Page 11 of Murder in Verona

Although I had already gathered that Rodolfo had been a womaniser, I had assumed that his relationships had been consensual. ‘But didn’t they mind? What about you? Were you a victim of his unwelcome advances?’

She was looking positively embarrassed now. ‘I was and I told him to keep his hands to himself and, to be fair, he did. As far as the others are concerned, some did and some didn’t.’

‘I gather he had recently married. Do you think he might still have strayed a bit since?’

‘It’s not up to me to comment. Heaven forbid that I should sully the name of a wonderful, kind, generous man – and he really was all of those things.’

So there had obviously been another side to him as well. I gave her a few seconds before pressing her a bit more. ‘I quite understand your position and your feelings, but please just answer me this: is it possible that he might have been carrying on with somebody here at the villa?’

She didn’t look up from the dogs at her feet as she answered. ‘It’s possible, I suppose, but that’s all I feel I can say.’

I couldn’t help noticing that she hadn’t poured cold water on the idea that Rodolfo might have had a relationship with somebody here, but I could sympathise with her position and I left it at that. ‘He must have been quite a character.’

Dolores nodded. ‘He certainly was that and, like I say, he lived life to the full; not just with his stage performances but skiing, sailing, climbing and, of course, racing his beloved cars. Certainly, I would definitely rule out suicide. He had everything a man could want.’

‘What about his wife? Do you like her?’

I was mildly surprised to see her nod her head. Somehow, I’d been expecting more disapproval if Alessia had been unfaithful to her husband as Violetta had said. ‘Yes, very much. She’s a lovely friendly person and she’s very talented – as well as being very beautiful.’

‘And how did she and Rodolfo get on? Surely she must have realised that he was carrying on with other women?’

I was again surprised at what Dolores said next. ‘She loved him dearly, I’m sure, and when they were together, they always looked happy.’

This was so totally different from what Violetta had told me that I had to find out more. ‘I believe she’s been away a lot, hasn’t she?’

‘She’s really made a name for herself as a singer over the last few years and, of course, this has meant that she’s been doing a lot of touring, with performances as far away as Argentina and the USA.’

‘And of course Rodolfo was still doing quite a lot of touring himself, wasn’t he? It must have been difficult for them to meet up.’

‘Yes, indeed. But when they did, it was usually here – their haven away from the media. They looked really happy together right up until the end.’ She looked up at me. ‘So if you think she might have murdered him for his money, you should think again. Apart from the fact that I’m sure she has a lot of money of her own, she really loved him, I’m certain of it.’

‘I’m sorry, but I have to ask: might she have been jealous if she thought that her husband was involved with other women?’

I had to wait for her answer. When it came, it sounded genuine. ‘When she married him, she must have known what sort of man he was. I’m sure she knew he was a terrible flirt – or worse – but I’m equally sure that she didn’t believe for a moment that once they were married, it ever went much further than flirting.’

I stood silent for a few moments and took stock. Yes, Rodolfo had been a womaniser, but it would appear that his marriage had changed him into a paragon of virtue. Call me an old cynic – and I am – but in my experience, such radical changes in behaviour are rare. Had this leopard really changed its spots? One thing was for sure: I was looking forward to talking to his widow.

No doubt anxious to get away from such a potentially intimate subject, Dolores glanced at her watch. ‘Almost lunchtime. Why don’t I show you to your suite?’

Oscar looked up with interest. She had mentioned lunchtime, after all.

7

WEDNESDAY LUNCHTIME

I’d been expecting a bedroom, no doubt a comfortable bedroom, probably with a private bathroom, but I hadn’t been prepared for what greeted Anna and me on the top floor of the villa. When we emerged from the lift, we found ourselves on a broad landing with a beautiful marble staircase curling down to the lower floors straight ahead of us and a single door in the wall on the right-hand side. Unlike the other floors, which had had long corridors leading off in both directions, there was just a single corridor to our left. Dolores pointed to the right first.

‘That’s the entrance to Rodolfo and Alessia’s apartment, and the corridor to our left leads to Signora Violetta’s apartment and, beyond that, to the two guest suites.’

I decided to do a little bit more sleuthing. ‘Is Alessia living here at the moment?’

Dolores shrugged her shoulders. ‘She is and she isn’t. Her official residence is still here and she was here last week, but she’s been away since Friday performing in southern Italy. From what she told me before she went off, she should be back any day now.’

‘That’s good to hear. I’d be grateful if you’d let me know when she returns. I’ll be interested to speak to her.’

Dolores led us down the corridor past Violetta’s private apartment until we reached two more doors. She opened the first of these and ushered us inside. We followed the two Labradors into a large living area with a comfortable-looking sofa and armchairs and beyond that, a bedroom with a king-size bed and a luxurious bathroom. There were French windows in both of the main rooms, leading out onto the flat roof of the villa. Oscar and I wandered outside and I saw that these top-floor apartments were surrounded by a roof terrace that extended the full length of the building. Five metres in front of me, the terrace ended in a low wall with a fine statue of a scantily clad Roman maiden on it. I realised that this was the top of the façade and these apartments had been built onto the flat roof in such a way as to be hidden from the gardens below.

We had our own private piece of terrace, loosely divided from the other apartments by three large terracotta urns. Over the top of the façade, the views were magnificent. From here, we could see almost the full, deep-blue expanse of Lake Garda until it disappeared to the north of us into the distant Alps that rose steeply skywards, their peaks swathed in puffy, white clouds. Below us was the gravelled parking area surrounded by palm trees and rose beds. It was a delightful scene and Anna was obviously as impressed as I was because she turned to Dolores to thank her.

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