The girl with the tune

Bellinzona, 1959, March 3rd.

Susie's two grandfathers and I went to a huge casino on the top of a mountain in the outskirts of Bellinzona. Bundy had said that he owed a lot of money to a person - money he had lost at Nozari Casino. His debt amounted to 6,000 francs - the amount that had been stolen at the time of the girl's murder. But would the thief and the murderer be the same person? I needed to find this out for Piers if I wanted to keep my reputation. Bundy had read the Gazzetta story in its entirety to us. Nothing more than we already knew. In my view Piers was the only one who was interested in discovering the truth. Bundy did'nt seem to give a damn. But I didn't doubt that Bundy was anxious to know what Piers would do to the murderer when he laid his hand on him. Honestly, I didn't care if Piers wanted revenge or not.

It was 9:00 pm when we got off the cable car and drove to the entrance. The Nozari Casino had this name because of Alberto Nozari - a Swiss philanthropist who had made his fortune by seducing wealthy women. The place was big as a castle. It was equipped with a heating system that made it cozy despite the cold outside. All three of us wore tuxedos; our faces were as smooth as a girl's, and our hairs were well combed. As we entered the place and walked toward the main hall, the boom increased in volume. It was jazz. A group of black gentlemen was playing on a stage. The drums were played roughly as the people scattered in the hall like ants in a jar of honey. The women were all dressed elegantly - clothes of the most varied types and colors.

- What's the name of the lady we're looking for? - I asked Bundy.

- Ask for Signorina Benziger. She make presentations on the stage... But she's very accessible. She loves money, more than anything else. She always comes here. You'll find her.

- OK.

- OK? Good luck. - Bundy started to walk away.

- Whoa! - Said Piers, holding him by the arm. - Where you think you're going?

- To have a drink.

- Not really, mate. We need you to stay with us.

- What?

- He's right, Mr. Bundy - I said. - We need you to identify the suspict. Besides... me and Mr. Condry don't speak Italian very well. So stay close.

- If you want me to identify the suspict, just look at the stage - said Bundy disgruntled.

I obeyed. The lights of the whole room were dimmed and the stage was illuminated only by a spotlight. This one was centered on a sinful-looking woman. She started singing a jazz in Italian and was accompanied by the band right behind. At that moment my heart raced. There was no question. It was her. It was Bernie. Bernie Engelmann. She was very different since the last time I had seen her. Her hair was red and pinned back in a half-sloppy but sensual coke. And a wick fell over her right eye. Even the color of her eyes had changed. They were now reddish brown. She wore a white shirt with its sleeves rolled up almost to her elbows, and wide, short trousers with suspenders and high heels. A gold chain was attached on the shirt and her waist suggested that she carried a watch in her pocket. Bernie's presentation was considered important enough that many people would leave their game tables and come to the casino's grandest hall.

- On second thought - I said, without looking away from Bernie - you can have a drink. I have everything under control.

- What? - Piers said in amazement as Bundy lit a cigarette.

- I have some unfinished business with that woman too. - I put ten francs in the pocket of Piers' coat and patted his shoulder. - Relax. Go get yourself a drink.

As Bundy turned his back and walked away with his hands in the pockets, Piers accompanied him in confusion. As they approached the bar, Piers turned his face to me every five seconds.

Bernie was a thief. A thief she was born and a thief she would die, and she usually had no trouble getting what she wanted. But killing a child is not something she would do without an extremely strong motive. She and Susie knew each other. But was that a good reason to kill her?

When Bernie finished her number the crowd applauded her. But nothing more. She came down the stage from its side and locked herself in the adjoining bathroom. She came out with another look - loose hair and a gray-yellow leather jacket with a black skirt and pantyhose. The shoes were the same. She walked for a few minutes through the hall until she decided to head outside. She leaned over the concrete rail. The view overlooked a beautiful mountainous landscape and a small forest a few meters below. The weather was not freezing. But it would soon be. That gave us little time to enjoy the cool atmosphere of the evening. She put a cigarette in her mouth and tried to light it with a lighter that was failing. A slight noise must have warned her of my presence. Indeed, I watched her with her back to me. But she didn't move. She finally managed to light her cigarette and sighed shortly afterwards - releasing a huge amount of smoke that rose and spread in the air. That was more striking to me than the Big Smoke.

- I can smell you from miles away - she said. Then she turned, holding the smoking cigarette close to her face. - You smell good.

I pulled a cigarette from my pocket and lit it.

- I'm curious to know what you want from me - she continued.

- Can't you guess? I said. I blew my smoke in her direction.

She laughed.

- I'm not a clairvoyant, Clint.

- Desmond Bundy.

- What about him?

- You took 6,000 francs from his safe.

- Yes.

- Susie Condry was killed the same day. In the same place.

- Susie Condry was killed. It's all that counts.

- What do you know about that?

She shrugged. She swallowed her cigarette slowly.

- Nothing. - She let out a smoke as she spoke. - Just what I read in the Gazzetta.

I wondered if it would be worth questioning; she didn't seem to be lying. Yet I would hardly have another chance to question Bernie before she disappeared altogether.

- If you didn't kill Susie... who you think might have killed her?

She looked down and stood like that for a moment. She disn't seem to have heard the question. Then she smiled wistfully.

- That devil - he said. - Always one step ahead of the world.

- What do you mean by that? You know who killed the girl?

- It's getting cold here in this casino. Let's continue this conversation in a cozier place.

- Are you going to force me to it to reveal to me what you carry on your conscience?

- I'm a selfish tramp, Clint. Never forget that.

We descended from the mountain and took the locomotive to the suburb. I greeted the Unione receptionist. I said that my wife had just arrived from London and I wanted to rent a double suite.

We took the elevator and entered room 813. This was twice as large as the 512 - the room I was sharing with Piers. It was entirely carpeted and consisted only of a large living room and a small bathroom. Near the balcony was a hexagon-shaped table with two chairs under a ceiling lamp and a small refrigerator with two glasses on top. On our left was the wardrobe and a tall, narrow round table that served as support for a vase with some orchids. On our right - at the back of the room - a fireplace and a king size bed with a hand-carved headboard were facing each other. I went there. There was a bedside table and a rug on each side of the bed. I took off my cloak and hat and threw them over it. I also undid the tie. The first thing Bernie did was open the curtain of the balcony so that the moonlight entered and cleared the whole room. Then she took off her cloak and beret and spread them out in a corner of the floor by the glass doors of the balcony.

- Uuh! Look! - She took a bottle of champagne out of an ice bucket on the coffee table. - Courtesy of the house!

I went to her. She held out the bottle.

- Here. Only you know how to open one of these.

I stared at her. She was teasing me. She wanted to see me in anger. I took the bottle from her hand and began to remove the seal to open it. Bernie was walking behind me.

- You know... - she said. - I've always been envious of Susie. She gets more attention from you with that angel face than I do with my whole body.

I felt a heat through my body and heard my own breathing. Why was I letting her tease you? And why was she doing it?

- I mean, I didn't expect to be traded for another woman - she continued. - Not for a garden dwarf in plastic pants.

She took off her leather jacket and tossed it on the chair. Then she went into the bathroom and leaned against the door. I heard her turn on the bath tap.

- But that's okay - she shouted from the bathroom. - Now that the girl has died, I think we can be together, right?

My hands were shaking and I couldn't get the cork out of the bottle. Then I held it by the bottleneck and squashed it on the edge of the table with the same sound and intensity as a .44. I turned the amount of champagne left in the bottle into a goblet and went into the bathroom. She was naked in the tub. He had water up to her neck. Her hair was damp from steam and trapped in a bun. She blinked her eyes repeatedly with a romantic expression.

