So, how does Mrs Rodby know the Countess?

…

Her name was Isabella Agostini, but I suspect that was not her real name.  I had stood to one side after we entered the solicitor’s rooms, and let her state why she was there.

I could have been wrong about her, but I had to admit if I wasn’t, she was quick on her feet.  There was no doubt she knew who I was, not why I was there, and I had to state my business, which gave away information I preferred not to.

Now she knew why I was there, and that I was working with the countess, though I had to believe she already knew that too.  The question was, were they using me to find the countess.

There were a half dozen chairs in that waiting room, and I chose to sit next to her.  It surprised her, or I hope it did.

“You here for any particular reason,” I asked. 

I did so only because I had to maintain that I-don’t-know-Italian thing.  If I did, I’d know it was for a matter of making a will.  I accompanied the question with a look of sincere interest.

“Legal stuff,” she said.  It sounded quaint with her Italian accent which suddenly crept in. 

Had I caught her off guard?

“You?” she asked, trying to make it sound like an offhand comment.

“Legal stuff, boring really.  I’d rather be touring the Vatican, maybe I’ll get there later.  Seen it?”

‘What?”

OK.  She was losing interest in the small talk and had started looking at her cell phone.

“The Vatican?”

‘Yes.  Big.”  And went back to her phone, a sign the small talk was over.

Perhaps it was a sign.  The solicitor, Benito, came out and called my name, gave the girl a dismissive look and motioned me to follow him.

Benito was one of those old, tired, family retainers, who had been doing the job for a hundred years, and looking forward to the next.

He obviously had a set of clients who paid well, because the rooms, not to mention the building, reeked money.

He was dressed in an expensive, but tired suit, and was slightly unkempt, part of an act, I thought, to keep people guessing as to his competence.  The other lawyers, not his clients.

“The girl belong to you?”

“No.  She followed me in.  She says she’s here to see you about making a will.”

“Odd.  She works for a private detective agency, and knowing the Burkehardt’s as I do, she’s probably working for them.

“How could they know I’m here?”

He shrugged.  “They seem to know everything.

“Except where the countess is, so it stands to reason they would follow her associates and see if they lead them to her.  Why the interest in the countess?”

“The damage she could do to their business.”

“You mean she’s not a good businesswoman?”

“Oh, I’m sure she could do that.  It’s the other business.

“You mean the Burkehardt’s are criminals?”

“Not in so many words, and it would be a brave man to accuse them.  But some of the business they do, on the side, is illegal.  I’ve tried to tell the countess that it would be unwise to try and fulfil her late husband’s wishes, but she says it was his fervent wish she did.”

“What would she get if she walked away?”

“They offered her a house and an income.  I believe it is a fair offer, but she seems reticent.  It’s better than the alternative.  They have judges who will deliver verdicts they want, and they will give her nothing.”

“Is she entitled to it?”

“According to the law, but there can be exceptions.  They will use one of those exceptions.  I can fight it, but even if we prove his intent she should inherit, it might not go our way.  What is your interest in this matter?  The countess has not mentioned you before today.”

“A friend of a friend.  Mrs Rodby asked me if I could help her persuade the Burkehardt’s to honour their son’s will.”

“I’m not surprised Mrs Rodby is concerned.  You do know she is the countess’s stepsister, don’t you.”

© Charles Heath 2023