Aged for malice, p.16
Aged for Malice, page 16
At the bottom of the village, Olivia paused for a moment to admire the ruined castle, which seemed to take on a different mood every hour of the day. Now, bathed in sunshine, its crumbling battlements did not look spooky or threatening, but rather ancient, wise, and mysterious. In fact, Olivia decided, the castle seemed like a beacon of hope.
The first hotel was a quaint inn located just after the apartments she loved the most. Walking past their cream-plastered walls, Olivia glanced at the delightful wrought-iron balconies, featuring plant pots filled with colorful geraniums.
Next-door, the small hotel was just as scenic. It was a compact, seven-room establishment that was always booked solidly with tourists.
The door was open and Olivia headed into the hallway which served as the reception area. The aroma of coffee filled the air. The hallway would have been gloomy, were it not for the beautiful stained-glass window set high in the back wall.
There, looking frantically busy, speaking on the phone while she checked in a guest, was the plump and cheerful Signora Pacci, who ran the place together with her husband.
Signora Pacci’s brown eyes widened when she saw Olivia and she looked alarmed. The message was clear. She was wondering what a suspected killer might be doing in her small, cozy hotel.
Luckily, Signora Pacci worked at whirlwind speed. Concluding her call, she guided the guest down the short corridor. Olivia heard her enthusing as she unlocked the door.
“Here is your room, signor. It has a lovely view of Collina’s castle. We hope you will be happy here! Remember, complimentary tea and coffee are always available in the lobby.”
She rushed back to the reception desk.
“Signora Glass. How can I help?” Now she sounded more reserved, and in fact rather suspicious.
Olivia couldn’t wait to clear her name so that people stopped treating her like a pariah.
“I’m investigating the suspicious death that occurred on my farm,” she said.
Raising her other eyebrow, Signora Pacci waited for her to continue, tapping her fingers on the dark-polished reception desk that was crowded with tourism pamphlets, restaurant brochures, and other paraphernalia.
“The victim, Heberto Zacconi, was killed by an unknown assailant who fled the scene. But while searching for the assailant, I have discovered nobody knows who Heberto is. Therefore, he must have traveled here and possibly stayed in local accommodation,” Olivia explained.
“Ah, you want to know if he checked in here?” Signora Pacci asked. She seemed friendlier now. All it had taken was a simple explanation to set her right, Olivia realized in relief.
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Nobody by that name has booked in here within the past few days. We’ve had no guests unaccounted for either,” Signora Pacci confirmed. “All our visitors at this time are international, none Italian. So I think we are in the clear, no?”
To Olivia’s surprise she gave her a warm smile.
“It seems so,” she agreed.
‘I am glad you are investigating. I, too, believe in taking action if I feel there is unfairness. I hope that you are able to resolve this and correct the misinformation that seems to have spread.” Signora Pacci nodded approvingly.
Olivia felt much better as she left the quaint, pretty hotel. Even though she hadn’t yet identified the deceased she did feel she’d re-forged a friendly relationship with one of the village’s nicest people.
The next establishment, a couple of doors along, was an Airbnb that she didn’t know at all. Luckily there was a small notice outside with the owner’s phone number. Olivia dialed it, and found herself speaking to a grumpy man.
“I am sorry, we are full,” he snapped. “We have only one apartment and it is currently in the middle of a two-week booking with a family of regular guests.”
“Oh, dear. Thank you,” Olivia said. The short conversation had given her all the information she needed.
The next hotel on her list, the Collina Inn, was a two-minute walk up the steep hill. It was one of the larger, and more affordable, in the local village. It was a twelve-room hotel and Olivia had always thought it represented great value. Even though the rooms were small, they were well furnished, with thick stone walls, and full of character. And if you got a street-view room, you could peer out of your window and see the rival bakers engaging in their fake feud.
She headed inside, where the receptionist was on a step ladder, dusting the small chandelier in the hallway.
“Buongiorno, how can I help you?” she said, climbing quickly down.
“Buongiorno,” Olivia said. This receptionist didn’t seem to know who she was so she decided to adjust her story accordingly. “I was wondering if a certain guest might have checked into your hotel a day or two ago. I’ve been battling to locate him.”
“Sure, I can look for you,” the receptionist said. She put the step ladder away and scooted around the desk, tapping her computer keyboard. “What is his name?”
“Heberto Zacconi,” Olivia said.
“And you say he checked in a day or two ago?”
She peered at the screen, shaking her head. “No, signora, we have had no such person booking in.”
Olivia was about to thank her and leave when something that Signora Pacci had said began niggling at her mind. The efficient hotelier had said that there was nobody unaccounted for. What if Heberto had used another name, Olivia suddenly wondered. She decided this idea would be worth pursuing.
“I might have got the name wrong. Heberto is a nickname. He might have used his real name but I unfortunately don’t know what that is.”
Realizing this story was developing more holes than Swiss cheese, Olivia decided to press on quickly before the receptionist could think too hard about what she’d said. “Have you had any guests unaccounted for? Anyone who checked in and then disappeared, or been absent from the hotel?”