- Will you give me the champagne? - said.

I brought the cup to my lips and drank it all at once. I put it in the sink. I approached the tub and stood beside Bernie. I was quiet. She looked at me with a frown.

- Too bad she died so fast, the little wench...

I pushed her head down. She slipped on her back and sank completely. She struggled and clutched the water awkwardly with her hands and feet. I raised my arm and pulled her back. She was panting.

- I suppose you saw how Susie died? - I said quietly.

- Clear as day - she said, holding my arm in her hands.

- And then?

- I think it was very fast. But you'd have been proud of her. She remained calm until the end. Ah, ah! Little dog.

I lowered her head again. She held my arm tighter. I waited a few seconds as she struggled with more and more violence. I pulled her again and I heard her take a huge breath. I dragged her out of the tub. She coughed. I felt her wet hair between my fingers and her hands on my wrist. She turned with her back to the floor as I dragged her into the carpeted room and soon got to her feet. She jerked my arm back. I lost my balance and I fell backwards, then releasing her hair. She prepared to run, but I grabbed and pulled her ankle causing her to topple over. I started to pull her with just one hand while trying to get up. Suddenly she turned and stuck my hand into a piece of the bottle I had broken. That made me let go. She started to run, but I was quick to lift myself up. I pulled her hair and hugged her from behind. Then she banged her head on my forehead before turning to me and trying to kick me on the stomach. I held her leg. But she gave me a push and I fell on my back. She fell on top with her hands on my neck.

- You bastard! - she growled.

She was angry, but she wasn't very strong. Even so, I was suffocating. I slapped her face. It didn't help much. I tried to get up and she got off balance and fell to the side. We rolled across the floor to the round table, knocking over the vase with the orchids. I ended up on top of Bernie, holding her arms to the ground; my clothes were wet because of her body. She gasped exhausted with her arms on the carpet. I stood there - my hand bleeding - not knowing what to do. I was trying to slow my heart rate.

- What now, Clint? - She whispered breathlessly.

I took a deep breath and stood up.

I went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of a drink and a glass. I served a minimal amount and drank in a sip. That erased the last 10 minutes of my consciousness. I went towards the bed while Bernie sat on the floor. I put on my hat. I took my coat and held it in my hands.

- Clint? Where are you going?

I went to the door and opened it.

- Wait! - said Bernie.

I stopped. I stood without looking back.

- Don' go. I'll tell you everything I know. I tell you now. Just... don't go.

I closed the door slowly. She went to the table and took the bottle I had opened. She poured the drink into two glasses. She pulled the chair to the right.

- Please - she said. She was looking at me with a frown and a sincere look. - Sit down.

Then she pulled the chair to the left and sat cross-legged. I sat down too. She was still soaked and her hair still dripped. It was thrown back and this made her forehead wide. I looked into her eyes and didn't bother to suggest that she wipe herself and dress. It was okay with me if she got pneumonia.

- Let me see your hand - she said.

- Spit it out.

- Okay... You certainly read the Gazzetta edition the first day.

- They read it to me. I don't speak Italian.

- Then you know that a little music box was found near the girl's body.

- Music box? - I said. - What music box?

She looked at her cloak - the one on the floor beside her seat - and took it. She took from it a small box of 5 cubic centime wood with a lid and a metal crank attached. She set the box on the table. I looked at Bernie. She gave me the same afflicted look. And I no longer knew if she was serious or making a sucker out of me.

- Open it - she said.

I lifted the lid and it opened like the cover of a piano. Inside was an impression of a Renaissance painting of a woman washing clothes. I pulled my hat on the back of my head. It was an image of the sixteenth century whose name and author I didn't know. But Bernie certainly knew. In the center of the box was a copper sculpture glued to a circular plastic base and painted brown in slovenly fashion. It was an angel of the graveyard - with a dark gaze - sitting with his left thigh on his right ankle and holding a cloth that covered his sex. The carton cylinder was naturally positioned horizontally in front of the circular base.

- Turn the crank - Bernie said.

I started to spin. With that the cylinder also turned. One of Bach's symphonies began. I can't remember the name of the symphony.

- And now?

- Keep turning until you make a full turn.

I obeyed. When the cylinder turned full, the crank caught and a half-inch-wide pin jumped from the plastic base and was now in relief. There was a small hole in the center of it.

I looked back at Bernie. She looked at me proudly with her chin in her hands. She couldn't hide a smile at the corner of her mouth.

- You're saying that such a small mechanism would be able to...

- You're the one saying, Clint.

- But the bullet went through Susie's skull. It crossed the ceiling.

- Do not be fooled by this toy. It's a small but extremely powerful weapon. I haven't seen one of these for years. The bullet is sharp and extremely fast, reaching more than 400 miles per hour.

- Was this was beside Susie's body? This information is not in the newspaper.

- Yes, it is.

- It's not.

- Yes, it is. Ask some local citizen. Someone other than the police. Someone who's not involved in the case.

Lazily she put her hand back in the cloak pocket on the floor. She scratched a match on the back of her incisors in an elegant gesture and drew a cigarette from the flame. He took a good swallow and blew the smoke out. He pushed the cigarette from her mouth and rubbed her forehead with her pinky.

- It would've been easier for everyone if you'd left the box in it's place - I said.

- I left. - She looked away thoughtfully. - This is another. But I should have taken that one as a gift. Now I'd have a small souvenir. Life's made of souvenirs, Clint.

- What the hell.

She laughed.

- I love you, Clint.

- I don't care.

- Why are you getting up?

- I'll leave.

- What?

- Goodbye.

- Are you serious? Where are you going?

- It's none of your business.

- Not! But...

I put on the cape and straightened my hat. I heard Bernie getting up. I opened the door and closed it as soon as I left. All I heard after that was Bernie's squeaky cry:

- You bastard!

The next day I had lunch with Piers in Lugano. When he asked me about the case, I bit around the bush as hard as I could. As he insisted I told a summary of what had happened last night and said we needed to talk to one more person. I asked him to take the newspaper from the first day.

In the house next to Bundy's lived an old native. Something Rodelli. He was about twenty years older than me. He was very hairless. He had white hair and blue eyes. And a wrinkled face. He wore a cane and slippers. Also a wool coat and a bow tie. I identified myself as a detective, and I said I'd like to ask him a question or two about Susie Condry's case. I also said that her paternal grandfather was with me. He was slightly interested and invited us in. The house was identical in structure to Bundy's, and the interior was no different either. However, Rodelli's living room looked far inferior because it was packed with furniture - all of them almost as old as their owner. They were a chest of drawers and a wooden, carved by hand desk on the left and a table with four seats in the center. There was a chair or a stool in each of the four corners of the room and paper on every wall. The house had a diverse decor. This included cheap replicas of Van Gogh paintings and picture frames. There were small plaster sculptures on the furniture and an old Christmas pine without decoration near the fireplace.

After a cup of tea and a friendly and dull conversation about the golden years I took the initiative to question the old man about the incident of the 28th.

- Yes, I knew little Susie - he said. - How old was she? Four, five?

- Six - said Piers.

- Yeah. - Rodelli slowly reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a pipe and a paper bag. - I used to see her once in a while. She was a lovely girl, but... abnormal. - He put the sack on the table beside the empty cup and untied the cord that wrapped around the edge of the bag. He began to puff of dust into the pipe.

