The House of Serenades by Lina Simoni

everyone reconvened in the living room, Antonio said he had leads, which he’d investigate at once, without waiting for morning. He told the astonished family members that Giuseppe himself had provided him with such leads during their meeting earlier that day, but it was safer for everyone if he didn’t share that information for the moment in order to avoid endangering the family further and making false accusations. He asked that the cat not be removed from the knocker and the door and the foyer not be washed until his men arrived and performed their routine work in accordance with police procedures. He repeated that thanks to Miss Berilli’s arrival at eight-fifteen, it’d be relatively easy to check the suspects’ alibis for that night, as the time of the crime could be narrowed down to a ten-minute window. Then he suggested that everyone retire. Doctor Sciaccaluga seconded.
    “I administered Giuseppe digitalis and other appropriate medications to protect his heart,” the doctor said. “He should rest as long and peacefully as possible.” Then he offered the women sedatives and promised he’d come back in the morning to check on everyone’s condition.
    “Costanza and I will sleep at the palazzina ,” Umberto said, “to keep mother company. He turned to Eugenia and Doctor Sciaccaluga. “I’ll be happy to drive you both home. Unless you wish to sleep here, Aunt Eugenia.”
    “I don’t think so,” Matilda replied before Eugenia could open her mouth. “I’m sure Eugenia wishes to sleep comfortably in her bed tonight.”
    Umberto rose from the sofa. “Very well, then. Let’s go.” He stopped in his tracks. “Where’s Raimondo?”
    “He left half an hour ago,” Matilda said.
    Umberto shook his head. He asked, “Why does he always act like he’s not part of this family?” No one replied.
    Suddenly, Costanza, who had remained at Giuseppe’s bedside, called from the top of the staircase. “Mister Sobrero!”
    Everyone turned around.
    “Mister Berilli wishes to see you now.”
    Doctor Sciaccaluga shook his head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
    “Mister Berilli deems it very important that he speaks to the Chief of Police tonight,” Costanza said in a soft but unusually determined voice.
    Recalling the afternoon conversation and the lawyer’s reticence to talk about Ivano Bo, Antonio turned to Doctor Sciaccaluga. “It may be crucial that I see Mister Berilli now,” he said. “I’ll keep the conversation to a minimum, I promise.”
    “All right then,” Damiano agreed. “I trust your good judgment, Antonio. Remember. Mister Berilli must rest.”
    “Understood,” Antonio said, taking the staircase. On the second step, he let out a moan. He was starting to dislike this family. First, that odd call in the middle of the day, while he was tending to important matters at the police headquarters; then a second call when he was about to finish dinner and move on to his smoking room to try a new pipe. And if the untimely calls weren’t enough, he had a feeling that what he had heard so far might not be the whole truth.
    Upstairs, he stopped past the bedroom door. “Mister Berilli? You wanted to see me, I understand.”
    “Oh, yes, Antonio,” Giuseppe whispered. “Come closer.”
    Antonio tiptoed in the somberness of the large room, the sound of his steps deadened by the thick Oriental rug that hid most of the hardwood floor. Only a small lamp was lit, shedding dim light in a far corner. Yet, when he arrived at the canopy bed he saw that the lawyer was pale like the moon at dawn.
    Giuseppe spoke faintly. “Will you put another pillow under my head? I can’t talk well lying down like this. Help me lift my chest a bit. Yes, like this. Thank you, Antonio. Thank you.”
    “How are you feeling, Mister Berilli? That cat must have been a very unpleasant sight.”
    “It was horrible, Antonio. A vision from hell.”
    “Doctor Sciaccaluga wants you to rest,” Antonio said. “I’ll stay