Becwethan (The Leopold Dix Thrillers Book 1) Read online

  The service started at midday so at 11.30 I began the process of moving him.

  “Don’t take me” he hollered, as I pushed his chair to the door. “Someone stop him” he pleaded in jest. A brief respite in the weather allowed me to push him the 500 yards from the Moiry to the church without getting soaked. A sort of sleety drizzle had settled in. We parked up outside the church and with surprising alacrity Gustav dismounted and crutched up.

  “I can do this Leo, seriously, I’ve been practicing”. I stood aside and let him prove it.

  The church was already a quarter full. Gustav held his head high and started down the aisle, I caught Catherine’s eye, she’d already started crying.

  “It’s going to be an emotional one” I said under my breath.

  “You better believe it” Gustav replied, “It’s a sort of joyous mourning; the first time the village has had a get together since the; well since the thing.”

  Gustav was right; he made it to the front row without a hitch, then sat down heavily. “Right, you’ve got the speech and you’ve got the rings” he looked accusingly.

  “Yes and yes,” I patted my jacket pockets left and right. I turned away as the blood drained from my face, the speech was there; the rings were at Rothorn.

  ‘Shit and shit’ I thought.

  The flowers were making me sneeze, they provided the perfect foil. “These lilly’s are making me achtishooooo, I’ll just get some tissue.” I stood and moved to the back of the church fearful that Dominique could appear any second. My mind was recounting the scene from ‘four weddings and a funeral’, I’d always thought it a little farfetched that the best man would forget the rings; after all what other duties did he have? And here I was in the very same predicament. I looked at Simmy, she didn’t even ask what was wrong; slipping a simple silver or white gold ring off her finger. The second ring could have been more of a challenge. Gustav’s hands were the closest things I’d ever seen to a bunch of bananas. The answer was right in front of me, Pascal Vianni, not only were his fingers fat but they were yellow, ‘more banana than hand’ I thought ‘perfect’. I showed him Simmy’s ring and pleaded with my face. He probably hadn’t taken it off for a few years, as he struggled to get it off his finger. He spat on his finger to try and lubricate the process. One last pull and it was off. The doors opened and the music began.

  I scuttled back with Simmy’s simple ring and a yellow phlegm covered baroque masterpiece. What else could I expect from a man who wore square toed burgundy slip on shoes?

  The ceremony was breathtaking, a full church, flowers, candles, stained glass, tears and laughter. Laughter when Pascal’s ring slipped perfectly onto Gustav’s banana.

  “I’m gonna get you Dix” he muttered under his breath.

  Dom had no room for tears; she’d cried those all out over the preceding months, her face was one of absolute and unadulterated joy and happiness.

  The ceremony finished we paraded through the village to the awaiting telecabines; a particularly vicious rain storm accompanying us on our way. It was a little like a scene from Spartacus; shields in front and overhead as the volley of arrows rained down; a human armadillo, umbrellas raised in defence.

  The reception was being held at the ski station restaurant, Bendola; the only place big enough to accommodate the village. I climbed into the second telecabine, the first being reserved for the ‘happy couple’, and moved smoothly up the mountain, a 600 or so metre altitude gain in only a few minutes. I looked up toward Bendola rubbing my cheek, ‘last time I was here I had my face kicked in’ I thought.

  Simmy seemed to sense a tensing of my shoulders, reached out and squeezed my hand.

  “You ok?” She said.

  “Just going through the speech, I’ll be glad when it’s over.” She squeezed my hand again and winked.

  We dashed across the open ground from the telecabine to the automatic sliding doors of the restaurant and entered the Aladdin’s cave. The place had been transformed; fabrics covered the large expanse of glass, the kitchens no longer visible from the seating area.

  I turned to Simmy “it’s like a marquee has been erected inside the restaurant”.

  “It’s, it’s amazing, and I never thought I’d be saying that about Bendola” she replied.

  It took forty minutes to get everyone up and another twenty to get them all seated.

