Aged for Vengeance, page 15
“This is Olivia, the wine waitress from yesterday,” he told her proudly. “And this is my wife,” he told Olivia, sounding equally proud. “Morag loves cooking. You can’t tear her away from the kitchen. It’s why we don’t stay in hotels much.”
“So good to meet you,” Morag enthused, glancing over her shoulder and giving Olivia a dazzling smile.
She really was gorgeous, Olivia decided, relieved by her friendliness as she smiled back. From a glance at her stylish pants and designer top, her fabulous shoes and expensive but understated jewelry, she guessed Morag enjoyed shopping. In contrast to her husband, who clearly hadn’t updated his wardrobe since his college days, Olivia thought with an inward smile.
“Brunch is almost ready. I’ve made enough for an army. Since you’ve brought us wine, I do hope you’ll stay for a bite?” Morag asked. She turned around, leaving Olivia spellbound by her colorful Dolce & Gabbana apron.
Olivia thought she shouldn’t, and that it was pushing the boundaries of accepted protocol too far. But if she declined, she’d have to leave in a hurry to let them get to their food.
Plus, she was starving. She’d missed dinner last night and only had a quick cup of coffee at Luca’s chalet this morning.
“That’s so kind,” she accepted gratefully.
“Sit down, sit down.”
Hamilton herded her over to the kitchen table—an expanse of polished oak, with colorful place mats and shiny, expensive-looking cutlery.
“Coffee? Orange juice?”
Before Olivia could acquiesce to either, both were placed in front of her. A moment later, she was presented with a massive plate of food.
Pink, perfectly cooked fresh salmon, dotted with capers and chunks of cream cheese, rested atop a bed of lightly scrambled eggs. The plate was flanked by tasty-looking triangles of fried ciabatta bread.
“Oh, my word!” Olivia exclaimed.
Morag sat opposite her, looking pleased at the praise.
“Eat, eat,” she encouraged.
“Our day yesterday didn’t go as planned,” Hamilton explained, piling his fork high with food. “You see, Morag was supposed to shop with a friend, I was supposed to taste wine, and we were going to meet at the restaurant.”
“Then it all went wrong with that awful death!” Morag’s flawless features tightened in concern. “Do they know yet how he died?”
Olivia was too busy chewing on a piece of crispy, buttery fried bread to reply immediately.
“The police are investigating,” she said, when she’d finished her mouthful.
“Rupert was a nasty piece of work,” Hamilton emphasized. “He was fighting with everyone. He tried to pick a fight with me. He baited Drake until he exploded. I even heard him insult one of the Italian brothers. And then there was another incident,” Hamilton remembered.
“Really?” Olivia said. She hadn’t seen any interaction between Rupert and either of the Bocelli moguls. But then, she’d been busy and had spent a lot of time checking on the progress of the bus repairs.
“I’ve been wondering if a certain person followed him outside to fight with him,” Hamilton said.
“Was he killed in a fight? I thought you said he drowned,” Morag said, sounding confused.
“People don’t just drown in shallow ponds.” Hamilton sounded sure of himself as he speared a piece of salmon.
Had there been a fight? Olivia ran the scenarios through her head again. A fight was the most logical reason for Rupert’s demise, but Rupert would have fought back. Or would he? He had seemed drunk, she remembered.
“Who do you think did it?” she asked.
“I don’t think, I know!” he said, wagging a finger at her. Olivia nearly choked on a mouthful of scrambled egg.
“Who?” she asked eagerly.
“I’ll tell ye.” Hamilton lowered his voice to a confidential whisper. “It was that young lad, the wet-behind-the-ears one who was there to do card tricks.”
“Him?” Olivia asked incredulously. She felt shocked. That wasn’t what she’d expected Hamilton to say at all. He suspected Instagram idol Ferdie Tooley?
“Why Ferdie?” she asked.
“Ah, yes, that’s his name. You see, I overheard an interesting conversation between the two of them. Rupert and Ferdie, I mean.”