- What do you mean, abnormal? - Said Piers impatiently.

- She was very thin and... quiet... As if she was... As if... if she was hiding something. One day she came here at half past seven in the morning. She rang the bell and I answered. She said, "Good morning, sir. You must be Mr. Rodelli. I'm Susie. Susie Condry. I'm Mr. Bundy's granddaughter. Mr. Bundy asks half a dozen eggs, please?

Rodelli told us that he felt sorry for her. It was cold, and the little girl trembled in a woolen cardigan.

- Oh, of course, my dear - he said to the girl. - But please, come in!

- I do not think that's a good idea - she said. - Mr. Bundy is waiting for me.

She was so fragile... so polite... And her dark circles became even more evident when she opened her eyes wide and tried to force a smile.

Besides - the girl went on - I don't want to bother you.

- Nonsense! Lets go in! Fast, fast! It's cold outside! You'll freeze your butt.

Then the girl laughed. She laughed naturally; it was not just for politeness. She laughed as if it was the first time after many years. I could see Susie clearly during Rodelli's narrative. She went through the door and went to him. Rodelli poured her tea. And gave her a few cookies too. Susie stared at it intently; until tears flowed from her eyes.

- I hope you like... Hey! What is it, my dear?

Rodelli bent down beside the girl. Susie rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands with a red face and a huge pout.

- Nothing, it's just... I haven't had tea in a long time. And not even biscuits...

- Your grandfather doesn't like cookies?

- I don't know.

- Where are your parents, my love?

- My mother went to heaven, and my father is in London.

- London?

Susie nodded.

- He's in Wimbledon.

Rodelli changed the look on his face.

- Wimbledon? But... But why did he...

- Mr. Rodelli? - Susie said in a non-childish way. - I really need to go, now.

Rodelli was confused. He had even forgotten the eggs. He didn't know what to do. Then he opened the door and let the girl out. He saw her a few more times, but she only greeted him from afar. He occasionally listened to the piano. It was almost always Mozart. Requiem. Whenever a song was not played very correctly he assumed that it was the young girl. But sometimes it was Bundy who played. He used to accelerate the symphony and wasn't fooled into a single note. He usually played at night and Susie at noon. A prodigy of a girl. In Rodelli's opinion, no one would be right to kill such a sweet girl.

- What do you think happened? - I said. I held my pad and pencil, but didn't write anything.

Rodelli swallowed his pipe with a vacant look. Didn't answer. He took a deep breath and let out a puff.

- What, Rodelli? - Said Piers. - Who do you think killed my granddaughter? Who is the villain? Is it Bundy?

Rodelli looked down and frowned as if he held a dark and terrible secret.

He finally looked Piers in the eye. It was an idea of ​​patience and wisdom. But what he said then took out all the security that remained in Piers.

- My dear signor, the villain is not Bundy. It's Susie.

Piers opened his eyes wider. These dampened and became slightly reddish.

- What you mean? - he murmured.

Rodelli closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

- I'm not a police detective like you gentlemen, but... under the circumstances... considering Bundy was not home when it happened... -  he took another drag - I can't come to any conclusions, except... - He swallowed the smoke from his pipe a third time and let out a thick, smelly white cloud - suicide.

Piers stood abruptly. He was staring hard at Rodelli, his breathing growing strained.

- You'll take that off, old man - he said, his lips trembling.

- Mr. Condry, sit down - I said. But I think he din't hear.

- You're saying a six-year-old baby put the barrel of a gun in her mouth and pull the trigger? - Cried Piers, his face red. - Is that it, Rodelli? Huh? Bastard.

- It was in the nose - I corrected.

Rodelli was a little puzzled, but he didn't seem to be afraid of Piers.

- She was obviously unhappy - he continued. - An orphan. I'd have blown my brains out if I was her, a long time ago.

- Do you want me to blow your brains out, Rodelli?

He shook his trembling hand inside his jacket. I got up and gripped his wrist tightly.

- Mr. Condry - I said softly. - You must calm down. Do not screw it up.

- Take your hands off me, Harper.

- I didn't mean to upset you - Rodelli said. - Is there anything I can do?

- Why on earth did you call the girl a suicidal, Rodelli? Hmm? Why did you accuse Susie? Are you trying to get away?! Huh?! Where were you that night?! Huh?! What were you doing?! Huh?!

He was getting more agitated. I took his hand out of the jacket and the revolver went out; he held it by the butt. I ripped it out of his hand and slapped him on the cheek. He grunted. I grabbed him by the arms and shook him.

- Contain yourself!

He finally disengaged himself from my hands. He sat down again, just as abruptly as he had lifted. He was breathing heavily. He looked at the floor. He lit a cigarette.

- Are you going to tell us what you did when Susie died, old man? Hmm? - Piers gasped.

Rodelli looked at his pipe.

- I don't have to eliminate any fact. Yes, I was at Susie's house the night of the 28th.

- What? What did you say, Rodelli?

- Mr. Condry - I said. - Mr. Rodelli is being very patient with us. If you don't mind...

- Shut up, Harper! Let the old man speak.

Rodelli looked at Piers as if he had cursed his mother. Then he looked back at the pipe in his hand as if examining it.

- I heard a peculiar noise. I'd never heard such a thing before. It didn't sound like a gunshot. I think... I think it was the sound of the bullet penetrating the ceiling. At first I didn't react, but then I heard the front door of Bundy's house being abruptly opened and someone came out. I could hear footsteps in the snow. Then I took my cane, my cap and went there. The footprints on the lawn were not too big to be feminine. Not too small to be from a man. Soon they would disappear; It was snowing, you see. I tried to call for Bundy, but I got no answer. I called for Susie, but the result was the same. So I took off my shoes and went into the house. I saw the dead little girl upstairs. Her dress was torn. There was blood on her face, now deformed. And in the hair. And... on the ceiling. There was a bullet hole in it, but... There was no gun near her. Except... to such a box, of course. I didn' touch anything. I just stooped to close the child's eyes. The bullet didn't penetrate the nose, but a little below, between the top lip and the nose. But the top lip had been torn by the projectile. Her teeth were exposed, like the ones of a rotting corpse. I haven't been staring at her for a long time, but that's a scene I'll carry in my mind forever.

He pressed his lips to his pipe once more until Piers raised his voice again.

- What box is that? This is not in the Gazzetta.

I looked at the old man. He quietly blew a huge amount of smoke all at once. He didn't answer.

- Harper? - Piers said nervously.

I reached into the inner pocket of my coat and took out the number of the Gazzetta, from the first day of March.

- Mr. Rodelli - I said. I opened the newspaper on the front page. The one with the photo of the girl whose face occupied almost the entire picture. Her cheeks were soft, but her dark circles gave her a skeletal look. Her straight, almost white hair was drawn behind her broad ears. Her eyes were empty and her pupils frighteningly clear. And almost invisible eyebrows. She didn't look at the camera. She was looking up. Probably to the photographer. - Would it be too tedious for you to translate the text for us?

I handed it to Rodelli, who gladly accepted it and began translating the headline. However Piers said it was a waste of time because Bundy had already translated the entire article. So I told him that the investigation would be done my way. He accepted, annoyed.

Rodelli began translating the text. He read everything in English without much difficulty. Just as Bundy had done.

When I thought he had finished I pulled the air to start talking. But before I did, he continued:

"The detectives found no weapon in the house, and there was nothing near the victim that could be used as a weapon, or anything that indicated suicide. There was, however, a music box near the girl's left hand. Such an old object belonged to Susie's grandfather, Mr. Desmond Bundy, and is not of enormous importance to the case."

