Daggers and Men's Smiles by Jill Downie Read Free Book Online

cadaverously thin. Heavy lines ran down each side of his mouth, which was largely concealed by an unfashionably heavy moustache, and Moretti wondered whether the ponytail and the facial hair were to compensate for the receding hairline above deep-set, anxious eyes. His nails were bitten to the quick, and his hands fiddled constantly with the collar of his open-necked shirt, or stroked his forehead. His command of English seemed good, and Moretti decided not to switch into Italian, if possible. Otherwise, he would have to translate for his partner, which would slow things down considerably, or exclude her completely from the interrogation.
    â€œWe’ll do what we can, Mr. Bianchi. Certainly we’re grateful for the light we were able to use. Could you not work on something else while we’re out here?”
    â€œWork on something else,” Bianchi repeated. “You don’t understand, Inspector. We set up the day’s work in advance — the actors and technicians are called for certain times, and the lighting levels have to be decided upon with the cinematographer and the cameramen, depending on the needs of the scene and the weather conditions, and so on. These lights and cranes were in place for the scene we planned to shoot first — and which required the early light of day. That’s gone now. We’ve lost it.”
    â€œWhat scene were you going to shoot out here?”
    â€œWell, that’s the strange thing — as I was just telling the officer. It involved the violent death of a man suspected of betraying one of the principal characters in the film. And the murder weapon is a knife. It gives me the — creeps, you call it? Poor Toni!”
    â€œTell me something about Toni Albarosa — he was the marchesa’s son-in-law, I gather.”
    â€œYes, married to the eldest daughter, Anna. They live in Italy, not here. It isn’t the first marriage between Albarosas and Vannonis — at one point, the family coat of arms was actually combined, so he told me. He was a very nice lad — very hard-working.”
    â€œExperienced? As a location manager, I mean.”
    â€œNo, but he had what we needed, Inspector — contacts. Not all of the movie is being shot here, on your island, and Toni could open doors for me. He was the first member of the family I met, when he was on holiday in Venice, and it was he who suggested his mother-in-law’s property on Guernsey, when he heard the theme of Rastrellamento . He was a charming man — I’m sure you’re going to ask me if I can think of anyone who might want to do this, and I can’t. He didn’t have an enemy in the world.”
    â€œThen he was indeed a rare human being, sir. Few of us can say that.”
    â€œTrue. But compared with other members of his family —”
    Mario Bianchi broke off in mid-sentence, one hand pulling frenetically at his ponytail.
    â€œSo there were difficulties with some of the Albarosa and Vannoni clan?”
    Bianchi laughed in what he clearly hoped was a light-hearted manner. “Families, Inspector, families! Nothing in particular, but you’ll see what I mean when you interview them.”
    â€Which I should go and do now. Thank you, Signor Bianchi. We’ll try to get out of your way as quickly as possible. Oh —” Mario Bianchi had started to walk away toward his waiting crew, when Moretti called him back, “— the woman who arrived on the Ducati. Is that Anna, his wife?”
    Bianchi turned. He was laughing again, but this time he seemed genuinely amused. “No, Inspector. That was Giulia Vannoni, the marchesa’s niece. She just arrived, and is visiting the marchesa at the moment. Wife —” The director pointed to the Ducati, which still stood on the terrace, gleaming in the light. Painted on one flank was a pink lily, its petals tipped with gold.
    â€œI’m sorry — I don’t