It was immediately evident that the person who had come into the room during the night was looking for something, but the search had been done carefully, so as not to make noise. The drawers of the two dressers were open, the clothing in them left in a jumbled mess. Empty suitcases that Rhonda had likely stored somewhere else now lay open in the middle of the floor. The mattress was slightly ajar and the pillow had been pushed to one side. The burglar was not trying to trash the room, but no attempt was made to hide the search either. The two men surveyed the clutter without touching anything.
“He could have found what he was looking for or not,” said LoGuercio. “We won’t know from looking at this place. The forensic crew will go over it, but I doubt if they’ll find anything. Anyone who watches TV would know to wear gloves. Let’s see if we can get more information from the women.” He turned and walked back to the living room, followed by Rick. Francine and Gina were still sitting on the sofa.
Rick took the lead. “What can you tell us about last night? Did you go into Orvieto for dinner?”
Francine gestured at Gina, indicating she should answer.
“No, Rick, we ate here. We’d gone to a little store a few miles down the road and bought some cold cuts, cheese, and bread, as well as a bottle of wine. We came back here and had that. I was pretty exhausted, with everything going on, and went to bed early. I think the cool weather has also worn me out, and it makes for good sleeping weather. I didn’t hear anything, but I’m a very sound sleeper.”
Rick interpreted and then turned to Francine. “Anything to add?”
She acted like the student who didn’t want to be called on by the teacher. “No, that’s what happened. I stayed up a bit longer, read a few pages from a book, and went to bed myself. Dropped right off.”
“Same story,” Rick said to LoGuercio.
The policeman was leaning against the fireplace, not hiding his impatience with the situation. “I have to call the station, excuse me a moment.” He walked to the doors to the patio, opened them and walked outside.
Francine watched him leave and got quickly to her feet. “Rick, can I talk to you in the kitchen for a moment?”
“Sure,” Rick answered.
She motioned toward an arched doorway and the two of them left Gina staring through the glass doors at the policeman talking on the cell phone under the pergola outside. The kitchen combined modern practicality with the feel of a country house. Tiles formed rows on the walls behind the counters and stove, their colors matching the rest of the room’s décor. Instead of an Italian espresso pot on the stove, a shiny American-style coffeemaker sat on the end of the counter, next to a set of mugs. There was a dishwasher, but the sink was full of cups and silverware. In the center of the room stood a butcher block table and four metal stools. Rick decided that if the renters were serious cooks they could work very well in this kitchen, but doubted that happened very often. Not with all the good restaurants just up the road in town.
Francine pulled a glass off the shelf and uncorked an already open bottle of wine. She held up a glass and gave him a questioning look.
“Too early for me, Francine, but it looks like you need something after this break-in. Go right ahead.” He noticed that, ironically, the label was Sonnomonte, the vineyard owned by Vincenzo Aragona. As the dark red wine flowed into her glass something else occurred to him, but his thought was interrupted by her voice. Before speaking she had looked back toward the other room, as if to confirm they were out of earshot of Gina.
“Rick, is Donato a suspect in all this?”
The question took him by surprise. “I, uh, don’t think the inspector has ruled anyone out, if that’s what you mean. Do you have reason to think he should be a suspect?”
She shook her head quickly. “No, no. That’s not what I meant. It’s just…” She glanced again back into the room before answering. “Rick, I feel like I can talk to you about this. You see, Donato told me the police want to talk to him again. The inspector had already talked to him once, and now—”
“Wait a minute, Francine. When did Donato tell you this?”
Her eyes were wide, but blinking quickly. “You might as well know. He was here last night, after Gina went to bed. You won’t tell the inspector, will you?”
“The forensics team will be here soon and they will find his fingerprints.” He didn’t point out that, being the caretaker, Donato’s prints around the villa would be expected.
Francine turned pale. “Oh God, you’re right. Then you must tell the inspector that he was in my sight the whole time he was here.”
Rick didn’t want to think about that one. “You saw him drive away? What time was that?”
“Yes, he drove off after midnight. Closer to one, maybe. I saw him go down the driveway.”
So that was before the break-in took place, Rick calculated. But Donato could have come back, knowing both women were out for the night. Why would he do that? If he’d wanted to take something from the villa, he had a key and could have come during the day, when they were out seeing the sights. No, it made no sense that Donato would want to rob the place at all. Unless the guy was working for someone else; but again, why break in at night? Rick was trying to figure it all out when he heard the door to the patio open and close. Francine smiled weakly at him and they walked into the other room. Gina was in the same place, but now she was staring at a small book in her lap. Tears welled