London, 1956, January 4th.

The day after my visit to the Condries, I remembered that Serina had stated that she would go shopping at Tesco at 6:00 p.m. I thought it would be a perfect opportunity to visit the residence and do a more thorough investigation.

Bernie had pulled the bed from the wall and was sleeping in it now. She snorted intensely. She was adorable in a white T-shirt. I took the key of her Fiat 500 from the desk.

I left Tottenham and drove to Walthamstow.

I parked the car in front of the house. It was exactly 6:30. The nearest Tesco was far away. So I assumed that Serina Condry would still be at the market. I rang the bell. Anna opened the door.

She wore a red polka-dot dress and her hair was bound with a handkerchief.

- Mr. Wood?

- Hello - I said. - How are you?

- Well... - She looked slightly surprised to see me. - I'm cleaning the kitchen. What do you want?

- Is your father or mother at home? I'd like to talk with them about an important subject - I said, feeling a chill breeze hit my face. I forced an exaggerated expression of discomfort.

- Well, my father is working... And my mother went shopping. It must take them almost an hour to get back.

- I see... That's a pity... Well, I guess I'd better come back another day.

- Come in for a moment. You can wait here if you want. Maybe my mom won't be long.

- OK, then. I think I'll wait for her.

I took off my hat and went inside. The windows were all closed and the whole house was dark. Anna invited me to sit on the armchair in the living room. It was a purple velvet-clad armchair and had a high back.

- I'll get you a drink. - She climbed up quietly to the second floor. Maybe it was in Draven's room that he kept the bourbon.

I looked around. I was almost sure about what was happening in that house. But I still had no proof. There was only one way to prove my theory - espionage. Obviously if I gave the slightest sign that I was a detective, everything would go wrong. I looked at the watch on my wrist. I got up and started pacing the room watching the decor. It was all quite expensive. There were some picture frames on the fireplace. Some pictures portrayed Anna and others, Susie. The other, they both together. Some were of Serina. But Draven didn't appear in any.

That's when I heard footsteps a few feet behind me. They were light footsteps of someone running. I turned to see. Susie jumped up and dropped to her feet with her hands at the height of her head in a predator pose.

- I found you, Anna!

Then she lowered her arms and looked around.

No, I didn't find you... - she murmured. - Where is she?

- Hi, Susie - I said. I walked over to her and leaned down until I squatted. - What are you doing?

She looked at me with innocent and funny seriousness.

- I'm scaring Anna - she whispered.

- You're scaring Anna?

- Yes. If she asks, you didn't see me, okay?

- Okay...

- Come on! She took my hand. - Let's go to the bathroom!

At that moment we heard footsteps on the stairs. Susie ran to the back of the house and stood up. Anna appeared with a half-pint of whiskey.

- Here you go, Mr. Wood.

- Thank you.

- Sit down.

I obeyed and sat down in the armchair. She sat down on the sofa beside it.

- Do you like working with people, Mr. Wood?

- Yes, that's why I chose my profession.

- Psychiatrist?

- Psychologist.

- Ah, yes. What's the difference?

- A psychiatrist heals your body. A psychologist heals your soul.

- And how do you do that?

- We talk to you.

- About what?

- About what you want.

- It must be difficult to disinhibit people at first.

I was slightly astonished at the girl's ease of communication.

- Not much. We just need to ask the right questions. I'm sure your father has already shown you how we work.

- Daddy is a rude and unpleasant man.

She had said it with hurt in her voice.

- Why do you say that?

- He yells at me and Susie. And at Mom. He is not a good psychologist.

- Would it be better if he didn't exist?

I regretted asking the question when she looked at me with a certain astonishment. I tried to change the subject.

- Would you like to be a psychologist when you grow up?

- I don't think I'm going to live that long.

- You think you'll die young?

- I 'm afraid so.

- Why? - I approached the drink from my lips and simulated a sip.

- I don't know. - She looked down. - I can't imagine being an adult.

- That's curious - I said.

- Curious? - She looked up at me. The brightness of the room was dim, but I could see the girl's intuitive eyes (now prettier than the day before). She had firm lips. They were lips of an introverted... but safe girl.

- You like to go to school?

- Not so much... My grades have fallen recently.

- Because?

- It's hard for me to pay attention. But I wouldn't change anything in the education system. I believe... school is useless in my case.

- Hmmm. Continue.

- I feel like I'm wasting precious time. I'd like to spend it somewhere else, like in a park. Mom said Hyde Park is a wonderful place.

- She said that?

- Yes. Have you been there?

- Yeah. It's a place like any other to me.

- Mr. Wood. Do you... really love Miss. Wolfgang?

I hesitated.

- Why do you ask?

- Do you? - She had almost no expression on her face. It was difficult to know what she was thinking of.

- She would know if I didn't love her - I said, and looked down at the fireplace.

- Why? - I didn't look at Anna, but I knew she was still staring at me insistently.

- Because... women have a natural sense. They know when a man likes them. - I looked at her again. She opened her eyes in an interesting and inviting way; remained serious. - So - I looked down and propped my elbows on my knees - you were talking about Hyde Park...

- Mr. Wood.

- Yes?

- Do you think I'm a pretty girl?

I turned to face her and blinked in puzzled. I didn't answer.

- Sorry. - She looked down at the floor and tried a shy smile. - Too young to ask.

I stared at her. It was the first time I'd seen her sketching something close to a smile.

- I've never kissed a boy - she said. It had the tone of voice of a six-year-old girl; she was speaking quickly but thinking very carefully before answering.

- You'll have your chance - I said.

She drew in the air as if to sigh.

- There was a kid at my school last year. He was ran over in the beginning of the second semester, and broke his arm. He was always alone, but I never had the heart to ask him. There's a good chance I won't be sixteen, Mr. Wood. And even if I be, I won't kiss a boy until then.

I looked at her confidently.

- You'll be sixteen, okay? And you're going to kiss a boy.

Then she smiled beautifully at the corner of her mouth. That smile was the same as her sister's. It made me smile too.

- There - I said. - A smile.

I looked down. I could see that Bernie's suspicions were justifiable in analyzing Anna's behavior more closely.

- Give me a kiss?

I turned to her in amazement. She looked innocently at me. I don't know if I showed any discomfort but I must have hesitated.

- No.

- Or else I'll never know what it's like.

I was embarrassed. I alternated my gaze from her to the glass in my hands.

- I'm so sorry. I can't.

- I won't tell anyone.

- You, you, you're fourteen - I stammered. - I'm forty-six.

She looked down again.

- I'd like to know what it's like... Once.

I stared at her.

- Anna, this is not your last chance for this.

- What if it is?

Anna hated her father. She had a low school performance. She acted in a curious way. It appeared that she had been the victim of an abominable crime. But none of this came to my mind at that time. I just thought about how sorry I was of her. She repeated the request.

- Please kiss me?

I hesitated.

I sighed and shook my head, upset.

I leaned close and touched my lips to hers. She didn't move. We stayed like this for a few seconds and then I walked away.

I gave the glass with whiskey for her. She picked it up and got up.

- It was good to talk to you, Anna.

She just stared at me from below in silence.

- I must go now.

I walked toward the door without looking back. I started the car and drove away.

Bellinzona, March 4, 1959.

There was no more time to lose. We left Rodelli's house at 3:45 p.m. and walked a few yards until we reached Bundy's house. We rang the bell three times, but we weren't attended.

