Murder in Chianti

T A Williams

Description

The brand new instalment in bestselling author T. A. Williams' Armstrong and Oscar cozy mystery series!

A brand new cozy crime series set in gorgeous Tuscany...It's murder in paradise!

Murder in broad daylight…

When millionaire magnate, Rex Hunter is found with his head bashed in on the eighth hole of his prestigious golf and country club in beautiful Chianti, it’s a clear case of murder. Hunter was rich and successful and the envy of many, so retired DCI Dan Armstrong thinks the case will be a hole in one to solve….

A despised victim…

But as Dan and his trusty sidekick Oscar begin to dig deeper into Hunter’s lifestyle, they discover a man despised by many. A renowned womaniser, ruthless boss and heartless family man, it seems no one is particularly sorry to see Hunter dead. And the list of possible suspects is endless…

A murderer covering their tracks.

Dan is determined to catch this clever killer, but it seems every new lead brings another dead end. Will this be one case Dan and his canine companion won’t solve?

A gripping new murder mystery series by bestselling author T.A. Williams, perfect for fans of Lee Strauss and Beth Byers.

Reader Reviews for Murder in Chianti'The story line is brilliant no boring parts and kept me guessing to the end. Can't wait for the next one!' ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Reader Review

'Well written, good plot, lovely descriptions of Tuscany and Italian way of life. Looking forward to the next in series, love the dog' ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Reader Review

'I highly recommend these books . Tremendous fun and very witty and written with a light touch' ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Reader ReviewPraise for T.A. Williams!

"The perfect combination of character, setting and plot, heralding an addictive new cozy mystery series!" Bestselling author Debbie Young

"Watching unassuming detective Dan Armstrong weddle the truth out of folks is great fun. Highly Entertaining read!" Bestselling author Kelly Oliver

“Dan and Oscar are great company in a sun-drenched mystery that keeps you guessing right till the end.” Bestselling author Michelle Salter

Sujets

• Policier & Thriller
• Policier
• Mashups
• Private Investigators
• Amateur Sleuth
• Traditional
• World Literature
• Thrillers
• Friendship
• Cozy
• Detective
• Italy
• My Last Duchess
• Mystery
• Dogs
• Animals
• Chianti
• Crime
• Cats
• Thriller
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Boldwood Books
• Date de parution: 27 janvier 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781804832264
• Langue: English

Extrait

MURDER IN CHIANTI


T. A. WILLIAMS
To Mariangela and Christina, who both like a good whodunnit. With love, as ever.
CONTENTS



Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Epilogue


Acknowledgments

More from T.A. Williams

About the Author

About Boldwood Books

Poison & Pens
PROLOGUE
TUESDAY MORNING

Beppe had always liked early mornings, and particularly in high summer as it was now. It had been a hot, clammy night and at this time of day, before the heat built up and settled over the countryside in a stifling pall, he felt refreshed. Although he had lived in this part of Tuscany for over sixty years, he knew he would happily swap the heat of July for a cold winter’s day. Here in the shade of the trees it certainly wasn’t cold by a long chalk, but the temperature was bearable. He stuck his hand out of the open window and directed the cooler morning air onto his face as the Land Rover bumped up the track alongside the golf course. It felt good to be alive.
He was shaken out of his contemplative mood by young Alfredo alongside him – for once without his nose buried in his phone.
‘What’s that, Beppe? Is it a wild boar?’
They had just come off the track past the woods and were moving out onto the eighth fairway, approaching the hole. Beppe followed the line of the pointing finger and saw a dark shape lying in the sand of the bunker to the right of the green.
‘It’d better not be. We checked the fence only last week. Those damn things can do untold damage to the course in just a few hours,’ Beppe grumbled in annoyance. ‘And we haven’t even brought the rifle.’
‘Shall we go and scare it off?’
There was a degree of apprehension in Alfredo’s voice and rightly so. An elderly farmer from the next village had been badly injured by a boar in his own vineyard only a few months back. But this morning they had solid protection in the shape of the Land Rover. Beppe didn’t hesitate and he spun the wheel, heading straight for the bunker.
It was only as they drew closer that the realisation began to dawn on them that it wasn’t a wild boar after all. The shape in the sand was unmistakably human.
‘Do you think he’s…?’ Alfredo liked to give the impression of being a tough boy with his tattoos and his earring, but his tone now was that of a nervous teenager.
Beppe snorted. ‘Drunk and passed out, more likely. Though why he had to come up here to one of my beautiful bunkers to sleep it off, I don’t know.’ He drew up a few yards short of the sand trap and climbed out. ‘Well, he’s going to get a rude awakening, that’s for sure.’
He strode up to the lip of the bunker and stopped dead as he realised that this man would never have another awakening – rude or otherwise.
‘Jesus!’ He pulled off his cap and ran his fingers through his thinning hair. ‘Would you look at that!’
‘Oh God…’
Beside him, Beppe was vaguely aware of Alfredo’s sharp intake of breath as they contemplated the figure sprawled in the bunker. The sand around his head had turned black as the blood from the catastrophic wounds had soaked away. They stood there, rooted to the spot, for a good long time before Beppe realised that there was something all too familiar about the clothes and the body. He hurried around the lip of the bunker until he could see the side of the man’s face that wasn’t buried in the sand. The grey moustache and the perfect teeth were unmistakable, as was the broad-brimmed, Australian leather sunhat lying over by the sand trap rake. There could be no doubt about it. Spinning around to the boy, who was as white as a sheet, he broke the news to him.
‘It’s Signor Hunter.’ He couldn’t believe what he was about to say. ‘Somebody’s killed Signor Hunter.’
‘Are you sure he’s dead? Shouldn’t we check?’ He started to head towards the body, but Beppe reached out and stopped him before he stepped into the sand.
‘Don’t go any closer. The police will need to come and investigate.’
‘But what if he’s still alive? Shouldn’t we go for help?’ Alfredo was still sounding shaky.
Beppe’s eyes flicked back to the mangled corpse for a second or two. ‘He’s past help, Alfredo. Take the Land Rover and hurry back to the clubhouse. Tell them what’s happened while I phone the police.’
‘What has happened?’
‘He’s been killed, murdered, that’s what’s happened. Haven’t you got eyes in your head?’ Seeing the boy still staring vacantly at the crumpled heap in the sand, he clapped his hands to rouse him from his stunned state. ‘Go, boy, go and tell everybody.’
By the time Alfredo had turned the vehicle and set off again, Beppe was already through to the emergency services.
1
TUESDAY NIGHT

