looking tired so I suggested we go and sit down. People were beginning to drift away by this time so the four of us went out onto the terrace and sat down at our usual table.
Rita appeared two minutes later with a tray of champagne and insisted that we help ourselves once more. In view of what Elvis had just told me, I took a closer look at her. She was definitely a good-looking woman and I wondered why she had turned her back on her paramour. It occurred to me that maybe, like Ingrid at the windsurfing school, she had discovered that she preferred members of her own sex, but that was none of my business and I made a deliberate attempt to get my mind onto less personal matters. I started by asking Lina what she wanted to do the next day – our last day here on the island – and she produced an interesting answer.