I was euphoric and curious to discover the end of that story. It was all suicide. Either that or Bundy really was the killer. But there was absolutely no reason for it. Had he had a fit of rage and killed the girl in an irrational act? And if Susie had ended her own life, that would be the first thing Bundy would say in his defense. Unless he wanted to blame on Bernie over the loss in the casino. That would explain why he'd hidden the part of the news that mentioned the damn music box.

- Perfect. He's not home - I said, turning around the house with Piers behind me.

- What are you doing? - Said Piers, frightened.

- We need to get in.

We reached the bottoms, sinking the soles in the dense snow.

- But Bundy is not home! - He put his hand on my shoulder. He almost fell to the ground as he stumbled over a pile of firewood.

- Right. That's why.

Behind the house was a huge covered area - a huge cube of glass and metal resembling a greenhouse. The access door was locked.

- Mr. Condry. Please reach for me a piece of wood.

He obeyed. I prepared to break the glass door.

- Harper! If you do it, who will pay the loss?

- Discount from my fees.

I closed my eyes and hit the door with the log. But I had no result but a crack.

- It's tempered... - I murmured.

- Which means? - said Piers.

I hit the wood on the door again with all my strength causing a great noise and increasing the cracks.

- Christ... - Piers looked around.

I hit the glass a third time and opened a hole near the door handle. The noise was loud but brief. I don't think it caught anyone's eye. I reached inside the opening and pulled the lock. The door opened and I and Piers walked in.

It was hot in there. We were near the large pool on the stone floor. It was besieged by four synthetic fiber chairs. The Juniperus was on the other side - right in front of us. There was also a toy doll on the floor. It was near a brick rail which separated the pool area from an old fireplace that had been out of use for a long time. I picked up the doll and examined it.

- What is it? - said Piers.

I handed the doll to him. I circled the pool. Then I went to examine the fireplace. There was nothing there. I went to the sliding door - the glass door leading to the house. It was open. I entered. I walked quickly to the fireplace in the main room. It was full of ashes. I took the poker and took out what was left of a small piece of wood. It was already completely black and falling apart. I put the object on the floor. The lid no longer existed, but there were still traces of the angel. And the crank and the plastic pin.

I had no doubts. It was the music box.

London, 1956, January 4th.

I had a plan. But I had to get home before I could do it. It all depended on Bernie's Fiat. It was the only way I could get to Walthamstow easily. I arrived at my apartment and didn't find Bernie there. The bed was still unmade. I took what was left of my savings - about 100 pounds - and my .44. I checked the cylinder. It was fully loaded. I returned to the car. I started it and went back to Ruby Road.

It was getting dark when I arrived in front of the Condry house. I parked the Fiat across the street a safe distance away and turned off the engine. I stared at the house for a minute. I pulled my revolver and cocked it. I put it in my coat pocket. Then I heard a voice behind me.

- Are you sure you...

My heart skipped a beat. I turned quickly and drew my .44, pointing it at Bernie's face. She raised her hands smiling.

- Oops! - she said. - Calm down, baby. It's me.

I lowered the gun and sighed.

- You...! What the hell are you doing here?

- I am protecting my investment. - She jumped into the front seat. - So what is the plan? You won't be able to watch daddy Condry from here, of course.

- Of course - I said, still breathless. - But if you were more observant and less funny, you would realize there's an inn on the right of the house.

She opened the glove compartment and pulled out binoculars. She opened the window and saw it through it.

- Hmm, It's true. There's a window that is right in front of Anna's bedroom window. I think I understand your plan, Clint. But you don't have to spend your precious money on it. Our stay will be on me.

- Our stay...

- Yes. And I bet they have a very cozy room with a soft bed and a bigger bathtub than yours, where two people fit.

- Please... - I said bored.

- But if you prefer to spend all your savings at once, feel free. You sleep there alone and I take my car and drive away.

Bernie and I registered at the inn under the names of Clint and Mary Chandler. The daily price was high, but Bernie would pay the expenses.

- The room is not so small - Bernie said as we entered - and neither is the bed. It would fit five people in it.

I was tipping the boy who had shown us the way there.

- Here you are, sonny...

- Thank you, sir - he said. Then he went out and closed the door.

Bernie was already in the bathroom, checking the bathtub. I heard the echo of her voice.

- Take a look at this, strudel.

I went there.

- This bathtub must have a thousand liters. Shall we test it?

I went to the window overlooking the Condry house. The bed was next to it. It was a few inches from the wall. I opened the blind's blades. I could see the other side perfectly. With the binoculars it would be possible to know everything that would happen in Anna's room. At the moment there was a light on inside. It was from a lamp. Luckily her bed was near the window and positioned along the nearest wall. That was five meters from me.

I felt Bernie hugging me and resting her chin on my shoulder.

- The bathtub is almost full - she whispered. - Shall we play Titanic?

- I'm busy now, Bernie. Just use that bathroom at once, cause I also need to take a shower.

- My name's not Bernie. It's Mary. I'm your wife.

- Did you bring the binoculars?

- Yes, they're right there.

- Great...

- I think Anna will be late to appear. It's only 8pm. There is time to take a shower together, eat something, and then take another shower.

- I didn't come here for that. Hurry up.

- Jesus... Will you never lose control?!

- No.

- Whatever, then. I'm going to take a shower by myself. It appears you're going to be at this window all night long... I hope you get blind.

She went into the bathroom and slammed the door. I grabbed the binoculars and turned off the bedroom light to see better.

Bernie got out of the shower and got dressed. Then she went downstairs to have dinner. I kept trying to watch what was going on in Anna's room. She would show up only now and then, turn on the light, and do things like comb her hair and sand her nails. After a while she left and kept several minutes without returning. She certainly was in the kitchen having dinner or playing with Susie.

At this point I relaxed. I opened my jacket and loosened the tie. I adjusted the heater. I lit a cigarette. Suddenly I heard a vague car sound. It was Draven's car. He'd arrived. It sure it was him. Bernie arrived in the room yawning.

- Any news?

- Yeah. Look. - I handed her the binoculars. She passed me and leaned on the railing to watch. I lit my cigarette again.

- Yeah... Looks like daddy's home. Nothing special from my point of view.

- Now the real investigation begins. The next few minutes will be decisive.

- I understand what you want to prove. If you don't mind, Clint, I'll get ready to go to dreamland.

- Feel free. But don't turn on the bedroom light.

Draven entered the house and closed the door. The lights in the house were mostly off at the time. The glass of my window started to blur. But Anna still had her light on. She was reading some magazine.

Bernie came back from the bathroom. She put on a pink nightgown - quite unusual on her - and lay on the side of the bed under two thick, padded blankets. And by the sounds of her voice she was sleepy

- Good evening, strudel - she murmured.

She said something about bed bugs and butt, but I didn't pay attention. I was trying to figure out which magazine Anna was leafing through. After a while she dropped the magazine and turned off the lamp.

When my watch struck 4:00 Bernie called my name. Then she turned sideways and went back to sleep. The night was dense. Everyone slept.

At 6:00 some lights in the house came on, but not in the girl's room. Draven left to work at 7:00. His wife stayed in the kitchen. She lit a cigarette. Until then I didn't know she smoked. She lit two cigarettes. Anna was still sleeping. Maybe Susie too.

At 7:30 Bernie woke up. I heard her turning on the shower. I had achieved no result in my vigil. I'd have to try again the next night. Bernie came out of the bathroom and when she opened the door steam came with her to the bedroom. She was wrapped in a robe and her head was wrapped in the towel.