“What did they say?” Olivia leaned forward eagerly, practically putting her chin in her plate as she listened to Hamilton’s confidential whisper.
“Rupert was telling Ferdie that he’d found him out, and he would make sure that he was destroyed,” he said, sounding triumphant.
“Really?” Olivia was stunned. This was critical information! Such a dire threat could provide a strong motive for murder. Had young Ferdie committed the crime to avoid being destroyed? And what was the background to this troubling exchange?
She scraped up the last of her salmon. She felt fortified and energized, and even more importantly, her suspect list was growing. Drake and Ferdie were at the top, followed by whichever of the Bocelli brothers Rupert had insulted.
There was no time to lose, Olivia decided, pushing her chair back.
“Thank you for the delicious breakfast,” she said, and Morag smiled.
“Going already?” Hamilton sounded surprised.
“I have a lot of deliveries to make,” Olivia explained. “Technically, this is a workday for me.”
“Better get back to work. That’s how the money’s made.” Hamilton nodded in approval.
Olivia climbed into her car and headed down the drive. Her brain was buzzing with what she’d learned. She still believed that Drake had the strongest motive for the murder, but Hamilton had thrown a curveball into the equation with his mention of Ferdie.
Had Rupert threatened others as well? she wondered.
It was almost time for the delivery she’d arranged with the receptionist at Villa Fiora.
This time, Olivia hoped her appointment would get her through the gate and face to face with Bernie.
*
The interior of Villa Fiora was light and bright, with gold detail and enough marble to make the Taj Mahal jealous, Olivia thought, taking in the exquisite space admiringly.
“I’m here to deliver a parcel for Bernie,” she said to the receptionist. “I was hoping I might be able to hand it to him personally.”
At that moment, Bernie strolled in from the lounge.
“Ah, Signor Cooper. Your parcel is here.” The receptionist smiled.
“Yeah. I thought I’d come by and take it myself.”
Bernie was wearing a startlingly unattractive pair of moss-green jeans and a sweatshirt so ancient that the logo was no longer readable.
Olivia wasn’t surprised. Nothing about these billionaires could shock her anymore. But she was quietly determined to get Bernie alone, and out of the receptionist’s earshot.
“Could we sit for a moment?” she asked. “I’d like to explain the wines to you.”
“Sure.” Bernie gestured to the next-door lounge.
Taking a deep breath, Olivia led the way into the lounge and headed for the farthest corner. There, a luxurious leather couch faced a modern chair that seemed to be constructed from a surfboard and a clothes horse.
Hoping that Bernie would feel at ease on the couch, Olivia took the chair.
Yup, it felt like a surfboard as well, she realized.
“You’re not here to talk about the wines, are you?” Bernie asked her in a low voice. Olivia got such a fright she jumped. The chair wobbled and almost fell over. She stuck out her leg at the last possible moment and saved herself from an attention-grabbing crash.
“My boss said that if any of the guests wanted to discuss the—wanted to speak about what happened at the winery, I should give them the opportunity. Everyone deserves closure,” Olivia told him.
“Yeah, true,” Bernie agreed.
“Perhaps you want to?” she asked encouragingly. “It’s helpful to get things off your chest.”
“You’re right.” Bernie sighed heavily as Olivia sat straighter in excitement. “I do need to get this off my chest, because I’ve been feeling very guilty about it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Olivia couldn’t believe it. She was about to witness a freely given confession to murder.
“Why do you feel guilty?” she asked Bernie gently, hoping he’d continue to pour out the truth to her.
“Because I should have told the police about what happened earlier,” he sighed. “In fact, I should have personally intervened at the time, and not allowed things to take their course.”
Now she felt confused. The conversation seemed to be veering in an unexpected direction.
“Can you explain?” she asked.
Bernie sighed. “Well, when Rupert was threatening the Bocelli brother, it was clear to me he was setting himself up as a target for murder. Who was it? Oh, yes, Aldo, of course. I should actually have told him, right there, that his behavior was unacceptable, that he was clearly too drunk, and he should take a cab home. I didn’t, and so he died.”
