Fabrizio felt suddenly unsure of himself. He wanted to bring up the creature that was stalking the woods of Volterra, but he didn’t have the courage to say another word. He hesitated a moment, with his hands resting on the counter and his head low to avoid those eyes, but then he swallowed the last of his wine and got up, leaving the money on the counter.
Their conversation hadn’t lasted long, but as he crossed the room he noticed that the dancer had gone and the few remaining customers were keeping their voices low as they sipped at their wine. Fabrizio walked towards his car, but all at once the outside lights flickered off and the neon sign advertising the tavern went out, plunging him into total darkness.
Before his eyes could adapt he heard a low growling coming from his left and he realized he was dead. He dashed in the direction of the car; its light colour made it slightly visible on the other side of the courtyard. But he never reached it. A light blinded him and he felt a strong impact, an intense pain in his head and side, then nothing more.
When he opened his eyes again he saw a ghostly image in front of him, a face illuminated from below by the beam of a torch, but the voice he heard reassured him. ‘My God! I saw you at the last moment. You were running straight for me! I braked, but you were already under the wheels. How do you feel? Don’t move. Wait, I’ll call an ambulance.’
‘Oh, man, that hurt. But… who are you?’
‘Who am I? I’m Francesca. Don’t you recognize me?’ she cried, flashing the torch at her face again. She started dialling for emergency assistance on her mobile phone, but Fabrizio stopped her and got to his feet, holding on to the bumper of her Jeep.
‘No, it’s OK. I’m fine. Just a few bumps and bruises…’ Then, as he suddenly remembered what had terrified him, he instinctively turned his back to the car and grabbed on to the girl’s arm. ‘The dog… the beast… it’s here…’
‘A dog?’ said Francesca. ‘A herd of sheep just passed by with a shepherd’s dog. You can still hear the bells ringing. Listen.’
Fabrizio heard the distant tinkling of bells as the flock wandered off.
‘Good heavens!’ exclaimed Francesca, shining the torch on him. ‘You look awful! Come inside. You need something to drink.’
Fabrizio noticed that the neon sign had begun glowing again and soon regained full force. The outdoor lights were still off.
He shook his head. ‘I just came from there,’ he said, ‘and I didn’t like it. But what are you doing here?’
Francesca finally switched off the torch and came close. ‘I was coming to see you, heading towards your house,’ she said, ‘when I saw you sailing down the regional road, crossing the state road and then pulling off on to that track in the middle of the fields. I tried to keep up, and I even flashed my headlights a couple of times, but you must have had your mind on something else. I guess you didn’t see me. At a certain point I lost you and I took a wrong turn and ended up in the courtyard of a farmhouse. So I turned back and went the other way until, bang, I found you. I really found you. Are you sure there’s nothing broken?’
‘Yeah, I’m sure,’ said Fabrizio. ‘Don’t worry. There’s just this bump on my head that hurts like hell. I could do with some ice. But why were you looking for me in the first place?’
Francesca walked him back to his car. ‘I’ve got news for you. Big news. Listen, have you eaten? We can put some ice on your head and make spaghetti at my house and I’ll tell you what I’ve found. If you feel like driving, you can follow me. Just make sure you don’t take any wrong turns!’
She gave him a kiss and Fabrizio responded with passion. The girl’s scent, her soft lips, her arms around his neck gave him a sense of security and warmth that he needed desperately just then. When he pulled her close he could feel her full, round breasts pressing against his chest. He’d never suspected as much, since Francesca usually wore oversized shirts and trousers that didn’t accentuate her femininity.
He said, ‘Well, God bless you, Dr Dionisi. Are you still trying to kill me?’
He got into his car, started up the engine and waited until she reached her Jeep. Then, when she had pulled out, he followed her.
Once they were on the state road, Francesca turned right and then left down the local road that led to Poggetto, where she lived. She stopped to open the gate with her remote control and Fabrizio slowed to a stop as well. Just then the mobile phone rang. It was Marcello Reggiani.
‘Hi there, Lieutenant. How’s it going?’
‘Awful. The only good news to report is that we pinpointed the source of those phone calls.’
‘The woman’s voice?’
‘Yes, right.’
‘So where is she located?’ asked Fabrizio, mentally picturing the place he’d just left.
‘A spot about four kilometres from your house. It’s called La Casaccia and it’s owned by a guy named Montanari. Pietro Montanari.’
The gate had opened and Francesca was pulling into the garage. Fabrizio was stunned at Reggiani’s information.
‘Are you sure?’ he asked.
‘Yes. At least the guys in the lab are. Why?’
‘What kind of a place is it?’ insisted Fabrizio, still thinking it might match up with the tavern.
‘It’s a farm with an old house on it. At the Val d’Era kilometre marker number five, on the left.’
Completely the opposite direction from where he’d just been. Fabrizio didn’t know what to think.
He said, ‘Nice work. Where do we go from here?’
‘I’ve put a bug on the line and we’re checking the area for suspicious activity. I’ll keep you informed.’
Francesca had already opened the door and turned on the switch in the hall. As he drew close, the light on inside the house and the girl’s smile warmed his heart.
‘Come on in,’ she said. ‘I’ll get that ice for you.’
10
FRANCESCA TOOK SOME ice cubes from the freezer and put them in a plastic bag, which she wrapped in a towel and handed to Fabrizio. He placed it on his forehead where it hurt and she started on dinner.
Francesca lived in a converted farmhouse and the big kitchen preserved all its old-fashioned charm. The stove was built into the masonry and a hearth stood at the centre of the main wall, with copper pots and pans hanging on either side of the chimney breast, as bright and shiny as if they had just been polished. The table in the middle of the room was very old and designed for a big traditional family. Francesca set it for two, placing a couple of mats, plates and cutlery at one end. The wind was picking up outside and they soon heard the tapping of rain on the porch roof and on the windowpanes.
‘We needed this water,’ said Francesca as she stirred the tomato sauce. ‘My grapevines were dying of thirst.’
‘I didn’t know you had a vineyard,’ said Fabrizio.
‘It’s my father’s actually, but I’m an only child and he’s quite elderly. He’s been retired for years and lives with my mother in Siena. I try to take care of this place as best I can, but I don’t have much time, as you know.’
Fabrizio watched her lift the pot’s lid to check the boil and measure out the spaghetti.
‘How hungry are you?’ she asked, turning.
‘Very,’ said Fabrizio. ‘All I had for lunch was a little prosciutto with some vegetables.’
‘How’s your head?’
‘Better.’
‘Good. Watch the pot while I go and change out of these dusty clothes. There’s wine in the fridge. Help yourself, and pour a glass for me too.’
She disappeared down the hall and he could hear the sound of a door opening and closing and then the shower running. Fabrizio surprised himself by imagining her nude under the pounding water and he smiled: maybe there would be something between them after all. Or maybe there already was and he hadn’t noticed. He could still taste
