class varietal to begin with. Don’t tell anyone here I said that, though!’
They had just started to eat when the phone rang.
‘Damn!’ said Manlio. ‘If it’s those reporters again…’
But it wasn’t. After some monosyllabic exchanges, he turned to Zen.
‘It’s for you.’
Zen stared at him, then went over and took the phone.
‘Yes?’
‘ Hello again.’
It was the same dehumanized voice which had called him at his hotel that morning, a thin crackle like an aluminium can crushed in the hand.
‘First of all, a word of warning. Last time you hung up on me. That was a mistake I would advise you not to repeat if you are to have any chance of solving this puzzle before the solution is, so to speak, thrust upon you.’
‘How did you know I was here?’
He had spoken without thinking, and was answered with a tinny laugh.
‘You still don’t seem to understand. I ask the questions. You answer them. A bit of a change for someone in your position, but you’ll get used to it. Now, then, have you made any progress with the clue I gave you last night?’
This time, Zen held his tongue.
‘No? Via Strozzi, number twenty-four doesn’t ring a bell? Odd, really, given how many times you rang the bell there. I wonder if you’re really giving this matter your full attention. Let’s try clue number two. A name, this time. Amalia. Surely that must mean something? Amalia. Think about it. I’ll be in touch soon, and I hope that next time you’ll have something to say for yourself. Frankly, these one-sided conversations are becoming rather boring.’
The line went dead. Zen returned to the table and started in on his lukewarm slab of frittata.
‘Work?’ asked Manlio Vincenzo.
Zen took another sip of the Vincenzo Barbaresco.
‘This actually isn’t so bad,’ he said, to change the subject. ‘It stays with you, if you know what I mean. Some wines you drink and they’re gone, but this…’
‘It has a long finish, yes.’
Manlio gouged out another slab of Parmesan from the wheel with the special wedge-shaped tool used for this purpose.
‘Try it with this.’
Zen bit into the pungent, siliceous cheese and drank some more wine.
‘Even better,’ he pronounced. ‘“A long finish”, eh?’
He looked at his host and smiled cunningly.
‘Just what we both need in the present case, Signor Vincenzo.’
‘Are you suggesting that our interests are identical?’
‘Assuming you’re not guilty, of course.’
Manlio Vincenzo gave a light, cynical laugh.
‘Well, let’s assume that, shall we? For the sake of argument. How do our interests coincide, and what do you mean by “a long finish”?’
Aurelio Zen leaned back and lit a cigarette.
‘As I understand it, Signor Vincenzo, you’ve been released on a conditional basis because of a presumed link between the killing of this Beppe Gallizio, which you clearly could not have committed, and that of your father.’
Manlio nodded assent.
‘That’s good news, but it provides only a presumption of innocence in your regard,’ Zen went on. ‘Some piece of evidence could come to light at any moment which would tilt the balance the other way, sending you back to prison and me to Sicily.’
‘Sicily?’
Zen gave a brief description of the reason why he had been sent to Piedmont, this time — since the reference was unattributable — mentioning the name of the famous director in question. As he had hoped, Manlio Vincenzo was suitably impressed, albeit in a negative way.
‘So that’s how the system works!’ he exclaimed. ‘No wonder things are in the state they are.’
Zen smiled thinly.
‘“What matter the road, provided it leads to paradise?” I’ll find out who killed your father, Signor Vincenzo. But I need a little more time to do that, and to let the front-line posts in Sicily get filled. And you need to make your wine.’
Manlio Vincenzo picked up a lump of Parmesan and started to nibble.
‘And just how do we achieve that?’
‘I need more information, in particular in an area which may be delicate or painful for you to discuss. You’ve told me that the real reason for the bad feeling between you and your father was about technical matters relating to wine-making.’
‘No, no! You haven’t understood. That was just one of the symptoms. What really infuriated him was that by sending me abroad, outside his sphere of control, he had created — as he saw it — a monster of ingratitude who refused to toe the paternal line any longer.’
Zen nodded.
‘I’ve been told that at the village festa he specifically accused you of homosexual tendencies, and of a liaison with someone called Andrea. Forgive me prying into your personal life, but is that true or not?’
To Zen’s surprise, Manlio Vincenzo laughed.
‘It’s certainly true that I’m involved romantically with someone called Andrea,’ he said in a tone laden with irony. ‘But the real reason my father made such a fuss about my supposed homosexuality was that it jeopardized his long-term plans for acquiring the Faigano estate.’
‘Gianni and Maurizio Faigano?’
Manlio rose, filled the caffettiera with grounds and water, screwed it together and set it on the stove.
‘They’re neighbours of ours. There’s only one daughter — a very late child — and no other heirs, so when the brothers die, she’ll inherit the entire property. It’s quite extensive, with some very good fields bordering ours, which produce excellent wine.’
‘So your father wanted you to marry Lisa Faigano.’
Manlio Vincenzo laughed.
‘The idea’s absurd! I’ve only met the child a few times. She’s seventeen and I’m almost thirty. My own inclinations aside, there’s no possible reason to suppose that she would have any interest in marrying me. In any case, her father would never agree. Maurizio and his brother are no friends of ours. In fact, we’re barely on speaking terms.’
‘Why’s that?’ Zen asked.
Manlio shrugged.
‘It’s just one of those things which are so common around here. You run up against them every so often, and soon learn not to ask questions. No one wants to talk about it, no one will explain. It’s just a given, like the lie of the land.’
‘Did you point this out to your father?’
‘Of course.’
‘What did he say?’
Manlio Vincenzo did not answer right away. He came back to the table and took another careful taste of wine.
‘He said, “Just get her pregnant, I’ll do the rest.”’
There was a silence.
‘I told him that times had changed, that things don’t work like that any more. “Leave that to me,” he said. “Just get her in the family way, that’s all I’m asking.” That was when I made the mistake of mentioning that I was already involved with someone else.’
The coffee came burbling up the spout and spluttered loudly. Manlio removed the pot and poured out two cups.