“Threatening Aldo?” she echoed, remembering Hamilton had mentioned the same incident. “When did this happen?”
“It was just after Rupert said the bus was broken,” Bernie remembered. “I think you and a couple of others rushed out. Anyway, Rupert was ranting on about how we’d all be stuck here for hours now, and Aldo asked Rupert if he was sure it wasn’t just a quick fix. I don’t think he meant it to be an insult, but Rupert took it that way. He said that if he was insinuating he was a liar, he should think again, because Rupert would go out of his way to make the rest of the tour, and the rest of his life, a misery for him. Aldo looked extremely angry. I could see he’d taken it badly even though he didn’t respond or fight back.”
Olivia felt aghast.
“Then what happened?” she asked.
“Then Drake stood up and told Rupert to shut it, that there was no need to speak this way to other guests who were just confirming facts. And then Rupert turned on Drake, as if he was ready to start a fist fight.”
Remembering the scene she’d witnessed as she walked back in, Olivia nodded.
Bernie’s version made sense. Now she knew how Drake and Rupert had ended up about to fight. It had all started with Aldo.
“Did you see Rupert go outside?” Olivia said.
“Nope. I didn’t see that. I got a call from my office back home, asking me to troubleshoot a problem. I was on the call for about ten minutes. I found a quiet corner at the back of the restaurant. There’s a glass-covered outdoor room. It was cold, but at least I could hear myself think.”
“You didn’t go outside?” Olivia pressured.
“I tried. The wind was terrible, and it was impossible to hear what my manager in the States was saying, and for her to hear me. So I went back in. I’ve actually downloaded the call records just this morning, as I am sure the police will want to see them. I guess they provide an alibi of sorts.”
“I’m sure that will help them a lot,” Olivia agreed.
Bernie checked his phone. “I’ve got an urgent mail I need to answer, so I’ll head back to my room. Thanks for the wine, and for helping me get that off my chest.”
“Thank you for your time,” Olivia said politely.
She hurried back across the marble expanse of the reception hall. She felt excited, though unnerved, by what Bernie had said. He had a firm alibi which could be confirmed by concrete evidence.
More importantly, Aldo was now jointly at the top of her list, together with Ferdie and Drake. He’d been targeted by Rupert first, and could have decided to take personal revenge later.
Chico and Aldo were booked in the Gardens of Florence. That was closer than where Ferdie was staying, so Olivia decided to go there first.
“Aldo, I’m coming for you!” she announced sternly, swinging onto the road.
*
Twenty minutes later, Olivia marched determinedly into the sumptuously decorated reception hall at the Gardens of Florence.
“I have gifts for Chico and Aldo Bocelli, who are staying here. I would love to hand them over personally.” Olivia smiled at the receptionist.
“Ah, our favorite guests!” the woman exclaimed.
Olivia noted a pot of Chi-Aldo Luxury Hand and Nail Cream stationed next to the keyboard. She guessed that the brothers generously distributed gifts wherever they stayed. No wonder they were popular!
Briefly, Olivia struggled with the concept that such kind, generous, well-loved people could be murderers. Then she warned herself not to prejudge. After all, beautiful waters had deadly currents.
The receptionist called out to the butler. “Where are our local heroes? This lovely lady has brought them wine!”
“They were at breakfast. No, then they went outside. I think they were heading to the tennis courts. Can I escort our visitor there?”
“Please.” The receptionist smiled.
Feeling rather like a VIP guest herself thanks to this wonderful treatment, Olivia followed the butler outside. He led her through a formal garden with paved paths, lavender plantings, a central fountain, and small statues punctuating the way. From there, they joined a path crossing verdant lawns, with three modern tennis courts at the far end.
Olivia recognized Chico and Aldo immediately. Chico, dressed in whites and dancing from foot to foot on the green-paved court, waited for Aldo to send down a devastating serve.
Aldo leaped into the serve, coiling over his racket, and the ball flashed across the net, clearing it by the merest inch. But Chico was ready, slamming it diagonally back again.
