“Do you know this man?” the other officer asked.

“I know him,” Paola said, “as well as you do. He has lived in San Salvatore all his life. But this young lady does not. I told you, she is newly arrived here.”

“And do you have any idea why Gianni may have chosen to hang around your house at night?” There was a sneer to the voice of the unpleasant Carabinieri.

“Certainly not to court me,” Paola said hotly. “Of course we know no reason. Signorina Langley and my daughter Angelina and I were enjoying our dinner together and then we went to bed. That is the story of our evening. As to how this man wound up in my well, I would say it is likely that he was knocked out on the path on his way out of town and that my well appealed to his attackers as a good place to hide his body because my house was closest to the path.”

“We can make no assumptions yet,” one of them said. “You will both be required to come up to our headquarters in the town and make an official statement. Later there will be further enquiries. It may be that the inspector from the municipal decides to come from Lucca, since this is clearly a murder investigation. You are not to leave this place without permission, is that clear?”

I hadn’t managed to follow this, but I understood more when Paola said, “I have no intention of going anywhere, but this young lady, she may have to return to her homeland quite soon. She is not to be held up by a murder investigation about which she knows nothing.”

“As for that, we shall see when we have made further enquiries,” the fat one said. “For the time being she is to remain here. Understood?”

I nodded. The full implications of this were just sinking in. The men at that table would undoubtedly be questioned. They would say that Gianni wanted to walk me home but I refused. They might say that Gianni flirted with me. I could see that a warped imagination might read several scenarios into that. Perhaps they would all like to be able to pin a murder on an outsider. I felt sick.

Paola didn’t seem at all perturbed. “I’ll leave you men to go about your business and have this man’s body removed from my premises,” she said. “As for my well, I suppose my water is now contaminated. Poor Signorina Langley certainly won’t want to take her shower until it has been treated. Come, my dear, you shall use the bathroom at the farmhouse and have a good long soak in my tub. Our water comes from the mains.”

With that she put an arm firmly around my shoulder and led me away from the crime scene.

“Don’t let them upset you,” she said as she closed the kitchen door behind us. “Those men are bullies. They are not from around here. The Carabinieri are only country policemen, always chosen from among the uncouth and the loutish. Many of them come from Sicily, and we know what kind of people live down there, don’t we? Gangsters. Mafiosi. Still, they are not permitted by law to investigate major crimes. With luck a senior inspector from Lucca will be sent and all will be well. But first let me pour you coffee, and you should have a good breakfast before you take your bath.”

Angelina had been standing just outside the kitchen door, watching from a distance with the baby in her arms. As we approached, the baby started to cry. Angelina rocked her back and forth. “Have those horrible men gone yet, Mamma?” she asked. “Is it true that someone was murdered? I did not like to come closer in case the shock curdled my milk and I could not feed the little one.”

“It is true, mia cara,” Paola said. “The poor man who lost his life was Gianni.”

“Oh, Gianni.” Angelina nodded thoughtfully as she put the baby to her shoulder and patted its back. “Well, I suppose that is not a complete shock, is it?”

“It is always a shock when someone dies before their time,” Paola said. “Go put the little one down and we will have our breakfast. This poor young lady is shivering as if she has been out in the snow.”

She sat me at the table as if I was a helpless child, put a cup of milky coffee in front of me, and then placed bread and jam and cheese on the table. “Eat. You will feel better.”

My stomach felt as if it had tied itself into knots, and I didn’t think I could eat anything, but with Paola hovering over and watching me, I had to at least take some sips of hot coffee and then spread some apricot jam on a slice of bread. The bread must have been baked that morning. It was still warm, and the butter and fresh apricot jam melted together so that I almost sighed with pleasure at the combination of textures and flavours. Who could have thought that bread and jam could have such an effect? I had a second slice, then some sharp cheese, and by that time I was feeling almost human again and strong enough to tackle even the most boorish Carabinieri.

Angelina came to join us, cutting herself a big hunk of bread and topping it with lashings of butter.

“Why did you say you were not shocked that Gianni was killed?” I asked her.

She shrugged. “It is said that sometimes Gianni makes deals, not quite legal ones, you know? Maybe cigarettes from a boat that comes to the coast. That sort of thing.”

“We don’t know that,” Paola said. “It is all hearsay. It is true he is not liked in town. Not trusted. And now this business with the olive press.”

“He wanted to get men together to build his own olive press, is that right?” I asked.

She nodded. “And of course Cosimo would not be happy if that came to pass. But I don’t think it would ever have happened. The other men would not have wanted to risk defying Cosimo. I think Gianni stuck his neck out for nothing.”