I decided I was a hopeless investigator. I had been trying to discover why Donatella had disliked Antonio. Instead, I had learned why Donatella and Aldo did not trust Tomaso!

  *****

  "They're a client of mine." Donatella and I stood in the doorway of the restaurant Oenotra. "The name means 'land of wine' in ancient Greek. That's what the ancient Greeks called Italy. I have to meet with the owner after lunch, just for a few minutes. I think you're going to like the food."

  The pampering began the minute we entered the vast, vaulted room. I ate some of the most exquisite food I had ever tasted in my life. Eventually, Donatella left to have her meeting with the owner. While waiting, I watched the people walking past the restaurant windows. They went to and from the main square, some carrying packages from the expensive shops, others looking contentedly well fed, just like me.

  I watched a couple approach. The man had his arm around the woman's shoulders. Her arm was wrapped around his waist. The woman rested her head against his chest and smiled up at him. I sat up quickly. I moved closer to the window and pushed my nose against the glass. The woman was Cinzia! Cinzia had her arm around a man the day after her fiancé was murdered! The man turned his face, and I had a good view of him. It was Tomaso! I pushed away my glass of wine and looked out the window again, but there was no doubt, even in the shadows of the alley. Tomaso and Cinzia passed by my window. I even heard their voices in an intimate conversation. They turned the corner and disappeared from my view.

  All the couples passing were locked in intimate conversation. All the people passing were linked arm in arm, or an arm around a shoulder or waist. Italians were very physical people, I told myself. Tomaso and Cinzia worked together. They had grown up together. It was probably all very innocent. Tomaso had taken Cinzia out to lunch to cheer her up after her fiancé was killed. He was comforting her at a difficult time.

  No matter how I rationalized what I had seen, the feeling of confusion grew. What had I seen? What did it mean? Maybe it was something Italian I did not understand. I was not ready to believe what Aldo and Donatella feared, that Tomaso was not to be trusted, but I knew it was important to discover the answer to three questions. Was Cinzia's engagement to Antonio a sham, as Laura suspected? Was Tomaso being unfaithful to Laura just weeks before their marriage? And more important, did this have something to do with Antonio's murder?

  *****

  "I've run you ragged! Laura always says I run her ragged. I like that expression. You have so many nice expressions in English, and nice verbs!" Donatella slipped her arm in mine and guided me out of the bakery. "I'll make you some English tea. We have lots of sweets, so we'll have an English high tea. I wonder why they call it that."

  "Probably because it's a high caloric tea," I teased.

  "That sounds right!"

  Within minutes we were climbing the steps to the Bianchi's home, an apartment on the third floor of a building not far from the bakery. "Relax or have a look around while I prepare the tea." Donatella went into the kitchen.

  Their home was light, airy, and comfortably decorated. The sofa was oversized and incredibly soft. I sank into the cushions and closed my eyes. I must have dozed off, because before I knew it, Donatella was before me with the tray of tea and cakes. A pot of tea and many pastries later, I was feeling better but was upset about having failed to understand anything about the Bianchi's relationship with Antonio Bartolini. I decided that if I were to get anywhere, I had to be more direct.

  "I heard that Aldo felt justice had been done when Antonio was murdered. What did he mean by that, Donatella?" I held my breath, waiting for an answer, but none came.

  The question had so upset Donatella that she nervously picked up the teapot and hurried to the kitchen, saying as she went, "We need some more tea and cakes." The kitchen door closed behind her cutting off her voice.

  I was crushed. I had offended Laura's friend with my silly amateur detecting!

  I wanted to run after Donatella and apologize, but before I could do anything, Aldo Bianchi entered from the front hall. "Don't worry about Donatella. She'll be okay in a few minutes. You surprised her, that's all. You made her think about something she didn't want to think about." He sat down opposite me. "What did I mean about justice being done? First, let me say that I said that in the emotion of the moment. I don't believe it any more."

  A subdued Donatella returned from the kitchen without the teapot and sat down next to her husband.