- Do you have a cigarette, Clint? - she said after searching her briefcase.

- Here - I said. I reached it over and she took the cigarette with her mouth. She turned her back, but then turned again to me.

- Hmm - she said without taking her cigarette out of her mouth. - Fire.

I threw my lighter to her and she lit her cigarette. I turned my attention to the neighboring building and checked with the binoculars if everything was the same. Nothing had changed. I rubbed my eyes and poured myself some of the whiskey on top of the fridge. I took off my shoes and shirt.

Bernie hugged me from behind. She stroked my face with a strand of her own hair - as she used to do years ago.

- What do you prefer now? - she murmured. - Tea, bath... or me?

I kept taking off my clothes.

- Bath - I said.

She squeezed me tighter.

- Oh, why don't you relax for a minute? - she said dragging her voice. - We can wash ourselves in the feline way...

I gently broke free from her arms. I went to the bathroom and closed the door. I heard Bernie's discouraged voice.

- Or not.

Bellinzona, 1959, March 4th.

Piers and I searched the entire house, but found nothing significant beyond what was in the fireplace: the partially destroyed music box and scorched bits of pink fabric. There were still bloodstains on the ceiling - just above where the girl had been shot.

The evidence was not very convincing but it confirmed what I had suspected since I met Bernie at Unione. There was only one person who would have reason to kill Susie and he had to confess the crime. It was the only way. I needed to press him the right way. Or the murder would go unpunished.

- Mr. Condry - I shouted. He came running from the second floor.

- What is it, Harper? He said nervously. - Did you find any more clues?

- I already know who the criminal is - I said calmly. I leaned against the fireplace and put my hands in my pockets.

Piers smiled in amazement.

- Really? And who is it, Harper? Say it at once!

- I will. But first I want everyone who's involved. Everyone has to be here. Preferably the police too.

- But the nearest police station is too far from here! It will take at least an hour before they arrive!

- No, I don't think so. It'll take 30 to 40 minutes.

- Okay, so make the phone calls. I'll go outside to wait until...

- No! - I said. - You will stay here.

He stopped and looked at me with a surprised face and a slight smile on his face. He stayed like that for a moment.

- Okay - he said tiredly. - As you wish. - He walked to the stairs and sat on a step.

I looked away from him and went to the phone desk next to the kitchen door. I opened the drawer. I pulled out a phone book.

The first person I tried to call was Bernie, but she wasn't in the suite. Then I asked the receptionist to give her a message if she returned within an hour: to go immediately to the following address. 12, Como Street, Cagliostro.

Then I called the station and asked to speak with Inspector Refosco. I asked him to come in a plain car - undercover - along with a few more men. He asked why and I said a home invasion had just happened.

- Yes - I said. - It's from Bundy's house. Desmond Bundy. Yes. Exactly. And don't park too close to the residence. Just proceed as I said. Right... Right. See you later.

The third call was to request Rodelli's presence. He would be there in a minute or two. So I hung up the phone.

Piers was still sitting on the stairs, smoking.

- Tell me what you're up to, Harper.

I opened my mouth to answer. But before I did, Bundy appeared at the back door in astonishment.

- But what... - He was outraged but kept his usual serenity and self-control. - What is the meaning of this?

- Forget it - I said, walking over to him. - I have good news. I already know who murdered your granddaughter.

He seemed not to hear. He was staring at the glass door I had broken.

- Mr. Bundy... I said I found out who murdered your granddaughter.

He turned to me angrily and shouted:

- Why, then talk at once!

- Not yet. I don't want to have to explain everything more than once. It is good that the police are present or at least one other person. This will decrease the number of times I will need to repeat. Please wait here until someone else arrives.

- Until someone else arrives? And why would anyone else come?

- Because I took the liberty of calling the other suspects. For them to hear my verdict.

- You did what?

Then we heard three knocks outside the glass door.

- Excuse me, I'm coming in.

It was Rodelli. He had appeared at the back door with his cane. He wore his velvet cap and a wool scarf.

- You called me, Mr. Harper. Here I am. Mr. Bundy. Mr. Condry.

Piers shook his head. He was apparently calm. But I was sure that inside he was anxious and optimistic about the outcome of the story.

Bundy was occasionally a gentleman. But he offered no seat to the old man. Instead he walked slowly to me. He was upset about the situation, but tried his best to remain calm.

- Your lack of class bothers me, Mr. Harper. If discovering the identity of the person who killed my granddaughter and stole 6,000 francs is so important to Mr. Condry, give the verdict. And then, please, I want you both out of my house.

I lit a cigarette. I blew out the smoke and pulled my hat back. I knew that by now none of the three men would leave until they heard my verdict.

- Okay - I said, looking at Bundy's shoes. They had recently been shined and shone beautifully. I scratched my forehead. - Everything is as planned. Except the second female character in my story is not present. Bernie hasn't arrived yet and honestly I don't know if she'll come.

- The second? - Said Rodelli. He seemed to enjoy the situation. - And who'd be the first?

I downed my cigarette and looked casually at him.

- Susie - I said.

- Ah! - He approved smiling and seemingly excited.

Bundy already had his eyes closed and his hands on his hips.

Piers was still smoking, swinging his leg faster and faster.

- For God, Harper... - he said, his eyes widening. - Say it at once! I have your fees right here! Just say it, man!

- How about going to the dining room? - I said throwing what was left of my cigarette into the fireplace and stuffing my hands in my pockets. - Mr. Bundy has an excellent port wine. There we can sit at the counter and everyone can digest the information better. Mr. Bundy? What do you think?

Bundy shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. He didn't seem to care about what would happen anymore. His mood was exhausted and a little alcohol didn't seem a bad idea. He served port wine for both men and for me. Then he poured himself a cup. Piers was so impatient that he drank the whole glass at once.

- Very well, Harper - he said. - Now...

- Mr. Condry - I said. - You were the only one who accompanied me on my investigation. You know all the suspects. Make your guess. Who killed Susie Condry?

Piers was excited. He smiled slightly and relaxed in his chair.

- Do you really want me to guess? - He raised an eyebrow.

I was quiet. I stared at his face and kept my seriousness.

- It's ok. - He shrugged. - Rodelli killed.

Rodelli looked at Piers in astonishment. Piers didn't bother to look back at him. Bundy was studying the situation. He was dumb.

- And how did he do that? - I said.

- Mr. Harper - said Rodelli. - Shouldn't your question be "why"?

I didn't answer. I stared at Piers.

- How? Well, shooting a gun, of course. The weapon must be hidden in his house. Or he must've gotten rid of it.

- And what would be the reason? - I said closing my eyes. My head was starting to hurt.

- Greed. - He stared at a dirt on his index fingernail.

- Greed? - said Rodelli, frowning. - I confess I didn't understand.

- Mr. Condry. Explain yourself - I said in a sigh.

- He waited for the perfect opportunity to steal Bundy's savings - Piers said. - When Bundy drove out of the house, he certainly left the door unlocked. So Rodelli came in and...

- I told you, I didn't leave the door unlocked - said Bundy.

- How could you remember? You were drunk.

- I dont know. But I remember. I locked the door. I'd never leave the house open. Definitely all the doors and windows were locked.

- So, Bundy, how do you explain the fact that there were no signs of force on the door from the intruder?

- I agree with Mr. Condry - said Rodelli. - I came here after hearing the shot, and I can confirm that the door was open.

- Okay - I said before Bundy opened his mouth to deny it. - Let's continue. Mr. Condry?

