The Devil in Music (45 page)

Next
morning MacGregor ran into Carlo on the terrace. "Ah, Doctor,"
Carlo greeted him. "I was just going out on the lake for some
fishing before the weather changes."

MacGregor
squinted at the sky. "It doesn't look like rain."

"I
can tell by the wind. Winds on this lake are creatures of habit. The
Tivano blows down from the north until noon, then the Breva blows
from the south. This morning the winds are unsettled. It's a sure
sign of rain."

"Had
you better go out?"

"Oh,
it won't come till late in the day perhaps not till tonight. Trust
me: I know the moods of this lake as I do the faces of my children.
Should you like to come with me?"

MacGregor
was tempted. He enjoyed fishing, and it would be a relief to get
away from the tensions at the villa for a few hours. He said
reluctantly, "I'd better not. I want to find out what's become
of Kestrel. He went out first thing in the morning without saying
where he was going."

"He's
probably off on one of his famous walks in the hills."

"Kestrel
never willingly goes anywhere at that hour. He didn't even stop for
breakfast just took a few swallows of coffee and bolted."
MacGregor shook his head forebodingly. "I think it's something
to do with that girl."

"Lucia?"
Carlo shook his head. "Poverina! To fall into the hands of
the Milanese police is a grim enough fate for anyone. But what
chance has a peasant girl against them?"

"She
seemed to look after herself pretty well," said MacGregor.

"She's
a gallant girl. But that will only make Grimani all the more

determined
to break her. Our police show mercy to the craven and submissive the
brave must be made an example of."

"Good
God!" said MacGregor. "Better by far for the poor girl to
tell what she knows of Orfeo, and let him take his chance."

"I
agree." Grimani came up to join them. "Any of you who can
persuade her to that course are welcome to try."

Carlo
translated this for MacGregor, who said, "It isn't as if she's
told you nothing. At least you know now what Orfeo and Tonio fought
about."

"I
know what story she's chosen to tell," said Grimani.

"There's
no doubt that the fight was about Lucia, Signor Commissario,"
said a cool, rather bored voice. "That was evident even before
she was found."

They
all turned. Kestrel was approaching from the direction of the shore
path, his walking-stick tucked under his arm.

"What
do you mean?" Grimani asked sharply.

Kestrel
turned to Carlo. "Do you remember, Signor Conte, when you
showed me the grottos, and I asked you to go up before me and wait
outside the cave mouth? I shouted from the grottos as loudly as I
could, but you didn't hear me."

"Well,"
said Carlo, mystified, "what of that?"

"We'd
been given to understand that Orfeo and Tonio were fighting in the
grottos, and Lucia heard them and ran to fetch her father. But that
was impossible, because however much noise they made, it wouldn't
have reached her outside the caves. It was far more likely she was
with them in the grottos from the beginning. And when two young men
come to blows in the presence of the only female in their midst, the
odds are very good that she is the cause."

"Why
didn't you tell me this?" Grimani demanded.

"I
beg your pardon, Signor Commissario. I didn't suppose my opinions
were of any interest to you."

"That's
never stopped you expressing them before."

Kestrel
regarded him with a faint, enigmatic smile. "As far as you
know, Signor Commissario."

Grimani's
eyes blazed. "If you're keeping anything else from me, Signor
Kestrel, you had better out with it! I won't be trifled with!"

"I'm
not trifling," Kestrel said calmly. "I've never been more
in earnest."

"You
would be well advised not to make an enemy of me."

"I
won't if I can avoid it. But nor will I flee from the honour if it's
thrust on me."

"Take
a damper, man." MacGregor slipped a hand under Kestrel's elbow
to lead him away. He had not understood all their conversation, but
the tone alarmed him. They had had skirmishes before, but this was
different. Kestrel was really angry, and MacGregor knew now why it
was a phenomenon Dipper was afraid of. Who would have thought that
anything so quiet could have such force?

He
and Kestrel crossed the terrace and strolled into the garden. At one
time MacGregor would have peppered Kestrel with questions about why
he was in such a wayward humour, and what had possessed him to put
Grimani on the high ropes. But he had picked up a grain of his young
friend's subtlety. Instead of using his tongue, he used his eyes and
wits. "You've been to see Lucia."

"I
tried. I ran the gauntlet of gendarmes about Ruga's house and spoke
with his wife. She assured me that Lucia has a comfortable room,
ample food, and no greater annoyance than frequent harangues by Don
Cristoforo about her religious duty. I asked to see her, but she
sent back a refusal on no uncertain terms. I could have insisted,
but what would have been the point? No one least of all I will
persuade her to talk, when loyalty and conscience bid her be silent."

"Loyalty
and conscience?" MacGregor said sceptic ally "Say love,
and be done with it."

Kestrel
did not reply, only slashed at the shrubbery with his walking-stick.

"Do
you think Orfeo seduced her?" MacGregor asked.

"No.
By which I mean to imply nothing in his favour, and everything in
hers."

"You're
very taken with her."

Kestrel
shrugged. "I admire her courage and dislike Grimani's bullying
in equal proportions."

"She
certainly took against you."

"She
doesn't trust me. I wouldn't either, in her place." He made a
small, decisive movement, as if shaking off his brooding. "You
must forgive me, my dear fellow. It's rattled me, realizing how
little time I have left to solve this murder. In less than three
days Grimani will call Lucia to account. She won't give in, and the
devil only knows what he'll do to her."

