‘What did your father say to that?’ asked Zen.
‘He said he didn’t give a damn where I chose to stick it for pleasure. This was business, and my duty to the family was to marry Lisa Faigano, by force if necessary.’
He broke off, his head cocked to one side like a dog on the scent. Then Zen, too, heard the sound of a car engine, very faintly at first, but rapidly confirming its nearing presence.
‘Now what?’ demanded Manlio.
The car — a diesel, by the sound of it — pulled up in the courtyard. Manlio had got to his feet and was heading towards the door when it was flung open by a young woman in her mid-twenties wearing a long beige coat over a pullover and jeans. She shrieked something in English, and rushed to embrace Manlio Vincenzo, who reciprocated fervently.
‘Have you got any money?’ the woman asked, switching to Italian. ‘I forgot to change any at the airport and I have to pay the taxi. It’s so wonderful to see you, and you’re looking so well! I think you’ve lost a bit of weight, in fact. It suits you.’
Manlio Vincenzo turned to his guest in some embarrassment.
‘Do forgive us, dottore!’ he said. ‘I phoned last night when my lawyer told me the good news, but I had no idea…’
Zen stood up and bowed politely.
‘ Molto lieto, signorina. ’
The formal phrase recalled Manlio Vincenzo to the proprieties.
‘But of course you don’t know each other! This is Vice-Questore Aurelio Zen, my dear. Dottor Zen, allow me to introduce my fiancee, Andrea Rodriguez.’
‘Oh, not so bad,’ Minot replied to the brothers’ rhetorical enquiry as to how it was going. ‘Only too many cops, to tell you the truth. I gave one a lift this morning. You remember that character who showed up at the bar, pretending to be a reporter from Naples? He’s trying to pass himself off as a wine dealer now. And no sooner had I got home, than Pascal dropped by.’
Gianni Faigano nodded.
‘Thanks for the tip-off. I was able to lead the nosy bastard a merry dance and get a free feed into the bargain.’
‘I just wish they’d get the whole thing cleared up, one way or another,’ Maurizio said dourly. ‘All these cops hanging around makes things like this even more risky.’
He gestured towards the demijohns of wine in the shed beside which Minot had parked his truck. He was to take them to the cantina run by Bruno Scorrone, who would subsequently work a miracle of the loaves-and-fishes variety on the contents and split the profits with the Faigano brothers. Minot got paid a flat-rate transportation fee.
‘Speaking of which,’ Minot remarked lightly, ‘I need to ask you both a favour.’
The brothers exchanged a glance.
‘What sort of favour?’ asked Gianni.
‘Let’s load the wine, then we’ll talk.’
The job took the best part of twenty minutes. Lifting the hundred litre damigiane on to the bed of the truck was hard enough, but the really tricky part was ensuring that they were set down carefully enough to avoid breakage. In the old days, the glass was covered with a layer of wicker or rope, but now there was just a sheath of coloured plastic matting with little or no give.
Once the truck was safely loaded, the three men went inside for a glass of the product and a smoke.
‘So, two policemen in one day, eh?’ Maurizio remarked once they were seated. ‘What are things coming to?’
This was just an opening gambit in the match they were about to play, of no importance in itself. Someone had to move first. It was what happened afterwards that would determine the result.
‘That’s right,’ said Minot. ‘When I was driving home after a night in the woods, I saw someone walking up from the station towards the village. I naturally stopped and offered him a ride, only to find that it was our friend the spy. I don’t think he recognized me, but I knew him all right, with those stitches in his forehead.’
A silence fell.
‘Terrible business about Beppe,’ remarked Gianni Faigano.
‘Terrible,’ echoed Minot.
‘Why should he want to do something like that?’ Maurizio wondered aloud. ‘I spoke to him only a few days ago, and he seemed perfectly normal then.’
‘Maybe he didn’t do it himself,’ suggested Minot quietly.
Gianni looked at him.
‘How do you mean?’
Minot relit his roll-up, which had gone out.
‘Someone told me that you were driving into Alba that morning, and saw a truck parked close to where Beppe was killed.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ snapped Maurizio. ‘We were busy all day filling those demijohns.’
‘Well, someone saw a truck there,’ said Minot. ‘Told the Carabinieri about it, too. That’s how I found out, from Pascal.’
He finished his wine and poured another glass.
‘Take it easy,’ cautioned Maurizio.
Minot laughed harshly.
‘Don’t worry! If I get arrested, it won’t be for drunk driving.’
The silence reformed, a swirling opacity like one of the morning fogs for which the region was notorious.
‘What were you two doing the night Beppe was shot?’ asked Minot, not looking at them.
Gianni gave a humourless laugh.
‘Eh, you’ve been spending too much time with cops all right, Minot. You’re beginning to sound like one yourself!’
Minot smiled.
‘Fair enough. But let’s say a cop asked you the same question, what would you tell him?’
‘The truth, of course,’ Maurizio retorted irritably. ‘We spent the evening watching TV and then went to bed.’
‘Was Lisa here?’
‘What the hell is…’ Gianni began.
‘Was she?’ Minot insisted, speaking to Maurizio.
‘She was at her aunt’s house in Alba.’
‘So you don’t have any witnesses to confirm your story,’ Minot concluded. ‘In theory, you could have gone out that night, followed Beppe down to the woods and shot him.’
‘Are you out of your mind?’ yelled Gianni Faigano, pushing back his chair and standing up.
Minot held up his hands in a calming gesture.
‘Take it easy, Gianni. I know you didn’t kill Beppe. I didn’t either, but that didn’t stop Pascal from coming round and questioning me about it. Sooner or later it’ll be your turn. Just think how much easier everything would be if we all had a nice, solid alibi.’
‘Well, that’s too bad,’ snapped Maurizio, ‘because we don’t.’
‘I do,’ replied Minot with his nagging smile.
‘Good for you.’
‘I was out after truffles that night, miles from where Beppe was shot. And I wasn’t alone.’
‘Well, that’s a stroke of luck. Who did you go out with?’
‘With you two.’
The brothers stared at him.
‘We met here at midnight,’ Minot continued calmly, ‘and drove over to a patch I know of near Neviglie. You provided the dogs, I provided the location. We didn’t have much luck, as it turned out, but we stuck at it and didn’t get home until seven o’clock the next morning. An hour after Beppe was shot.’
Gianni Faigano shook his head.