Olivia gasped as Aldo sprinted for the ball, arriving just in time to deliver a curving backhand. It hit the top of the net, and its speed bled away as it bounced softly onto the opposite side.
Racing desperately toward it, Chico arrived after the second bounce, although his desperate stroke still sent it soaring into the air.
Watching it, Aldo laughed. “Too slow,” he called.
“You were lucky,” Chico grinned. “Next time, I will win the point.”
“I have just won the first set! You have some catching up to do.”
At that moment, the men noticed Olivia and the butler.
“Ciao, ciao,” Chico called.
“May we interrupt you?” the butler asked.
“Of course. I am in the lead!” Laughing, Aldo walked over to the small gate set into the wire fence. He picked up a water bottle, and as he untwisted the top, he stared more closely at Olivia.
“You are from the winery. I remember you.”
“Yes. I’ve come to bring you a gift.” Olivia handed the packs of wine over.
“Ah, how wonderful! A reminder of our tasting,” Chico said.
“And what followed,” Aldo added pointedly.
“We wanted you to have good memories of our winery, even though we had such an unfortunate incident,” Olivia said.
The butler was walking back across the lawn, clearly deciding Olivia wanted a private chat. She was very glad to have the chance.
“I hope they arrest the perpetrator soon,” Chico said.
Aldo nodded. “It was obvious from the first moment who it was,” he said.
“Exactly. Obvious to all,” Chico agreed.
Olivia goggled at the brothers. This wasn’t going the way she’d hoped. Aldo didn’t sound in the least guilty, or as if he was trying to deflect suspicion. It was as if they were both making a statement of fact.
“Who was that?” she asked.
The brothers spoke together.
“Carmody,” Chico said.
“Tomas,” Aldo said.
Everyone looked at each other as a surprised silence descended.
Olivia’s mind was whirling. What on earth? Every time she interviewed a suspect, the suspect named someone else. Meanwhile, the brothers turned to stare in puzzlement at each other.
“Why do you think him?” both asked at the same time.
Chico frowned. “It is obvious to me. Carmody was bragging the whole way to the winery about his experience in Tibet, and what he had learned there. I am sure they taught him martial arts, and that is how he managed to overpower Rupert.”
Olivia wasn’t sure about this version. Firstly, Carmody hadn’t looked the right build for a martial arts expert—his shape was more Buddha than ninja. Secondly, she was sure he’d stayed in the restaurant the whole time. But why did Aldo suspect Tomas?
“That strange pianist was so oversensitive, and couldn’t take any criticism,” Aldo explained. “As we were walking into the winery, Rupert said he hadn’t heard of him and didn’t think he ever would. I thought that Tomas was going to kill him on the spot. Pianists have strong fingers, don’t they? Perhaps he followed him out and strangled him and dropped him in the pond!”
Olivia filed this information away. She agreed Tomas had an ego and was very self-centered. Could his narcissism have pushed him to destroy his critic?
And, more importantly, did the brothers have an alibi?
“I heard that you and Rupert had words during the evening. I’m sure the police will ask you where you were at the time of his death,” Olivia said to Aldo, trying to sound worried and sympathetic all at the same time.
Aldo nodded. “He certainly spoke harshly to me and was very rude and threatening. But, as part of Chi-Aldo Luxury Cosmetics corporate culture, we have super-strict rules about how we behave when in public. Of course I was angry, but our motto in such instances is to walk away, forgive, and forget.”
“Exactly!” Chico nodded.
“We observed that Rupert was continuing to pick fights, and we even overheard him having a confrontation with you outside. Deciding to step away from trouble, we went next door to the tasting room, where we read up on the interesting facts about the winery.”
Olivia’s eyes widened. So Chico and Aldo had been witness to Rupert’s bullying, and her hissed threats to the billionaire.
“We heard you putting him in his place, very firmly,” Aldo explained.
“We stayed in the tasting room until you called us,” Chico added.
“Of course, we did what we always do in such a situation,” Aldo said.
