Page 9 of Murder at Christmas

‘Good evening.’ It wasn’t clear whether he was addressing Fiona or me, but I did my best to turn on the charm – not necessarily one of my strongest points.

‘Good evening, Orlando. Fiona has just been telling me about how the two of you met.’

In response, he just nodded absently and took another sip of whisky. Fiona joined in – tentatively.

‘Dan was complimenting me on my Italian, and I was telling him that we live in Turin.’

He nodded but gave no response, so I tried again. ‘Is that where the centre of operations of the company is?’

This at least did elicit a response, albeit far from expansive.

‘Yes, although increasingly, we manufacture all over the world.’

‘Are you involved in the sales side or are you more technical?’

‘Promotion and marketing.’ Nobody could accuse him of being too loquacious.

I tried again. ‘Your uncle was telling me that there’s a lot of competition in your business. I imagine that promotion and marketing are vitally important.’

I saw his eyes flick across the room towards Umberto, who was still deep in conversation with Anna. ‘My uncle has nothing to do with the business.’ His tone was dismissive, and I began to see why his wife was looking apprehensive. Clearly, Orlando had got out of bed the wrong side this morning – as my gran used to say. Then, possibly realising that he wasn’t behaving as hospitably as the son of the host should, he added a grudging afterthought. ‘But he’s right. It’s not an easy market these days. People don’t have as much disposable income as they used to have – at least, not our main demographic.’

‘Which is?’ I was pleased to see that he had at least been able to string a few sentences together.

‘Traditionally young adult, roughly the eighteen-to-thirty bracket.’ He took another smaller sip of whisky and continued. ‘That’s why we’re trying to get Selena on board, so as to extend our appeal to an older demographic. The people with the money are more her age than mine these days.’ His English – albeit with an American accent – was very fluent, and I realised I was in a house full of polyglots.

Still on my charm offensive, I offered him some consolation. ‘Well, I’ve just bought myself one of your jackets before coming here, so your marketing must be doing something right. Selena and I are pretty much the same age.’ I gave him a grin. ‘Although not in the same income bracket.’

He didn’t smile at my attempt at humour, and conversation lapsed awkwardly. It was a relief when I heard a discreet cough at my shoulder.

6

MONDAY EVENING

I turned to see the young man named William standing there. He came with a message.

‘Mr Armstrong, Signor Viviani wonders if you could spare a few minutes to talk to him. He’s in his study.’ William sounded 100 per cent English, with the sort of accent that I instantly identified as posh, almost certainly the product of private education.

I nodded in agreement, drained the last of my beer, and set the glass down on the bar. I shot Fiona a little smile and followed William out of the room with Oscar at our heels. I had been wondering whether the young man might have been Valentina’s boyfriend – he probably wasn’t much older than her – or a distant relative of some sort, but referring to our host as Signor Viviani appeared to indicate that his relationship with the family was more likely a business one.

I followed him back along the corridor to the hall, where we turned down a different corridor to the left, at the end of which was a closed door. William stopped and knocked deferentially.

‘Avanti.’I recognised the voice of Bartolomeo.

William opened the door and announced me in formal tones. ‘Mr Armstrong to see you, Signor Viviani.’ He stepped back to let Oscar and me pass and then retired, pulling the door quietly closed behind him.

‘Thank you for coming. Please take a seat. Can I offer you a drink? Scotch? Help yourself.’ Bartolomeo indicated a half-empty glass of whisky in front of him and a collection of bottles standing on a nearby cabinet.

I shook my head and sat down on a fine old carved chair, upholstered with red velvet. ‘Thank you, but I’ve just had a beer in the lounge.’ I leant forward. ‘I hope you’re going to tell me why you’ve brought me here. I’ll be very interested to hear. By the way, would I be right in thinking that the fact that I’m a private investigator isn’t general knowledge?’ He nodded, and I went on. ‘Who does know, apart from you and Selena – your son, presumably?’

To my surprise, he shook his head. ‘No, just Selena and me – I thought it best. Now, let me tell you a bit more about why I’ve asked you here.’

I pulled out my notebook, keen to learn what had been intriguing me for three weeks now, and took notes as he continued.

‘There are several reasons. First, you’re a friend of Selena’s, and any friend of hers is a friend of mine. Second, you have an excellent reputation as a private investigator and, third and most importantly, Selena has assured me that you are utterly trustworthy and discreet. What I would like you to do for me, put simply, is to find out who might want to kill me and stop it from happening.’

His tone was deadpan, but I could hear the emotion behind his words. His eyes were concentrated on his clasped hands in front of him on the desktop, and I saw the fingertips twitch.Although he was trying hard to put on a brave face, it was all too clear that he was seriously worried.

I was quick to offer reassurance. ‘I’ll certainly do my best, although I’m not a professional bodyguard, and this house up here in the mountains is about as secure as it gets. You say you think somebody might want to kill you, but what makes you say that? Have there been any attempts on your life?’ The seed of an idea sown by his elder brother came to me. ‘Could there be a connection with the unfortunate death of your business partner, by any chance?’