The Imbroglio at the Villa Pozzi (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 6) Read Online Free Page A

their passengers to their various destinations. Thus was Angela occupied, in company with her friend Elsa Peters, the very afternoon after her arrival in Stresa. She had left the Ainsleys’ cramped apartment without much regret that morning, and had secured herself a large, well-appointed room at the hotel. It had a four-posted bed, a lake view and a balcony, all of which pleased her very much, and caused her to reflect that in such comfortable surroundings perhaps a little light detective-work would not be so unpleasant after all. Moreover, she had soon discovered that Mrs. Peters was staying at the same hotel, and the two ladies were now sipping cool drinks and making plans to visit various places in the vicinity, while Angela studiously forgot the fact that she was only meant to be staying for a day or two.
    ‘You can’t go without first seeing the Borromean Islands,’ Elsa was saying. ‘The Isola Bella has the most magnificent terraced gardens. I never come to Stresa without taking a trip out on the lake. Let’s go together, shall we? What about tomorrow? I always love to see people’s faces when they see it for the first time.’
    Angela laughed at Elsa’s enthusiasm and agreed to the proposal.
    ‘Ah, Mrs. Peters, I see you are instructing your friend in the beauties of our lago ,’ said a voice just then, and the ladies looked up to see a jovial-looking man of middle age and luxuriant moustache standing by their table. He beamed at Elsa and gave a little bow to Angela. ‘ Buongiorno signora , I am Morandi, the owner of this hotel, and you are Mrs. Marchmont, yes?’ Angela assented, and he went on, ‘You see, it is my business to know the names of all of my guests—especially the beautiful ladies. The English women are all elegantissime .’
    He said it so sentimentally and was so patently sincere that Angela had to suppress a smile.
    ‘Mr. Morandi knows absolutely everything, and is extremely helpful to us poor, ignorant English tourists,’ said Elsa. ‘He has been most kind to me, too—especially when I came here shortly after my husband died a few years ago. I believe you gave me the best room, although I hadn’t paid for it, didn’t you? Come now, admit it.’
    Mr. Morandi looked about him in exaggerated fashion and put his finger over his lips.
    ‘Quiet!’ he said, ‘Or everyone will think I am not a hard business-man and you will ruin me.’ He beamed again and invited himself to sit down. He and Elsa were evidently old friends, and Angela listened in silence as they gossiped about mutual acquaintances and exchanged news of their families. Mr. Morandi was a widower too, with a son who worked in the hotel restaurant and gave him nothing but worry, being a lazy fannullone . The ladies duly expressed their sympathy and their hopes that young Vittorio would shortly come to his senses and become a useful member of society. Mr. Morandi shrugged expressively and glanced up at the heavens as though to say that the matter was out of his hands.
    ‘Isn’t that Mr. Sheridan?’ said Elsa, who had just spotted someone. Angela looked and saw a well-built, smartly-dressed man of forty-five or so emerging from the hotel onto the terrace. He sat down at a table in the corner and summoned a waiter, then caught sight of Mr. Morandi and held up his hand in salutation.
    ‘I think I’ve heard his name,’ said Angela. ‘Doesn’t he live here?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Mr. Morandi, acknowledging the gesture. ‘He and his wife live at the Villa Pozzi, not far from here. Perhaps you have seen it? It is the yellow house with the very beautiful gardens, set a little back from the lake.’
    ‘No, I haven’t seen it,’ said Angela.
    ‘I dare say you will,’ said Elsa. ‘Mr. Sheridan is very sociable and likes nothing better than to invite everyone he meets to come and see his exotic plants. I met him and his wife when I came here last year and we had a very pleasant picnic at the villa one afternoon.’
    ‘I am