The receptionist frowned, clearly thinking hard.
“Actually, now you mention it, we were speaking this morning about one of our guests in room number ten. He booked in yesterday morning and the chambermaid mentioned that his bed had not been slept in last night.” She shrugged. “These things happen. Sometimes, guests make other plans. Or arrive for different reasons.” She smiled mysteriously.
Olivia felt all her instincts prickle. This had to be the same man.
“What did this gentleman look like?”
“He was average height. Short, slicked-back dark hair, and a charming demeanor.”
It was the same one! Olivia felt excitement flare inside her. She was sure this helpful woman would agree to let her take a look inside the room. All she had to do was word the question in the right way.
Her brain fizzed as she decided what the right way would be.
As Olivia was about to utter the all-important request, the back-office door clicked open, and a stern-looking, silver-haired woman swept into the reception area.
Quickly, she shut her mouth again, processing the sudden intrusion of this bossy-looking signora who, from her commanding attitude, was clearly the owner.
“The party staying in rooms two and three have requested the extra-firm support pillows. Have you provided those yet?” she asked the receptionist sternly.
“I was about to,” the receptionist said. She grabbed a spare room key from the row of hooks on the back wall. Looking guilty, she hurried off.
The woman turned to Olivia and her face changed.
“I know you!” she exclaimed. “You are the Americano who has caused all the problems. I understand you are wanted by the police! What are you doing here?”
Her face was like thunder. Olivia knew instantly that this authoritative female would be immune to any charm, or any story. Searching room ten was out of the question now. Her only course of action was to leave without inflaming her suspicions to the extent she called the police.
If she did, Olivia would be in a world of trouble.
“Signora, buongiorno,” she said. “I am not wanted by the police and am simply here on behalf of my employer, La Leggenda. They wanted to make sure that everyone working in this hotel is aware of Collina Wine Week which began today. Every Collina resident is welcome to claim a free wine tasting and also a large discount on the first bottle purchased.” She smiled winningly at the owner, noting that the mention of free wine had already caused the angry gleam to disappear from her eyes.
“I had heard of it, but was not aware it had started already, or that we received a free tasting. That is very kind of La Leggenda and we will certainly come along. We, as hardworking locals, often feel unappreciated by businesses catering for tourists so this is a wonderful initiative. Tell your bosses, though, that in view of current events, it might be better for them to send somebody else to notify us.”
“I will do,” Olivia said. Feeling as if she’d managed to avoid catastrophe by the skin of her teeth, she hurried out of the hotel.
Stepping into the street, Olivia realized she’d left a ticking bomb behind her. As soon as the receptionist had organized the extra-firm pillows, the hotel owner might check up on Olivia’s story. She seemed to be that sort of woman. If the receptionist spilled the beans, the owner would call the police immediately.
Before any of this could play out, Olivia had to get inside room number ten.
She had only minutes to come up with a plan that would allow her to sneak back into the hotel and enter that room, without being caught.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
As soon as she was out of sight of the hotel, Olivia called Danilo.
“Have you had success?” He sounded hopeful.
“It’s complicated,” Olivia admitted. “Success is near, yet far. I need your help as I can’t show my face in the hotel again.”
“Where are you? I am on my way.”
“The Collina Inn. Or rather, I’m not there. I’m outside the shoe store on the corner.”
“I will be there in two minutes.” Danilo sounded as if he was already starting to run.
Olivia watched for him. In mid-afternoon, the street was a bustling hive of activity. She was struck by the amount of color that had erupted now that spring had arrived. The window boxes were brighter, and the roadside trees festooned with blossoms. Everyone seemed to have put their black and navy attire away and was sporting pretty pastel hats and tops.
There was Danilo, striding down the road. Quickly she waved him over.
“Heberto was staying in room number ten, but he booked in under a different name. The receptionist described him and it’s a perfect match. But then the owner arrived and realized who I was. I got out of there as fast as I could, and can’t go back. If the receptionist tells her what I was asking, she’ll call the police, so it’s extremely urgent.”
Danilo looked concerned.
“We must act immediately! Do you have any ideas? What should we do?”
“I noticed the room keys are all hanging on hooks on the wall behind the reception desk. There was a spare key there for room ten. If you could create some kind of distraction, I could grab the key and go and look in the room. There must be some personal information in there. Perhaps a phone, or proof of address in his bag?”
Danilo’s eyebrows were just about hitting his hairline.
“That is very risky. It would land you directly in jail if you are found out.”
“Can you think of another plan? Because if not, no matter how reckless, it’s our only hope.”
Danilo nodded slowly. She could see his thoughts racing.
“Let me try,” he said. “I will ask to view one of the rooms. If the owner shows it to me then you will have your chance.”
He strode inside. Speaking loudly, Olivia heard him say, “Buongiorno!” She tiptoed forward, as close to the entrance as she dared, straining her ears to hear what he was saying.
Danilo was talking in Italian, deliberately slow and clearly so that Olivia could hear. “I have a friend visiting soon. I have heard your rooms are small but comfortable, but would like to see the size and furnishings for myself.”
