Free Into the Killer Sphere by Stefania Mattana Page A

on our suspects’ list, right? So, nothing new,” replied Angelo quietly. Chase took a deep breath and bit his tongue because he was not in the habit of letting Angelo hear the only things he really understood in English: obscenities.
    "Are you crazy or what? They just tried to kill the old lady and you've got nothing to say. What if Agata’s killed on the way to the church?" Chase challenged.
    "So you're saying the murderer is inside the same car as Signora Galli? Why didn’t you tell me so if you knew it?"
    Angelo could be really annoying when he applied himself. Not least because Rachele, whom the other woman suspected, was in another car.
    “Never mind,” Chase growled.
    Angelo stayed silent for a while, so long that Chase thought that perhaps he’d been cut off.
    “Did the murderer want to kill Agata, in your opinion?”
    “I don’t know, big boy. It was a pretty extreme action. Either the murderer is losing control or it was a threat. Not a slight, veiled threat, I must say, it almost flattened her.”
    “Look,” Angelo cut him short, “I’ll keep an eye on them. You stay there, if you don’t mind. See you later.” And he quickly hung up.
    Chase remained alone in the garden, in silence, the wind hissing into his ears. He decided to snoop around to kill time until they got back from the funeral. He didn’t believe the murderer would act in such a crowded place as a church, especially during the funeral of a relative (or employer, in Ramona’s case). That would be too foolish.
     
    Before going inside the villa, his instinct told him to explore the outside and the whole garden, just to be sure he hadn’t missed anything relevant. What had Ramona meant with that parting statement? Did she know something? Was she afraid of someone, or did she want to get things sorted out after the pot falling? Sorting out things was meant to be her specialty, after all.
    The dogs started barking as soon as they spotted Chase approaching their enclosure. There were five, all some sort of pedigree hunting dog. There were five different little wooden buildings on one side of the pen which had to be the dogs’ kennels, although they actually seemed like miniature houses.
    Every dog had a pretty, likeable snout and a coloured collar with its name on. Chase could only see the marks of the inscription on the metal but couldn’t read the names, as the dogs were moving too much: it was a merry confusion of barks, paws on the fence and wagging tails.
    Despite Chase patting them, the dogs didn’t stop making a noise, so Chase left them and went on past the paved area and hedges, from where he could catch sight of the fruit garden.
    It was a very nice place, the neatest area of the whole garden. There was a pail and a harvesting bin every two or three trees. Some ladders were placed here and there, either leaning against the trunks or between the trees. Chase walked around the garden, reaching the patio again: now the point of view of the place was different. And it revealed a surprise for Chase. While exploring it, Chase noticed a dark, hidden hollow below the small flight of stone stairs on the patio. Chase snooped within the corner and saw a wicker basket.
    He decided not to touch it because he didn’t have any gloves with him, and made a mental note to bring a pair with him next time. If there was a next time, of course. He carefully moved the basket to inspect it using the corner of his blue shirt. His trousers already had a chocolate stain after all, so why not sacrifice his shirt too?
    Inside he found muddy cloths, some shears, a pair of work gloves and other small gardening tools. At the bottom of the basket, he also found some glass splinters.
    “ They must belong to the chandelier,” he thought.
    He entered the villa, heading upstairs. The main hallway was decorated with a series of pictures and lithographs of ancient and medieval Tursenia, while the bathroom walls were smooth and immaculate. The bedrooms were all