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

afraid you will not see Mrs. Sheridan this time,’ said Mr. Morandi. ‘She is in England, visiting her family.’ He glanced up and started, for another man had just then appeared silently at his shoulder. ‘Ah! It is D’Onofrio. I did not see you there. Mrs. Peters, Mrs. Marchmont, this is Mr. D’Onofrio, our capo di polizia . It is his job to protect us all from thieves and assassins.’
    ‘Goodness,’ said Elsa. ‘Do you have a lot of that sort of thing here?’
    ‘Very little,’ said Mr. Morandi slyly, ‘thanks to D’Onofrio.’
    Mr. D’Onofrio nodded impassively. He had the wary, observant expression of many policemen and an air about him which suggested that nothing could ever surprise him. He was duly invited to sit down and did so.
    ‘Morandi is right,’ he said. ‘It is very quiet here. There is not the violence and the criminality of Milano, for example.’ An expression of disgust passed briefly across his face at the mention of the undisciplined city. ‘In Stresa there are one or two people who like to steal things from the foreigners, but we know who they are and we catch them quickly. And sometimes a man shoots his wife when she looks at another man,’ he went on almost as an afterthought. ‘But that is a problem only for her. The tourists know nothing of it.’
    He fell silent as two men in military uniform passed by and nodded politely at him. He returned the nod and watched them with narrowed eyes as they continued on their way. Once they were out of earshot Mr. Morandi said something in a low voice in Italian and D’Onofrio replied shortly in the same language. The ladies knew better than to ask questions, and in any case Angela had just spotted something else that interested her, for two women had come out onto the terrace and were making their way to Mr. Sheridan’s table. The older woman was short, middle-aged and plump, with a cheerful expression and an evident addiction to quantities of rouge, while the younger one, a girl of eighteen or so, was taller and strongly-built, with a dark and unsmiling aspect. Both of them were dressed in far too many layers of clothing for the warm weather. Angela watched as the older one approached Mr. Sheridan and engaged him in conversation, while the girl hung back. They were too far away to be audible, but Sheridan appeared delighted to see them both and indicated the empty chairs next to him. The older woman shook her head and by her gestures seemed to say that they were in a hurry. Mr. Sheridan said something to the young girl and she replied but did not smile, although the other woman gave a cheery laugh. After a minute or two they saluted each other and the women moved away. They were about to descend the terrace steps into the garden when the older one spotted the little group at Angela and Elsa’s table, and made towards it, the girl tagging behind.
    ‘Hallo, hallo!’ the woman said brightly. ‘Isn’t it a fine day?’
    ‘Indeed it is, Mrs. Quinn,’ said Mr. Morandi. ‘And good afternoon to you, Miss Quinn. I hope you are both well.’
    ‘Oh, pretty fair, thank you,’ said Mrs. Quinn. ‘Just a touch of the arthritis in my left knee as usual, but the weather’s warming up now and that usually helps. I always say there’s nothing better than the Italian climate to do wonders for one’s health.’
    ‘I quite agree,’ said Elsa Peters with a smile. ‘Hallo, Mrs. Quinn. We met yesterday, didn’t we?’
    ‘Indeed we did. Hallo, Mrs. Peters,’ said Mrs. Quinn. She glanced at Angela and held out her hand. ‘Adela Quinn,’ she said.
    ‘Angela Marchmont,’ said Angela, shaking the proffered hand.
    ‘Mrs. Quinn is a medium and clairvoyant,’ said Elsa. ‘I understand she is recommended by many people here.’
    ‘That’s kind of you to say so,’ said Mrs. Quinn. ‘One doesn’t like to boast, but I will say that my clients do tend to return more than once.’
    ‘Indeed?’ said Angela. ‘I’ve never consulted a