‘Are you as hot as I am, Oscar?’
Hearing his name, the dog opened one eye, but only for a second or two before lapsing back into a comatose state on the terracotta tiles. He was stretched out across the floor with his pink tongue hanging halfway out of his mouth. He looked as hot as I felt. Above him, the grainy black and white movie on TV Toscana was just finishing with a cacophony of discordant music. The soundtrack had been slightly out of sync all the way through, but that minor inconvenience had been eclipsed by the truly woeful dubbing into Italian. I had lost count of the number of times the scantily clad heroine had opened her mouth to scream a single syllable – unmistakably ‘Help!’ – and the middle-aged voiceover actress rendering her into Italian had produced ‘ aiuto’ , no fewer than three syllables. Still, the movie had taught me a few more bits of Italian vocabulary so it hadn’t been all bad, although I doubted just how many times in my life I was going to need to reproduce the word for ‘werewolf’.
I gave my own pet werewolf an affectionate prod with my toe and continued my one-sided conversation with him; something I’d been doing a lot of over the past year since he had entered my life.
‘Well, even if you’re comfortable, I’m boiling. How about a walk?’
As usual, the magic word galvanised the Labrador into action and he leapt to his feet, shook himself, and made a beeline for the door. Outside it was a little fresher than in the house, but still very warm even though the sun had set three hours earlier. The sky was clear and the stars were shining brightly enough to cast faint shadows of me and my dog against the white gravel track. Up here in the hills there was little light pollution apart from the distant orange glow of Florence to the north-east, and the only noise was the gentle sighing of the lightest of breezes in the branches above me. As my four-legged friend and I walked up the hill between the never-ending succession of cypress trees lining the track, I breathed deeply and reflected on how my life had changed so radically in less than a year. I was now retired, divorced, a budding writer, and living in a totally different country; and I didn’t regret any of it apart from the divorce thing.
But that hadn’t been my decision.
My reflections were interrupted by my phone. Unlike when I was DCI Armstrong of Scotland Yard, a phone call nowadays was something to be eagerly awaited and enjoyed. No longer was I being woken in the middle of the night to be told of yet another brutal murder in the big city. No more interrupted dinners or hasty departures at all hours, leaving an increasingly disillusioned wife all alone until she could take it no more. In the end, I had even left the force in the hope of winning her back, but it had been too little, too late. I was a free man now, but it had been a heavy price to pay.
This call turned out to be from Virgilio and it was more business than pleasure. Virgilio Pisano had become my best friend over here in Tuscany. He was in many ways what I used to be: a police inspector in the murder squad – in his case in the historic city of Florence – but he was lucky enough still to be happily married to his lovely wife, Lina. It came as no surprise to find that although it was almost midnight he was still in the office.
‘ Ciao , Dan. You weren’t asleep, were you? Is it warm enough for you?’ We always spoke Italian together these days.
‘I thought I was going to melt this afternoon. I have a feeling I’m going to have to invest in aircon.’ It was very unusual for him to call me so late so I had a feeling it might be work-related. ‘What about you? How’s business?’
‘Booming as ever in the summer months. Why do people come all the way to Florence to strangle their wives or push somebody off the top of a tower? Anyway, look, the reason I’m calling is this: there’s been a murder.’
‘Now why doesn’t that come as a surprise? Who, where, and when? And, come to think of it, why me?’ I groaned theatrically. ‘Don’t you realise I’ve been retired now for over a year?’
Virgilio ignored the retirement remark. ‘The who is a guy called Rex Hunter. The where is the Acquarossa Country Club, which is only a short drive from where you are, and the when is some time yesterday evening. I’ll know more when I get the pathologist’s report.’
‘And the why me is because the guy had an English name?’ Although Virgilio spoke good English, he called on me from time to time to help out. Although the official line was that when he was dealing with English speakers he called me in as an interpreter, we both knew that I quite enjoyed keeping my investigative hand in, and he appreciated my help.
‘The victim was Australian and had been living here for seven years since buying the country club and golf course.’
‘He bought it? No shortage of money there, then, by the sound of it.’
‘Apparently he made a fortune in Australia before settling down over here. Although the staff at the country club are mostly local, his wife and family are over here and some of them speak little or no Italian, so I might need your h