  TWENTY SIX

  The meal progressed quickly; Bendola was used to catering on this scale, and before I knew it the speeches had begun. My stomach had started to tighten, it was nothing debilitating, but the necessary nerves to focus my mind. I glanced at my notes, listening to Dom’s father, Remy, recounting a childhood memory. It was at this point that I started to have doubts about Mrs Beaton. Was it too close to the bone? Would they understand it? The reception had probably swelled to 500 people and unfortunately Remy’s speech was going down well. He sat down to a healthy round of applause and everyone stared at me. The snow had started to fall quite heavily, I could see a number of late arrivals with large flakes on their shoulders, in their hair, searching eagerly for a place to sit, a place from where to be dazzled by the great orator. ‘Just get the fuck on with it’ I thought.

  I stood, Gustav cheered, Rufus whistled and people started to tap their glasses, calling for quiet.

  “It was my mother, Emily Von Arx Dix, who sent me out here. To rebuild a chalet left to her by her father……….” Rufus told me afterwards that he timed me at 13 minutes.

  “They just didn’t laugh as long as I’d thought” I said.

  “Come on dad, it was brilliant. The Swiss just aren’t as expressive as a British audience.”

  “I knew something had gone wrong when I was asked by one old dear if I was a butcher, and how should she identify the age of a wood pigeon.”

  “It was the best dad, a cracker, I’ll get you a fendant.” Rufus sped off on a mission of mercy and Simmy joined me.

  “I’ve told you, it was very funny, it’s just some of the older folk didn’t quite get the double entendre, they thought it was more of a lecture on selecting poultry and game.” She laughed out loud, “I’m going to enjoy this one. The village now think that you’re the perfect match for me. I’m crazy about biking and you’re nuts about poultry.”

  I shook my head in disbelief, I’d let Mrs Beaton down.

  We circulated the room and wound up sitting next to my great aunt.

  “Janine, what an occasion eh?” She looked genuinely pleased to see me.

  “Your mother would have been very proud of you, an excellent speech. Oh and so practical, all that stuff about choosing the right ingredients. I’ve always said the food’s only as good as the ingredients.”

  We continued to chat for five minutes, then I received a signal from Gustav to come over.

  “I’m in demand Janine, Gustav needs us over there” I said.

  I turned to Simmy, “have you seen Luke anywhere? We probably need to team him up with Janine.”

  “My brother’s not here” Janine replied.

  “I’m sorry, is he not well?”

  “No, nothing like that Leo; he’s afraid of you.”

  I sent Simmy off to see what Gustav needed and sat down next to Janine.

  “Why’s he afraid of me?” A long silence followed; longer than any silence I’ve experienced before. Janine looked at me and over the next couple of minutes I could see, in her eyes, that she had made up her mind to tell me something; something unspoken for a long time. ‘Perhaps she knows where Marc is’ I thought. I kept still and waited until she was ready.

  “I should have married; I should have had a wedding dress, a party. I had Paulo you see.”

  “Paulo?” I prompted.

  “I still say it to myself, Janine Della Porta. I should have been Mrs Janine Della Porta.”

  “What happened? Why didn’t you marry?”

  “He loved me, and then one day he was gone. Clothes packed bills paid and not even a goodbye. Luke said he must have alre
ady been married.”

  I knew that weddings did this to people, thoughts about ‘what if’ and ‘if only’. But the context of what Janine was telling me made me listen carefully.

  “I never believed that he left me, Luke knows I don’t believe it…… I think he was taken from me, and that’s why Luke’s scared of you. You’ve unearthed the village’s darkest secrets.”

  Janine had hooked me, and she knew it.

  The telecabine kept running until 9.00pm, Simmy and I snuck off at 8.00pm the bride and groom long gone by then.

  TWENTY SEVEN

  It was Sunday morning, a dull pain sat between my eyes, pulsing every time the church bell rang.

  Simmy handed me a pint sized mug of tea. “That’ll put you straight.”

  “Jesus, I didn’t sleep well” I flexed my neck.