"So
we have to find the murderer by Wednesday night."

"The
murderer or Orfeo."

MacGregor
frowned. "You think Orfeo is innocent, don't you?"

"Of
the murder, yes."

"If
you hand him over to Grimani, it'll most likely be the finish of him,
innocent or not. Doesn't that trouble you?"

"Yes,"
owned Kestrel wryly. "But Orfeo has got himself into this fix,
with his hole-and-corner appearing and disappearing. If it comes to
a choice between him and Lucia, I shall hand him over to Grimani
trussed and ready for roasting."

MacGregor
felt a shiver down his back. "What are we going do now?"

"I've
been standing too close to this puzzle looking at the parts instead
of at the whole. I need to take stock of what we know so far, and
what we need to find out." Kestrel smiled. "In short, my
dear fellow, there's nothing I should like so much as to talk it all
out with you."

"Well,
I'm here." MacGregor clapped him on the shoulder. "You
talk, and I'll listen."

"We
can't talk as freely here as I should like. This garden is a
paradise for eavesdroppers, and there are too many English-speaking
people about. Do you remember we talked of visiting Villa Pliniana?"

"The
place with the intermittent spring? Yes."

"I
think it's time we had a look at that spring."

"Lead
on," said MacGregor.

"We
can't hide in our room all afternoon," said Fletcher.

"I'm
not hiding," rejoined St. Carr. "I just don't like being
stared at."

"People
stared at us before we were ever suspected of being Orfeo."

"Well,
it's got much worse. And they point and cross themselves and mutter.
You'd think we were Hottentots."

"I
should have thought you'd be glad to get out for a bit," coaxed
Fletcher. "Only yesterday you were complaining that the fire
smoked, the windows banged, and the landlady's geese were so loud,
you were sure they were penned up under your bed."

"I
don't want to go out. I want to go back to England. This place is
detestable, the people gibber like monkeys, and the police are raving
mad. This is all your fault. When we left Milan, you said "

There
was a violent knocking at their door. Fletcher opened it and found
Marianna Frascani, arms akimbo, eyes snapping, a pair of long, wicked
hairpins stuck through her iron-grey topknot like crossed swords.
She launched into a tirade in Milanese.

"Slower!"
pleaded Fletcher. "I can't understand a word you're saying."

"That
commissa rio from Milan is here with a troop of soldiers! He wants
to see you and the young signor at once." She shook her fist
under Fletcher's nose. "For two days I've had the police in and
about my house on your account I, who never had a speck of trouble
with them before!"

She
stormed off. Fletcher and St. Carr had no choice but to follow.
They made their way through the maze of corridors surrounding their
room, and descended to the dark, bare foyer of the inn. Here they
found Commissario Grimani, his aide-de-camp Zanetti, and four
soldiers in the sky-blue and silver uniform of Austria. A little way
off, half in shadow, Gaston de la Marque lounged against the wall
with his usual insouciant smile.

"What
do you want now, Commissario?" said Fletcher.

Grimani
said, signalling to Zanetti to interpret, "You may have heard
that Lucia Landi has been found. I require you and Signor St. Carr
and Monsieur de la Marque to come with me to see her."

"But
that's splendid!" said Fletcher. "Beverley, she's the
girl who knew Orfeo when he was at the villa four or five years ago.
She can tell the police he's neither of us."

"Actually,"
murmured de la Marque, "by all accounts she's shown no
disposition to tell the police anything. That's why the commissa rio
has arranged this little drama to see if the girl will lose her mind
and fling herself into the arms of one or another of us. As she's
rumoured to be uncommonly good-looking, I hope you'll permit me to
stand in front."

"Do
you mean to say she could set us right with the police, and she
won't?" exclaimed St. Carr. "I call that monstrous
selfish!"

"We're
losing time," said Grimani. "Sergeant, take them out."

The
soldiers herded Fletcher, St. Carr, and de la Marque together and
marched them out, Grimani and Zanetti bringing up the rear. They
ascended one of the steep, narrow nights of stairs to the piazza.
The villagers scattered before the soldiers like frightened birds,
only to gape at the procession from a distance.

"Confound
it!" St. Carr fumed. "Hugo, it was your idea to come
here to keep me out of trouble, you said! Can't you do something
about this?"

"Signor
Commissario," said Fletcher, "where is Mr. Kestrel? Does
he know about this?"

"To
my knowledge," said Grimani, "no one has appointed Signer
Kestrel to a position with the Milanese police or indeed to any
official post at all. This is no affair of his."

They
entered the piazza and made for Ruga's tall, whitewashed house. The
gendarmes standing guard outside the door parted to let them through.
Ruga received them with fulsome greetings and assurances of his
vigilance, which Grimani cut short by demanding to see Lucia. Ruga
conducted them upstairs.

Lucia
had a room under the eaves, with one low window beneath the slanting
ceiling. The only furnishings were a plain wooden bedstead and a
small chest of drawers with a ewer and basin on it. Two cushions on
the floor, with a crucifix hanging above them, formed a rough
priedieu. Lucia was kneeling there, her back to the door, when
Grimani and his party filed in.

She
started up and turned, staring at the group of men who all but filled
her room. Grimani made a sign, and the soldiers stepped back,
leaving Fletcher, St. Carr, and de la Marque exposed to her view.
Her eyes travelled slowly over them, then came to rest on Grimani.