“Of course, signor,” the owner replied. “Room nine is open. They are all similar. Would you like to see that one?”
Room nine? Olivia swallowed hard. That was going to be next to room ten. She’d have to be very careful. Risky had just become downright crazy.
“Please show me,” Danilo said.
Olivia peered around the corner to see Danilo following the owner to the staircase, which meant room ten would also be on the second floor.
Quickly, she tiptoed into the reception area, lifted the desk flap, marched to the back wall, and removed spare key number ten just as if she worked there. Then, with her heart hammering in her throat, she raced up the spiral staircase, aware of how loud her footsteps sounded on the wooden boards.
Inside room number nine, she could hear Danilo talking loudly and nonstop, obviously trying to provide a noisy distraction.
“Is the toilet modern?” she heard him ask. “My friend does not like old facilities.”
Olivia was filled with admiration that he’d managed to get the owner safely into the bathroom while she passed.
She unlocked the door of room ten, flinching as the key rattled in the lock. Quickly she pocketed it, and stepped inside. Closing the door softly behind her, she let out a shaky breath. She was in! Step one of this ultra-risky scheme had succeeded.
The room was neat and tidy. Heberto had unpacked, but his clothes only filled one shelf and two hangers. He hadn’t intended to stay for long, that was for sure. His valise was tidily stowed at the bottom of the wardrobe. The bed had been made, the coverlet smooth.
How could she find out more about him? Had he left notes anywhere? Did he have a phone or laptop with him?
She sighed in frustration as she pulled open drawer after empty drawer, closing them as softly as she could in case they could pick up any thumping from next door.
There was only one place still to look, Olivia realized. That was the valise itself.
She unzipped the pockets. No notepad, no phone, no convenient mini laptop.
But here was something!
Letting her breath out in a sigh of relief, Olivia drew out a car key, a passport and driver’s license from the inside pocket of the valise. Inside the passport was the paper from the car hire booking.
Staring at the passport in puzzlement, Olivia realized this wasn’t Heberto. Well, it was. The photos showed the same man, even though his hair was slightly different. Without a doubt though she recognized that narrow nose, that wide mouth, those well-groomed eyebrows.
But this ID was in a completely different name. Henri Zappi.
What did it mean? She had no idea. He’d been using a false name, but which, if either, were real? He must have had the Heberto Zacconi ID on him at the time of his death, or some proof of the name, but if that name was false, it could be why the police had been unable to contact any of his relatives.
She didn’t want to risk taking the ID away but she photographed the driver’s license and passport carefully. Her mind was racing about the implications of this find. They must be serious. She felt excited, nervous and confused.
She heard Danilo’s voice speaking from next door, and then a rattle that indicated he’d opened the room’s window.
“A pleasant street view,” he said loudly.
Perhaps this was a message to her that she should peek out too, so that they could communicate. With trembling hands, she undid the latch and raised the sash window, which opened smoothly. She stuck her head out and peered nervously to her left.
There was Danilo, peering to his right.
“Olivia!” he whispered. “Are you done?”
“I’m done,” she nodded.
“I’ll distract her so you can go,” he hissed. Then in a normal tone and switching back to Italian, he continued. “I see the bakers are already throwing bread at each other. So early in the season? It must bode well for good tourist numbers this year.”
He closed the window. Olivia closed hers, too, as quietly as she could, and put the latch back. Then she took a final glance around the room to make sure everything was as tidy as she’d found it.
She heard the door of number nine close. The key rattled in the lock and footsteps retreated. Danilo was asking the owner something else – she thought she heard him say the word ‘breakfast room’ and she guessed this would lead the owner away from reception and clear the way for her to leave.
Tiptoeing outside, she closed the door and rushed back down the corridor.
There was the receptionist! The wild card in the equation they’d all forgotten about. She was bustling down the corridor ahead of another guest.
Olivia shrank back into the stairwell. If the guest was going upstairs, it was game over for her. She held her breath, feeling helpless as she waited to see what would happen.
They passed by the staircase. Quivering with tension, she rushed down the corridor. She lifted the flap, replaced the key on the hook, and turned, letting out a sigh of relief.
Just as she hustled out of the main door, she met two tourists heading in. Thank goodness she hadn’t been a moment later, she thought, sprinting down the street to put some distance between her and the hotel. They would have caught her behind the counter and then things could have gotten extremely awkward.
As it was, she’d discovered that the deceased man had a double identity. He must be some kind of fake, or con-man. But what did that mean for the case?
And, more urgently, with the clock ticking down, how was she going to find anyone connected to him, when all his known names and identities might be false? It was already half past three. She needed to get together with the others for a last, desperate pow-wow. Perhaps Charlotte or Danilo would have a brainwave on what to do next.
*
Olivia felt the pressure mount as she sidled into the small village library. She’d told the others to meet here as soon as possible for their recce. A moment later, Danilo walked in, and a few seconds afterward, Charlotte hurried through the door to join them.
