"Dibdin, Michael - Aurelio Zen 02 - Vendetta UC - part 09" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dibdin Michael)

The caretaker said nothing. His face was set so hard it
looked as though it might crack.
Once the villa's luxury credentials had been established,
Zen was taken into the older part of the house to appreci-
ate its aesthetic qualities. A short passageway cut through
the thick outer walls of the original farm brought them into
a large lounge furnished with leather armchairs, inlaid
hardwood tables, Afghan carpets and bookcases full of
antique bindings. The head of a disgruntled-looking wild
boar emerged from the stonework above an enormous
open fireplace as though the animal had charged through
the wall and got stuck.
Zen walked over to a carved rosewood gun-rack near
the door and inspected the shotguns on display, including
an early Beretta and a fine Purdy.
'Do they go with the property?' he asked.
The caretaker shrugged.
'There seems to be one missing,' Zen pursued,
indicating the empty slot.
Bini turned pointedly away towards the sliding doors
opening on to the terrace.
'What's this?' Zen called after him, pointing to a wooden
hatch in the flooring.
'The cellar,' replied the caretaker tonelessly.
'And next door?'
Bini pretended not to hear. Ignoring him, Zen walked
through the doorway into the dining room of the villa. In
the lounge, the stones of the original walls had been left
uncovered as a design feature, but here they had been
plastered and painted white. Zen looked around the room
that was horribly familiar to him from the video. It was a
shock, somehow, to find the walls not splashed and
flecked and streaked with blood, but pristine and spotless.
A shuffling in the doorway behind him announced the
caretaker's presence.
'Fresh paint?' Zen queried, sniffing the air.
Just for a moment, something stirred into life in the old
man's passive gaze. Angelo Confalone would have briefed
him carefully, of course. 'Say nothing about what hap-
pened! Don't mention Burolo's name! Just keep your
mouth shut and with any luck you might keep your job.'
Bini had done his best to obey these instructions so far,
but now the strain was beginning to show.
'Nice and clean,' Zen commented approvingly.
The caretaker's mouth cracked open in a ghastly grin.
'My wife, she cleans everything, every day...'
Zen nodded. He had read the investigators' reports on
the couple. Giuseppina Bini was one of those elderly
women who, having grown up when doctors were expen-
sive and often ineffective, strove obsessively to keep the