- Certainly - said Piers. - Well then... Rodelli came in to steal all the money from the safe. When he'd collected only 6,000 francs my granddaughter Susie appeared. Not to leave witnesses, Rodelli shot her head and...

- Enough! - Shouted Rodelli. - I don't believe this! I'd never hurt anyone, least of all a six-year-old orphan girl! Hell take me if I'm lying!

- Calm down - I said. I looked at Piers. - Is that all?

- Yes - he said.

- OK. - I took a sip of port wine. - Rodelli? Want to make your guess?

Rodelli looked at me hesitantly. But in the end he decided to say the word - which came out shaky and reluctant.

- Suicide.

Bundy allowed himself to laugh. He turned the rest of the wine in his mouth. Piers grinned and slowly rubbed his eyes. Then he yawned. Rodelli was serious and embarrassed.

- Why do you think it was suicide? - I asked drinking the rest of the wine.

- The girl wasn't happy.

- Where did she get the gun?

- I dont know.

- OK. Mr. Bundy?

Bundy looked at me patiently. His eyes were vague and comical.

- What?

- Your guess.

- I think I told you, Mr. Harper. - He turned his gaze serious and fixed it on my pupils. - I don't care who killed, I don't care why killed, I don't care how killed. Nothing will bring Susie back. Nothing! All I want now is peace. Quiet. I don't want revenge.

I lit a cigarette.

- See... This is not about revenge... The guy who murdered your granddaughter is on the loose and may well make other victims.

- Well, Mr. Harper... - He set his glass calmly on a small table by the armchair. He clapped his hands on his knees and stood up. - I can't help you anymore. I already gave you the name of Miss. Benziger. She is the one who should be in my place in this interrogation.

- She's been through this interrogation. - I swallowed a great deal of smoke again and felt it mingle with the port in my body. It made me feel very good. - And I admit I was very inelegant with her. I even hit her. I'm not proud. But now we'll come to a verdict on the three unknowns of the case using the elimination method.

"First, how did the little girl die? It couldn't have been by accident because there is obvious evidence that she was shot in the head by someone. That leaves suicide or murder. We can discard the first one."

- Why? - Said Rodelli interestedly. - Someone could've for some reason hidden the gun after the suicide.

- The reason it couldn't have been suicide... is that there were signs of fighting - I said, staring at him.

- As well? - Said Piers, uncrossing his legs. - What signs?

- You certainly remember the girl's dress was torn. - The three men were looking at me. Evidently they were looking for a loophole in my reasoning. - And it wasn't just any rip. It was big. Wasn't it, Mr. Bundy?

- It was - Bundy said. - Indeed.

- OK. So it's certain that she was murdered. But how was that? In my possession is some evidence I found in this house a few minutes ago. In the living room fireplace.

- What you mean? What evidence?

- The first is a set of red-stained rags. They're partially burned. But it's not difficult to see that it's a feminine underwear. I dare say it was Susie's. If I'm correct she was raped. That gives us a reason.

No one dared to dispute this hypothesis. I continued.

- The second test is what's left of the music box.

- What music box? - said Bundy.

- The little music box that was next to Susie when the press arrived.

- Oh, yes. Of course.

- Didn't you remember? - I said smiling.

- Yeah, it's just... We use to call it scatola here - he said, looking down.

- Yes - said Rodelli. - Scatola musicale.

- Scatola... - I said, putting the rest of my cigarette into the empty glass. - And where did you get it?

- I bought it from a street vendor a long time ago - said Bundy.

- In London?

- Yes.

- Did you lend it to Susie?

- No. It must've been Benziger.

- How would she know the box is a fatal weapon?

- I have no idea.

- A weapon? - said Piers.

- Yes. When the song ends the box fires a projectile. It's small but it does a lot of damage. But we'll come back to this later. Now the last unknown. Who was able to take the child's life?

"We can start by excluding Mr. Condry. Of course he could have killed Susie to avenge any harm Mr. Bundy might have done to him. You two don't seem to get along very well."

- What?! - said Piers.

- But I don't think he sent someone in London to kill the girl and then hired a private investigator to solve the case - I said seriously. No one objected. Piers smiled discreetly.

- Buster... - he muttered, pouring himself some more wine.

- I confess I thought of Refosco too - I said. - Nobody here thought of him?

There was no answer.

- No one thought of him? - I insisted.

- What's his alibi?

- Exactly. He has no alibi. Would any of you want to defend him?

- I see no reason to consider him a suspect - Rodelli said.

- Then why did he close the case so carelessly? - Said Piers.

- I dont know. Laziness, maybe?

- Yes - I said. - We'll have to accept that.

- Right... There are three suspects left then? - Rodelli said.

- Three? - Said Bundy.

- Yes. Me, you and the young thief everyone talks about. Signorina Benziger?

- Actually - I said - she's Bernie Engelmann.

- The thief? - Said Piers. - The one from London?

- Yes.

- So... Is she to blame?

I took a deep breath.

- Yes and no.

- What the hell is that answer?

- Bernie is guilty of stealing the 6,000 francs. This matter Mr. Bundy will have to settle with her later. But I can assure you she's not the killer.

- She's not? - Piers said in astonishment.

- No.

- That means... that the person who raped and murdered my granddaughter ...

- Yeah. It's one of these two gentlemen here.

The two gentlemen looked at each other. Bundy's look was one of disappointment; Rodelli's, of astonishment.

- Gentlemen - I said. - Don't make any sudden movement. Try to be calm. Let me be clear. Bernie Engelmann is an anarchist, famous throughout England. Mr. Bundy. You must've heard of her for years. Every Londoner who reads the newspaper knows that she's a naughty and bold woman; a thief mocking justice. Regardless of the authorities' efforts she always gets what she wants. Mr. Condry. Am I speaking the truth?

- Indeed. It's an ingenious slut, that one.

- Thank you. Now... She confessed to stealing Mr. Bundy's 6,000 francs. But she said she didn't commit murder. And she would hardly lie. There is no reason to lie. That woman is not afraid of arrest. It has escaped dozens of prisons.

- Is that her alibi? - Said Bundy.

- Yeah. You can say that.

- Are you trying to tell me then that Rodelli came into my house, raped and killed my granddaughter, and then threw the evidence in the fireplace to incriminate me?

The old man leaped on Bundy in a fit of rage and knocked him off his chair. Bundy tried to wriggle free as the other one choked him with his hands on Bundy's neck. It took Piers and I to act at the same time to get one man off the other.

- Gentlemen. Keep your sanity until I give the final verdict - I said, helping Bundy to his feet as Piers grabbed Rodelli and set him on his feet. The two nervous gentlemen then returned to their seats. Rodelli was gasping with anger.

- You owe me an apology - said Bundy. He was grudging at Rodelli. This one didn't answer.

- Tell me who's to blame, Harper, so I can beat him to death - Piers said. He was anxious and moody. I wasn't sure if he was joking or not. And I didn't care.

- Yes, say it at once - said Rodelli. - He was dark. He felt his pockets on his pipe. - I want to go home and get out of this murderer's presence.

- Infanticide, my dear - said Bundy. - That's what you did.

- There is no evidence against me.

- Well, not against me either.

I confess that I was somewhat nervous when I made the following statement. But I took a deep breath and I think I covered it well.

- That's true - I said. - There is no evidence. But you will confess. Won't you... Bundy?

Everyone stared at me in astonishment. Then they looked at Bundy - surely imagining him raping and killing Susie.

