Death in Springtime Read Online Free PDF Page B

crossed the last rise but they could hear the sheepbells on the clear air. The shepherd was on his feet, jacket slung over his shoulder, gazing skywards, his cap pulled low to shade his eyes. He was watching the circling helicopters.
    'What are they looking for?' he asked them without any preliminary greeting.
    'We thought you might tell us.'
    He told them nothing. The three men stood together for some time while the long-faced sheep ambled around them, sometimes coming close to examine them but scuttering away at the slightest of their movements, sending a ripple of bells through the whole flock.
    The Captain had no illusions about being able to guess what Demontis knew or didn't know. The old shepherd's face was lined and brown. His deep-set eyes roved slowly over his flock, over them, over his flock again, with no change in his expression. He might have been watching over all of them for a century. There was no infecting him with their urgency. The newpaper sticking out of his jacket pocket carried last Sunday's date.
    'If you hear anything . . .'
    If he heard anything he would not dream of doing anything about it but would go on gazing indifferently over the heads of his sheep. They left him looking up at the sky again. He didn't turn his head to look after them and he was so still that even at a short distance they could no longer distinguish him from his surroundings.
    When they got back to the farmyard the Substitute had vanished. They could hear his rapid speech and then the fat shepherdess's delighted scream of laughter. They appeared in the doorway of the house, the woman red in the face and still chuckling. The Substitute said goodbye to her and ran lightly to the jeep carrying a polythene bag.
    'Ricotta,' he explained, opening the bag for them to inspect the fluffy white mound with the whey still running out of the cheese paper.
    'The lady informs me,' said the Substitute as they drove away and the Captain reported the husband's silence, 'that his brother is a bad lot, the bane of her life, that she would never have married Salvatore—who, I should tell you, is a saint, a veritable saint, when considered on his own—if she had known she'd be stuck with the terrible Antonio as well. Among his worst crimes are not being married, not turning up at milking times and stealing food.'
    'I know,' the Brigadier said, 'Especially as he bets. He's not above stealing a few of her mature cheeses and selling them. They're worth quite a bit of money.'
    'Yes . . . but recently he's been stealing other things from the house, too . . .'
    'He has?' The Captain looked up.
    'Yes. I thought you might be interested.'
    'I am. We'd better stay away from here for the moment.'
    'You think so?'
    'If he turns out to be a feeder for the kidnappers,' explained the Captain, 'he'd be too easy to replace if we showed any interest in him.'
    'And if we leave him alone he'll lead us somewhere.'
    'Not far, I'm afraid. Feeders are small fry, though they're well paid if the ransom's high. There will be at least two of them, but even if they know each other they won't know anybody else except the one man who took them on and will eventually pay them. Meantime they're given money to buy food.'
    'But the person they pass the food to . . .'
    'Will be one of those guarding the victim, but they may never meet. The food is often left in a given place and collected later. The only man who knows everyone concerned is the base-man.'
    'In that case we surely are talking about professionals, despite your doubts earlier.'
    'I still have doubts.' The Captain frowned. 'I still don't like that letter and I don't like the timing. It's only four months since I got one of the big boys from the Sardinian gang that operates here.'
    'The Donati kidnapping. Yes, I remember. He was shot getting away with the ransom.'
    'And two others got away by the skin of their teeth. I'd be surprised to hear they were still in the country, and if they are they should be lying low.'
    The