  “I know” Simmy replied, “I was just here; you were elbowing me and generally cursing.”

  “I just couldn’t shake Janine out of my head; what she was telling me yesterday, it was a big deal for her. I need to pass it on to Pascal, see if he can track down…. If Paulo just returned home, or was registered as missing. Christ, with the exception of Marc I figured this thing as over.”

  “I’ll make us some breakfast, you call Pascal.” Simmy floated off to her kitchen and I searched my jacket for the information on Paulo.

  I dialled Pascal’s number; it went to answer phone.

  “Pascal it’s Leo, thanks for the loan of the ring. Can you call me? I’ve got another possible missing person from before my father, 66 years ago.” I pressed end.

  It didn’t take Pascal long to return my call, he took all the details I’d gleaned from Janine. “I hope it’s a dead end, we don’t need any more bodies on this one” he concluded.

  My nose led me to the kitchen, the tea had worked its magic and the headache had gone.

  “Why do you think Luke’s scared?” Simmy asked.

  “The obvious would be that he started the whole thing, got shot of Paulo, worked with Marc to remove my father …. Marc took over from there. Perhaps he has always been Marc’s council. I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself; we need the facts on Paulo, but I’ve no idea how good the Italian records will be.” We settled into breakfast and reminisced about the previous day.

  The trek back to Rothorn the following day was positively wintery. Three perhaps four inches of snow had settled. Simmy and I followed the freshly made footsteps of Rufus back. Supplies had been running low, so we filled two large rucksacks and lugged them up. Whilst Simmy and Rufus unloaded I headed higher for reception as I’d promised Pascal I’d check in with him that evening.

  “Italian efficiency” Pascal had said, well the words weren’t synonymous in my language. “Yes, Paulo Della Porta was a missing man; the records in Milan were excellent. The son of a lawyer, he’d never returned home from a European trip; now assumed dead.”

  A feeling of distaste for the old man enveloped me. Janine was probably right Luke had been the architect of Paulo’s disappearance.

  Pascal had asked me to do nothing; he would follow up on it in the morning; I had other plans.

  TWENTY EIGHT

  It was a surprise to Simmy and Rufus that I arrived back and immediately announced that I was off to Grimentz.

  “But we’ve just got here Leo,” Simmy sounded a little pissed off.

  “I just need you to bear with me.”

  “I think we deserve a little more than that” she replied.

  “Ok….” I thought for a second, “Pascal’s got a positive that Paulo’s a missing person”.

  “And you’re going to pay Luke a visit?” Simmy raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that Pascal’s territory now?” Her point was valid, and she wanted me to stay but I continued to disappoint.

  “What’s going on?” Rufus looked slightly bewildered.

  “Simmy’ll explain, I’ll be gone for a couple, say three hours.” My voice was flat and factual, no more objections were raised.

  “Take care” Simmy smiled, “I want another chess lesson when you get back”.

  “Set up the pieces;” I kissed her and left her to an enquiring Rufus.

  On the descent I planned my best approach, jumped into Wolf and drove to the centre of the village. Luke lived in a tiny chalet just below Marc’s. With Marc’s disappearance his only immediate neighbour was Janine who occupied the basement of Marc’s place. The evening was dark; the thunder clouds had thrown a blanket over everything. A downstairs’ light shone… a bare bulb. I stood on his front porch and knocked. The door opened and Luke stared through me. I gestured with my hand for him to lead the way and I followed. We stood facing one another in a small sitting room. Still no words had been spoken; I sat; he sat; he looked all of his 85 years. I began; “Marc’s dead” I left a silence and he started to cry. “Shot dead last night” I paused again. “He was like the son you never had, wasn’t he Luke?”

  His voice was quiet, weak, shaky “‘shared values’ we used to say, we believed in the same things.”

  “Where did you bury Janine’s friend….Paulo, ……Paulo Della Porta?”

  There was no reason to hide anything, his world had finished. “At Rothorn, a metre or so below the other one.”

  “Below my father” I said.

