Free The House of Serenades by Lina Simoni Page B

Giuseppe begged. “Do what you can with the information I gave you. Check on Roberto Passalacqua, Guido Orengo, and Ivano Bo. I can assure you that the reason for my disagreement with Mister Bo is not relevant to this investigation.”
    Antonio spoke crossly. “That is for me to say.” He paused. “All right, I’ll work with what you told me for the moment. You may have to speak though, sooner or later.”
    “Perhaps,” Giuseppe conceded, “but not now.”
    Antonio sighed. “Anyone else I should know about?”
    “No one comes to mind,” Giuseppe said. “Of course there are all the people who lost lawsuits against me or representatives of my firm, but it’d be difficult to make a list of all the names. My firm is involved in hundreds of cases.”
    Antonio pondered a moment. “It may not be necessary to investigate everyone who lost a case against your firm. Let’s keep to these three suspects for now. Call me immediately should more letters arrive.”
    “I certainly will, Antonio. I feel better now. Discussing this matter with you makes it seem less dramatic.”
    “I’m glad. Still, you should be careful,” Antonio pointed out. “We may have an insane mind out there waiting for the right occasion to hurt you and your family. If I may, I’d like to suggest that you and your wife don’t take the chance of walking the streets unescorted.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind. And I’ll talk to Matilda right away.”
    Antonio nodded. “Good. So she, too, can take precautions. I shall now leave. May I keep the letters?”
    “Suit yourself, Antonio. They are all yours.”
    Alone again in the reading room after Antonio’s departure, Giuseppe returned to his armchair, where he spent a long time sitting still, scrutinizing the ceiling. At exactly five PM, he stood up and headed for the blue parlor. As he turned the corner of the hallway, he saw Matilda through the parlor open door: she was alone, seated on the loveseat, embroidering a silky cloth. She looked radiant in her blue dress, and her silvery hair shone in the orange light of the late afternoon. At the door, he stood still awhile, absorbed in the rhythmic movements of his wife’s thin hands along the edge of the cloth. At some point, Matilda lifted her head. She dropped the cloth on her lap. She said, “Giuseppe! You startled me.”
    He spoke with no sentiment. “We must talk.” He sat next to her and in the fifteen minutes that followed summarized the letters’ contents and his conversation with Antonio, leaving out of his narrative the names of the three suspects.
    Matilda listened in silence. When Giuseppe stopped talking, she took his hand. “You should have spoken earlier, darling. I didn’t know what to make of your strange mood. Now, at least, I understand. What should we do?”
    “Nothing, for the moment,” Giuseppe said. “Let’s wait and see what Antonio finds out. Meanwhile, we should be careful. Don’t go anywhere unless a staff member accompanies you. Understood?”
    “Yes, of course,” Matilda said. “Do you think we are in serious danger?”
    “I can’t say,” Giuseppe admitted. “Neither can Antonio for the moment. Don’t worry though. He’ll protect us. I’ll leave now. I haven’t been at the office all day and I’d like to go in for a few hours before the day ends.”
    “Please don’t go alone,” Matilda warned him. “Have Guglielmo or the gardener drive you.”
    He nodded. “I’ll ask the gardener to take me to the office and then back home.”
    “Don’t be late, darling,” Matilda added, glancing at the clock. “We have dinner guests.”
    “Who?”
    “Umberto, Costanza, and Raimondo. Dinner will be served at quarter to eight.”
    “I’ll be home at seven-thirty,” he said, then left the blue parlor and asked Guglielmo to fetch his hat and light coat.
    In the hallway, Eugenia pulled a rope that hung from the ceiling. There was no sound, because the other end of the rope, the one with a bell attached to