  "Donatella's wrapped up in her work these days." He gazed on his wife affectionately and took her hand in his. "But for years, I was the one wrapped up in my work. I neglected my family."

  "You're not to blame. I don't blame you," Donatella said immediately.

  Aldo patted Donatella's hand and continued his explanation. "We have a son, Marco. Marco has an addiction problem and is in a clinic recovering. At least, we hope he's recovering. This is the third clinic. He's almost died several times."

  As Aldo stopped to recover his calm, professional demeanor, I mentally kicked myself. I had done the one thing Laura had asked me not to do. I had brought up the Bianchi's child!

  "I help people with addictions all the time, but I couldn't see it in my own son."

  Donatella explained, "We're both people who set our own goals in life, Bert. We've never needed much help from others. I think that's why we didn't push Marco. We just thought he'd find his own way, like we did. But he's different from us. He needed more from us. We understand that now, but now it's too late."

  "It's very sad, of course, but I think you may be taking too much blame on yourselves." I was overwhelmed by their sense of guilt. "Addiction is an illness. Some people have addictive personalities and physiologies, and that's more powerful than upbringing. You couldn't have known Marco would have this predisposition."

  Aldo looked at me a moment in surprise, then turned his rusty smile on his wife. "Laura reminds us of the same thing all the time. In any group of children who experiment with drugs, there will be one who becomes addicted. That one was our son."

  "His grandfather died of alcoholism." Donatella nervously rearranged the pastries on the dish in front of us as she spoke. "He fought it all his life, but it finally killed him. It was stronger than him."

  I recalled Donatella's talk of genes skipping generations. She had been talking about her own son inheriting a bad gene, and suffering for it. They had all suffered for it.

  "You're probably wondering what this has to do with Antonio," Aldo said. "Antonio and Marco were school friends."

  "Friends," scoffed Donatella. "Antonio had no friends. Only people who hung around him because he had lots of money and bad habits."

  "Our son couldn't afford the drugs, so Antonio bought them for him," Aldo explained. "He bought more and more, feeding Marco's addiction, increasing the dosages, until he nearly died. That's when we found out what was going on. I don't blame the school."

  "I do, and I blame Antonio's father for giving him so much money! No child should have that much money! It can only lead to bad things." Donatella practically shouted, "I blame Antonio Bartolini, more than anyone else. He caused so much suffering for others in his short life. Our son will suffer all his life with this addiction and with the damage it's done to his personality, his health, and his relationship with us."

  "I'm sorry I pried into what's none of my business. I only asked because I wanted to help Laura. The sooner Antonio's murder is solved, the less Laura will suffer."

  "Laura's suffering because the marshal suspects Tomaso, is that right?" Aldo asked.

  I nodded.

  "I'll be honest with you, I believe everyone is capable of murder if presented the right combination of circumstances and the right provocation. If Marco had died from the drugs, I might have killed Antonio in anger, but Marco didn't die."

  Donatella said, "I can't blame the marshal for suspecting Tomaso. He didn't get along with Antonio, at all, ever! But for poor Laura's sake, I wish I had killed Antonio, that way she wouldn't have to worry about Tomaso!"

  "You're a very good friend to say that, but do you mean it?" The Bianchi's devotion to Laura surprised me.

  "We owe Laura so much, Bert." Donatella continued, with Aldo's blessing, "When we learned of Marco's problems, we were devastated. We found a clinic for him, but he didn't get better. Then one by one, our Italian friends didn't want to see us anymore. It was as if they believed his illness was contagious."

  Aldo shook his head in disagreement. "No, it was as if they thought it was all our fault. They blamed us. It's normal, really. If they could believe it was our fault, then they could feel confident it wouldn't happen to their own children. Laura was the only friend to stand by us, and she helped us see his problem for what it was, an illness. She even found this new clinic for Marco."

  "He's getting so much better there." Donatella started to sound like her old, optimistic self again. "If I'd wanted to kill Antonio, I would never have done it at Laura's place. I would never have involved her in any way!"