  He never spoke again. He pulled out an old revolver, placed it gently in his mouth, and pulled the trigger. I felt no remorse and no need to hang around. A flick of the curtain was all I saw from Janine’s basement.

  My ears were still ringing when I parked the car. There was no need for me to let the police know, the noise of the shot would suffice.

  TWENTY NINE

  Two days later Janine died in her sleep, comforted that her brother had taken his own life.

  The wood burner was kicking out some serious heat, whilst Simmy and I sat around chatting like an old married couple. The snow had melted quickly from two days before, but winter was closing around us fast.

  “Ahoy”.

  “It’s Pascal” Simmy said looking out of the window.

  “Oh, I hope he’s in the burgundy slip ons” I chuckled.

  “No such luck, it looks like a kind of waterproof overshoe, perhaps they’re underneath”.

  “Come in” I gave him a big handshake. “Tea?”

  “Yes please,” I don’t know what the attraction of living in this graveyard is.” He puffed and panted, beads of perspiration running down his neck.

  “I’ve tried you a couple of times, you must have heard about the deaths of Luke and Janine.”

  “Yes” we said together.

  “Come on Leo, I’ve not come all this way for a yes” Pascal waited.

  I poured the tea, “I was going to tell you later; I’ve written a summary on the laptop; but now that you’re here. Yes, I paid a visit to Luke. I know you asked me not to, but I needed to see the man who orchestrated my father’s disappearance, probably death. I needed to look him in the eyes and see through my mother’s wishes, to rake up the last of the unpalatable past.”

  “What happened?”

  “He told me he had a special bond with Marc, ‘shared values’ he called it. Yes, he’d been involved in the disappearance of Janine’s boy friend, or whatever he was. Then quite calmly he put a gun in his mouth and blew his brains all over the ceiling.” Simmy moved closer to me and stared at Pascal, a gesture of support.

  “And Paulo?”

  “A metre or so below my father.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ; that makes 11 dead and one absconded. Is that it Leo? Is there anything else?”

  “No, that’s it.”

  We sat down, “I need to report it as it was Leo. Your car was seen moving through the village a few minutes after the shot had been heard. Send me your report; I’ll see if that’s enough, I may need to…”

  “It’s not a problem Pascal, I’d be happy to come in for a formal interview if you need it. I know how these things work.”

  Rufus returned to Rothorn early af
ternoon, just as the police excavation began in earnest.

  “Did they miss something?” A puzzled look on his face.

  “Another body, below your grandfather’s” Simmy replied. “Come inside, Leo’s getting his messages, I’ll update you.”

  The digging team were making good progress; the recently excavated soil from the first hole had given them a fast start. One man stood at shoulder depth, working a fork into the earth and then shovelling the loose soil onto a plastic mat. A second man sifted through the spoil and moved it to the side.

  “I’m up to speed” Rufus announced as I entered the Chalet. “It’s got to be the end of it now man.”

  “Just one loose end” I replied; Rufus nodded, a tight smile across his face.

  “I’m ready to update you on my plans” Rufus almost whispered. It just showed how used to dead bodies in the garden we had become. The excavation was of no particular interest, we’d lived through months of it.

  “I’ll leave you two to it” Simmy said; “I need a shower”, and she was gone.

  So Rufus and I sat down and I listened to his plans; his issues about getting a work permit, his residency and how Gustav needed someone to run the business with him. Pascoe was gone, Gustav wouldn’t be climbing for the foreseeable, and it left an opening for Rufus to work and do what he loved best, climb.

  “Well, what d’ya think?” his voice hopeful.

  I’d listened without interruption; this was his plan and right now all he needed from me was my undying, wither free support.

  “You know you can stay here.” I raised my palms. “I think it sounds perfect. Yes, it’s the perfect job for you; and Gustav will appreciate the support.”

  “I need to run it past mum. I know she’ll hate it, but she’ll have to get used to it. If it’s ok by you dad I’ll invite her out here for a long weekend, I was thinking mid November.”

  “Sound plan”, that was Rufus’s problem now.