Marco Vichi - Death in Sardinia

‘What makes you think that?’

‘The tragic tone.’ Rosa gave a sly smile.

‘Wrong! It may seem like the finale, but it’s the coup de theatre … Would you like me to tell you the story?’

‘Of course,’ said Bordelli, knowing that any other answer would have been taken as an insult.

‘A nip of cognac?’

‘If I must …’

‘Sit down over there and get comfortable,’ she said, excited. She pushed him down on to the sofa and took his shoes off. Then she filled two small glasses with cognac.

‘What shall we drink to, monkey?’ she asked, raising her glass.

‘To Princess Rosa?’

‘And to 1966 … I want it to be a marvellous year.’ They clinked glasses, looking each other straight in the eye, and took a sip.

‘Now let me tell you the story of Doralice,’ she said, setting her glass down on the table. Bordelli lit a cigarette, determined not to miss a word. Rosa stood up and clapped her hands, as if to open the performance.

‘This story takes place in the past, centuries ago, in a great castle surrounded by cypresses at the top of a hill. Princess Doralice, who’s me, has three delightful daughters, Amelia, Camilla and Rinuccia, all very sensitive and sweet, all as beautiful as their mother, who’s me. Rinuccia is the youngest and prettiest of all …’

Bordelli couldn’t stop fidgeting. There was a spot on his spine that hurt. Perhaps a draught had chilled him. However he tried to settle, he felt a pinch in a vertebra halfway down his back.

‘… all was going smoothly, when one day Rinuccia meets a man, Adalberto, and falls head over heels in love with him. And this is where things go awry, because Rinuccia doesn’t know that Adalberto is her cousin, a distant cousin on the side of an aunt who was the second wife of her mother’s brother, that is, my brother, and who Rinuccia had never seen before. In the meantime, Doralice’s son-in-law, Otello, that is, my son-in-law, the one married to Amelia, my eldest daughter, falls in love with my second daughter, Camilla, who is, however, already engaged to Manlio, who is cheating on her with a peasant girl, the natural daugher of Gaspare, my second husband … Did I mention that Doralice is twice widowed?’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Bordelli, feeling a mild headache begin to set in. Rosa was pacing back and forth on the rug, still moving like a princess.

‘There’s also a great-uncle, by the name of Giulio, a gloomy, wicked man who wants to marry me, even though, in fact, my second husband was the nephew of an in-law of his … But everything gets complicated when we learn that Romualdo is on his way there — he’s my first husband’s brother, and a distant relation of Ettore … Have I mentioned Ettore yet?’

‘Of course,’ Bordelli lied. Gideon raised his head and exchanged what seemed like a glance of tacit understanding with him, then went right back to sleep. He wasn’t required to follow the plot of the story …

The whole thing grew even more complicated, with fourth cousins and illegitimate children, rival lovers and trysts so contorted that even a police inspector couldn’t make head or tail of them. It was anybody’s guess where Rosa had dug all this up. Bordelli felt numb and decided to stop trying to keep up. He simply stared at Rosa and occasionally nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. He was thinking of Odoardo, of the scissors stuck in Badalamenti’s neck, of mortar fire, of Nazis rolling about on the ground … The important thing was to grasp the end of the story, rouse himself in time, and say something meaningful. He only hoped Rosa wouldn’t ask him anything specific about the plot.

‘… and so I run off to the castle like a bat out of hell and when I enter the dining hall I find Amelia, my eldest daughter, with a knife in her hand … dripping blood … and a dead body at her feet … Amelia has just killed Odoardo, stabbing him thirty times in the heart …’ Hearing the name Odoardo, the inspector suddenly snapped out of his reverie. He wasn’t sure he had heard right.

‘This is the scene I was rehearsing when you came in … How could you do such a thing? My own daughter, a murderess! And then I despair and fall to the floor, weeping, because I am convinced I’m the mother of a ruthless killer who has committed murder out of envy. But then I discover the truth, which is that Amelia killed Odoardo to achieve justice, because he was driving Zia Bettina’s daughter to suicide so he could get his hands on her inheritance. And so I embrace Amelia, still crying, but now they are tears of joy, and it all ends well … What do you think?’

Bordelli scratched his head and started searching for his cigarettes.

‘What about Amelia? Does she end up in jail?’

‘Why should she? She certainly didn’t kill Odoardo out of wickedness. She did it out of the goodness of her heart.’

‘Ah, I see …’

‘So, what do you think?’

‘I think it’s good. Really good, I must say.’

‘Really?’

‘Absolutely … A nice little intrigue. I’m just sorry I can’t come to see it.’

Rosa blushed with delight. It was easy to make her happy.

‘Do you like my hat? I made it myself, with a panettone box.’

Under the veils one could read the name Motta .

‘Beautiful … Aaaah!’ said Bordelli.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘One of my vertebrae hurts. Perhaps a storm is on the way.’

‘I guess you need a Bertelli plaster like the old folks.’

‘Aaaah …’

‘You’re always so tense … Want one of my little cigarettes?’

‘Not today, thanks.’

‘Then I’ll make you some herbal tea with honey.’

‘With honey?’

‘Leave it to me,’ Rosa said with a maternal expression and then left the room. Bordelli tried to relax.

He looked out at the rooftops with their chimney-pots and antennas. Rosa was bustling about in the kitchen, rushing from cooker to sink in her spiked heels. Moments later she returned with a steaming cup and a plate of teacakes. Bordelli sat up and took a sip of tisane. Rosa was watching to see whether he liked it.

‘That’s good. What’s in it?’ Bordelli asked.

‘Lemon balm, marigold, passion-flower, corn poppy and hawthorn … all mixed together.’

‘Excellent.’

‘Soon you’ll feel all your muscles relaxing.’

‘I can already feel it, I swear.’ Bordelli finished the tisane and stood up, back still sore. His headache had also intensified, but it certainly wasn’t the fault of Mamma Rosa’s herbal tea.

‘I’m going to go,’ he said, moving his neck to feel where it hurt most.

‘Why don’t you stay? My girlfriends are coming in a little while for a rehearsal.’

‘I can’t. I’m expected at headquarters,’ Bordelli lied.

‘Oh, rot …’ said Rosa. Then she dashed into her bedroom and returned with her hands behind her back.

‘Surprise!’ she said, bringing one hand forward, a golden ribbon dangling between her fingers. Bordelli gave her a kiss on the cheek. He was about to unwrap the present when she snatched it back out of his hands and put it in his jacket pocket.

‘Open it later,’ she said.

‘Whatever you say.’ The cat was still asleep, and on his way out Bordelli stroked his head. Gideon moved his tail but didn’t open his eyes.

‘Don’t overtax yourself,’ Bordelli said to the cat.

‘All he ever thinks about is eating, and chasing girls,’ said Rosa.

‘I think he’s discovered the meaning of life,’ said Bordelli, heading for the door. In the doorway he kissed Rosa’s hands, which she loved, then started down the stairs with the distinct feeling that his headache was getting worse.

‘Will I see you before 1966?’ Rosa called down the stairwell.