Free Broken Chord by Margaret Moore Page B

her side was the fact that to walk to it she had to intersect the path that led to the farmhouse. That too was invisible from the pool but she knew it was there and it rankled. It was the only flaw in the perfection of her beautiful villa and its lovely grounds. It was about five hundred metres away from the house, thankfully out of sight, because it was an appalling eyesore. The farmhouse itselfcould have been charming. Totally unpretentious, it had been built at the turn of the century to house the then ‘ fattore ’, the overseer, and his large family. At that time the extensive farmland, a large part of which had been sold off over the years for development, had required a considerable workforce. The vineyards and olive groves, the livestock and horses had all been taken care of by the overseer, his family and hired labourers. Now, there was only the large park with the olive trees. The vineyards had gone, along with the livestock, many years ago, to pay off an ancestor’s gambling debts. The descendants of the last overseer, a family of increasing lack of worth, still lived in the house and nothing that Ursula could do would make them budge. Her aunt had been too old and feeble to deal with the problem and had allowed them to rule the roost. Besides, the old man used to do small chores around the house, set the fires and look after her aunt’s numerous cats. The cats had been removed by Ursula shortly after her aunt’s death and the old man had been told to keep away. She knew that he was furious about the cats but it was none of his business. She wanted him out of the farmhouse but he wouldn’t go and the question, now in the hands of her lawyer, was destined to be an on-going misery for years. Thinking about it now, she added it to the sum of the things that were preventing her from enjoying life: Marianna’s ridiculous love-affair and subsequent moodiness, Teo’s marriage and this.
    She got out of the water swiftly, threw on a towelling robe and marched back towards the house. At least she could try and do something about this matter. It was worth a try.
     
    Maresciallo Spadaccia, in charge of the local police station, looked at the first letter, read it, read it again and then picked up the second one and slowly read that too. Piero shifted in his chair. He was beginning to wonder if the man could actually read. He coughed as a reminder that he was there. The policeman put the second letter down, arranged it carefully next to the first one, stared at them both for a moment and then said. “I think the same person wrote the two letters.”
    Piero was flabbergasted. “Of course! It never occurred tome that it could be two people. I mean, in the second letter he mentions the first.”
    “Yes. Quite. Has the Signora ever received any verbal threats, phone calls and so on?”
    “No, no. I told you she doesn’t know about the letters. I thought it best to see you first without upsetting her for nothing.”
    “Well, I see your point, but it’s not nothing, is it. It’s an obvious threat.”
    “I thought that maybe there was someone known to you who has done this sort of thing before.”
    “No. No. I’m afraid not. We’ve never had anything like this before.”
    “So you have no idea who could be sending them?”
    “No, do you? What about some ex-employee with a grudge trying to frighten her?”
    “Please. I really don’t think that’s the case. I can’t think of anyone.”
    “Well, leave it with me. I don’t know what I can do about it, but we’ll open a file, just to cover ourselves in case anything happens.”
    “What do you mean, anything?”
    “Well, it sounds threatening. I think you should warn the Signora to be very careful.”
    “So you think I should tell her?”
    “Yes, at this point I do. After all in the normal course of events she would have opened these letters herself.”
    “Yes, of course. Alright, I’ll tell her, but I don’t know that it’s a good idea.”
    “Why, is