  Aldo laughed. "I think you know what Donatella means, Bert. She means we value Laura's friendship too much to do anything that might hurt her."

  "That's why we warned her of our worries about Tomaso." She turned to her husband and said, "I told Bert."

  Aldo shook his head. "I don't know what to make of Tomaso. He's grown up so much since meeting Laura. He's always kind and attentive with her, but I feel he's still a child. If he manages to come through this situation in one piece, I think he'll finally be mature enough for her. Right now, though, I have my doubts."

  "Right now, I think he's a murderer!"

  "You don't know that," Aldo chided his exuberant wife.

  "I saw him go to the oil shed! I left the house after he did, and I saw him go to the shed."

  I jumped on the new information. "Did he go inside?"

  "No, he saw me, I think, and stopped at the door. Then he went up to the garages. He was going to go into the shed; I'm sure of it! The door was open when I passed."

  "Why didn't you tell this to the marshal?" I asked.

  "I couldn't. I didn't want to hurt Laura. She looked terrible after finding Antonio's body, the poor thing. I thought I was protecting her by protecting Tomaso, but now, I know I was wrong. How can I protect her if I let her marry a murderer!"

  "But why would he kill Antonio?" I pressed further, hoping for something more to offer the marshal.

  "Hatred, rivalry, envy. I don't know." Donatella shrugged.

  "We don't know that he did kill Antonio," Aldo reminded his wife. "We should leave that to the marshal to resolve, but you have tell him what you saw."

  The telephone in the front hall rang. Aldo went to answer it. I heard him speak in Italian for a few minutes, and then he hung up and rejoined us. "That was Laura. She's at the Bartolinis. It seems Marshal Tadeucci has arranged to speak to the family, and Laura wants to be there. I offered to bring you, Bert. That way Donatella can tell the marshal what she saw."

  *****

  "We just need a moment, Marshal." The Bianchis stood in front of the Bartolini estate where they had waited for Franco to arrive. Aldo began the sad story of his son while Donatella stood ready to explain what she had seen the day before. I moved away to let Franco do his job.

  When their stories had been told, Franco joined me. "Excellent work!"

  "They were going to tell you. They're good people, who've suffered very much."

  Franco looked amused by his compassionate colleague. "This is my second visit here, today. By the time I got here this morning, someone had already searched through Antonio's things."

  "Aldo's story suggests what they might have been looking for."

  "Drugs? It's possible." Franco grinned. "I knew we'd work well together."

  "Shhhhh!" I glanced at the Bianchis. "They're probably wondering what we're talking about. We're coming inside with you, to be there for Laura."

  "Is she here?" Franco's expression became serious. "She'll need your support."

  *****

  "I'll use English for Miss Fahey's benefit." Marshal Tadeucci's strong voice commanded our attention. "We now have the results of most of the scientific reports and know that your son was killed within the first half hour of leaving the main house yesterday afternoon."

  "Why do you insist on saying Antonio was killed?" Tomaso's voice rang with distrust and disrespect. "It was a freak accident!"

  Franco did not look surprised by Tomaso's challenge. He met it head on. "It was no freak accident. The chain and the wooden log keeping the grindstone up were not broken, and it's impossible for the log to slip from its position."

  "Maybe someone came onto the property and released the stone." Tomaso seemed determined to duel with the marshal. "Why does it have to be one of the guests?"

  "There's no evidence of anyone other than the guests having been in the oil shed, ever."

  "Then Antonio must have released the log himself!" Tomaso said triumphantly.

  "That's not physically possible, not from where your brother was found."

  "Then he used a tool," Tomaso rejoined quickly.

  "There're no marks on the log to show a tool was used, and if a tool was used, where is it? No tool that could have been used to release the log from where Antonio stood was found in the shed." Franco's patience seemed near an end. "Are you suggesting your brother committed suicide?"

  This roused the others. They voiced their disagreement with Tomaso's suggestion. Anna commented that it was a sin.