- Confess what? - he said.

- What do you think?

- You can't think I killed my granddaughter!

- OK. No need to confess now. - I positioned myself comfortably in the chair; I took another cigarette and lit it; I let out the smoke and felt calmer. I uncrossed my legs and crossed them again. - Listen to my story first.

I can hardly wait - he said with a sigh.

- Well... Before Susie arrived you were already an addicted player. You frequented Nozari regularly. I dare say poker is your favorite game. About the same time Susie arrived, you began to intensify your addiction and became an alcoholic. I don't know when Bernie came here but I know she's very good at poker. You started losing to her and soon became a debtor. You owed her 6,000 francs, but had no intention of paying. His goal had always been to reverse the situation through poker.

"I don't doubt Susie was worried about you. She always thought of others first. I believe you began to regularly rape her a few weeks before her death. But she started talking to Rodelli. It scared you. Obviously you couldn't risk letting anyone even suspect Susie was being raped. So on the night of the 28th you drank more than usual and did something that without the drink you wouldn't have the courage. You gave Susie your little music box. The little English box. The one that fires a projectile as soon as the melody ends. Next you took all the girl's bloody underwear and threw them into the fireplace. The embers were barely lit. But you didn't let that slow you down. You went out to Nozari and locked the door.

I didn't look in Piers's face. But Rodelli was in front of me and I could see that he was astonished.

- Bernie then arrived and entered here somehow; I don't know how or from where. - I took a drag. - She heard the little girl as she turned the handle of the box. Susie recognized the melody and began to hum along. When the music stopped Bernie heard the sound of the bullet. She climbed the stairs and saw the dead girl. Then he tried to steal her due: the six thousand francs.

- Six thousand francs she earned by cheating - Bundy said seriously.

- I don't doubt it - I said, lighting another cigarette. I blew the smoke toward Rodelli. - And then Rodelli came in to hear the noise, and Bernie got out. And... I think that's it.

- Conjectures! - Laughed Bundy. - Can you prove that I'm the killer?

"You wouldn't deny that you speak Italian fluently. Would you?

- What's your point?

- A person in your position wouldn't hide anything that could help an investigator find out as much as possible about the case. Isn't it?

- Hide? Of course not!

- Then why did you hide the body part of the news from Gazzetta's first day issue that informed the public of a music box beside the body? - I said in one breath.

- I certainly told you about the box!

I turned my head and looked at Piers.

- Did he? - I said.

- No, he didn't - said Piers. He was breathing heavily and was looking seriously at the suspect.

I turned back to Bundy.

- We are already two witnesses.

- OK, so at worst I forgot to mention it! - said Bundy. - That still means nothing!

- You forgot the weapon used in your granddaughter's murder. Honestly I don't think the jury will believe that. - I looked at Piers. - Do you think the jury will believe it?

- Never - he said. - I do not think so. Now let me munch his face.

- Make yourself comfortable. But remember that the cops are coming.

- Hang on! Hang on! - Bundy shouted, slowly rising from the chair. I'd never seen him so euphoric and flushed. The veins in his neck and head jumped. - The reason I forgot... is that I don't think the music box is a box. I mean, a gun. I don't know where you heard it from! A gun in a music box! It's ridiculous! There are no weapons like that! I bet a thousand against one that there's no such absurd invention worldwide!

- Gosh... I think that's right...

- Unfortunately, Signor Harper - said Rodelli. - I'm afraid that now that the box is destroyed it will not be easy to explain the mechanism to the judge.

There was a silence that lasted a minute. Bundy was calmer. He had leaned back in his chair and his expression was blank. I took my cigarette, trying to give the impression that I was worried. Piers was still anxious and seemed to be waiting for an answer from me. I didn't notice Rodelli. I scratched my forehead.

- Yeah... - I said. - It will be difficult to explain to the judge... Unless... Oh! Of course! - I put my hand on my forehead as if remembering something. I realized that I attracted the men's attention to me. Especially Bundy. He lifted his chin and frowned.

I took the box Bernie had given me out of my pocket.

- What is it? - said Piers. He was the only one who seemed anxious for the truth.

I threw the box to him. I fumigated the rest of the cigarette and pressed it against the ashtray.

- The weapon - I said, releasing from my nostrils what was left of the smoke in me. - I think it'll be easy now to explain to the judge. Don't worry; It's not loaded.

He examined the box after opening it and then looked alternately at the three of us. He turned the crank. He went around it twice. He let it go. Bach's Symphony started to play. It played for a few seconds until there was a loud crack that ceased the music. The pin had come loose.

- What was this? - asked Rodelli. He was in his usual serenity.

- The shot. If there was a bullet in there, Mr. Condry would be with his family now.

Everyone looked at Bundy - who was downcast and solemn.

- Well, well... - Rodelli said, smiling. - Looks like your arguments are over, Mr. Bundy.

- I'm going to rip his arms off - Piers said, rising. He had tears in his eyes. Bundy looked up at him.

- Wait - I said, raising my hand. - Bundy. Will you confess?

- Yes - Bundy said seriously. Piers sat down again. - When Susie arrived she started asking for details about my life. I had never seen her before. I had never seen a girl so charming, so... refined, so... interested in who I was, how I lived, what I did.

Bundy said he'dd considered enrolling her in a music school because she really liked his piano. She kept fiddling with him for hours every day. She didn't want to eat. She was very thin in a few weeks. Both of them made a deal then: she would feed herself regularly and Bundy would give her piano lessons. She accepted and Bundy began to teach her every day. She liked it a lot. Soon he taught her how to cook. She started cooking for him. He began going to Nozari more often because the thief was a challenge to him and he could never defeat her in poker. But he knew that when he returned home there would always be an omelet or a french toast waiting for him.

But one night he came home after losing a lot of money and went directly to the liquor cabinet - the one above the counter. Broke a cup. He was very angry at the time. He drank three glasses of port. He heard Susie's voice behind him. But he didn't distinguish the words. Drunk like that, he couldn't even. He was concerned about how he would recover his money - a significant percentage of his savings. He was about to collapse when Susie called him again.

- Shut up! - He shouted, throwing his arm back and patting a hard object.

When he turned around Susie was kneeling on the floor looking at shards of a porcelain plate and a dismantled omelet. So Bundy went to his room and stayed there until the next day.

He talked to Susie in the morning. He apologized and it was ok. He even managed to recover some of his money at night. But then he started to drink a lot in the casino and come home quite insane.

He raped Susie two or three times. Then he began to suspect she was telling Rodelli everything. So... The rest was as I said.

- Where did you get the box? - I said.

- In London, with an acquaintance, years ago.

- OK. - I looked at Piers and smiled. - Are you satisfied?

- No - he answered with trembling eyelids. - I want to kill this bastard.

- Wait a minute. - I uncrossed my legs and stood up. - Pay what you owe me. Then do what you want, but don't forget that Refosco's gang is coming. By the way... - I looked out the window. - Already here. Mr. Rodelli... Thank you for your cooperation. You can go home now.

I received my money and left everything in Piers's hands.

I found Bernie's car next to Refosco's when I left... and she was inside it. She was pretty in round sunglasses.

- What are you doing here? - I asked. I poked my head into the window.

- I was waiting for you. How was it?

- It's a long story.

- Do you want to tell me over dinner?"

- At where?

- Buca Mario, Florence! - she said forcing an Italian accent.

- Do you already have the tickets?

- First class, 7:45 pm.

- It's ok. Let's go to Unione to get my luggage.

I got in the car. She started it and drove.