  "We know that Antonio was hit with the wooden log until he fell unconscious. Then the grindstone was raised and his head was placed in the trough. The log was removed, dropping the stone and crushing his skull, killing him instantly. This was no freak accident, no suicide, and no mysterious stranger. Antonio Bartolini was murdered by someone who was on the property yesterday." Franco removed his notebook from his pocket and consulted a page. "I'll translate. 'Meet me in the oil shed. We have to talk.' This message was found in your son's pocket, Signora Bartolini. Did you write it?"

  "No, she did not!" Tomaso shouted.

  Franco aimed his next question directly at Tomaso. "When did you pass him the note?"

  Giovanna said nervously, "I'm sure Tomaso has a simple explanation. He probably wanted to talk to Antonio privately concerning our argument." She suddenly looked alarmed at her slip. "It wasn't a serious argument, Marshal. We argued often, and it never amounted to anything."

  "Antonio had announced a surprise engagement to Cinzia Sanvincenti, hadn't he?" Franco did not wait for the surprised Giovanna to answer. "It was a serious argument, serious enough to make the both of you storm from the house, followed soon after by your son, Tomaso, serious enough for you to want to hide it from the police."

  I was alarmed to see several hostile glances directed at Laura. They had guessed where the marshal had learned of the argument, and the Bartolinis clearly saw this as betrayal.

  "Why did you arrange a secret meeting with your brother?"

  Tomaso said with renewed confidence, "I wrote the note. I don't deny that. I wrote it in the study while my mother and brother were arguing. I was going to tell you, Marshal, about the argument the next time I saw you, but you didn't give me a chance."

  If that were true, I thought, Tomaso was the only one of the Bartolini entourage who had planned to tell the marshal about the argument.

  Tomaso continued, "I knew Antonio was angry and when he's like that, he always runs off. So I wrote a note that he could read when he'd calmed down, and I passed it to him just before he ran away. Later, I went to the shed but realized Antonio wasn't there. So I decided to talk to Cinzia first. I went to the guest garages to make sure her car was still there. It was, so I looked for her and found her near the pool. We talked for more than half an hour."

  "It's true," Cinzia offered. "Tomaso found me by the pool, and we talked for thirty minutes or more. Then I looked for my mother, but I didn't find her. Finally, I went back to the house, and that's when they told me about Antonio."

  Anna's soft voice barely carried across the room. "The Bartolinis are not a physically violent family, Marshal. I've known them for many years, and I've never seen them raise a hand to one another. You're very wrong to suspect Tomaso of hurting his brother. They loved each other."

  Ovidio, seated next to Giovanna, said, "I saw Tomaso. I saw him in the gardens soon after we left the house. He was looking for someone, probably Cinzia."

  Franco eyed the man with pity. "You made a statement yesterday, Signor Olvidi, that you left the house to look for Signora Bartolini, didn't find her, and walked all over the grounds, during which time you saw no one."

  "I only just remembered this," Ovidio said haltingly.

  Giovanna said, "There's no need to lie, Ovidio. Tomaso did nothing wrong." She added softly, "But thank you."

  Ovidio took Giovanna's hand in his and tried to contain his overflowing emotions.

  Marshal Tadeucci asked, "Signora Bartolini, did you hear anything from the oil shed when you passed it on your way to the Cecchi's house?"

  The Bartolinis and their friends took the simple sounding question as an accusation of murder against Giovanna.

  Tomaso's emotions and voice rose above the others. "This interview has gone on long enough! My mother is in mourning. How can you accuse her of having anything to do with her son's murder? We'll report this to your superiors, Tadeucci!"

  Tomaso's ranting switched to Italian and continued for some time, despite Giovanna's efforts to rein him in. Graziella, too, came to her mother-in-law's defense, while Anna and Ovidio tried to talk sense into the marshal.

  The marshal spoke over them, silencing them with his powerful voice. "I'll leave now, but I will interview each of you individually, again." Before anyone could protest, he added, "Someone has been murdered. You must answer my questions. That's the law. Good night, Signora Bartolini." He nodded to Giovanna, and then left the reception room.