The Art of Killing Well Read Online Free PDF

that what attracted her to the cellar was not so much the peace and quiet as the bottles of absinthe that Signorino Gaddo had brought from Paris six months earlier, extolling it as the liquor of the poets, the drink of perdition, only to then leave the bottles untouched in the cellar after taking a sip and deciding that the French poets were as depraved in their palates as in everything else. The poor lady had in fact got into the habit of serving herself a decent glass of the stuff in the course of her morning walks, finding it a great help in putting up with the dowager baroness.
    â€œExcept that this morning the door was closed, and I couldn’t open it. So I—”
    â€œSo you, instead of walking past, took the opportunity to look through the keyhole to see if by any chance Teodoro was in his underwear on the other side of the door,” said Lapo, who had joined the company in the meantime: the only person dressed in evening clothes in the middle of all these people in their dressing gowns, and obviously blind drunk. “Isn’t that right, you old sow?”
    â€œLapo,” the baron said through clenched jaws, “please go to your room.”
    â€œWhy? I get the impression everyone is having a great time here.”
    In the silence that followed, Signorina Barbarici began weeping softly.
    â€œLapo, you’re drunk,” Gaddo tried to say.
    â€œOh, well, I’m not the only one. Just smell this Peeping Tom here. She stinks of alchermes. In my opinion—”
    â€œLAPO!”
    â€œAlright, alright, general. I’ll be good. I only want to know what’s going on.”
    Ignoring him, Signorina Barbarici resumed through her tears, “I looked and saw something, and I couldn’t tell [sob], I couldn’t tell what it was. Then I realised it was a hand. But it was white [sob], as white as … a corpse …”
    At this point, the signorina broke down completely.
    â€œI see,” the baron said solemnly. Then he stepped away from the whimpering woman and addressed his guests. “I do beg your pardon for this unfortunate mishap. I think it’s now clear what happened. The butler must have fallen asleep in the cellar, with the bolt drawn, and did not notice that day had dawned. Signorina Barbarici saw a hand dangling, and being of a nervous and impressionable nature concluded that she had seen a corpse.”
    â€œDo you really think so?” asked Signor Ciceri, who looked even fatter in his cotton dressing gown and nightshirt.
    â€œIt wouldn’t be the first time he’s done something like this, unfortunately,” the baron said, looking at the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
    â€œForgive me, father,” Gaddo said, “but I fear Signor Ciceri meant something else.”
    â€œI thank you, Signorino Gaddo. Barone, I’m afraid that before opening that door we have to send the ladies away and steel ourselves for a tragic spectacle. I’m a heavy sleeper, and if thesignorina’s scream woke even me, lying upstairs …”
    The baron seemed to think this over for a few moments, even though there was not really much to think about.
    He, too, had been startled from his sleep by the poor woman’s bellowing, after a horrible night filled with palpitations and frightful stomach pains. Signorina Barbarici’s scream had been positively bloodcurdling, and had awakened the whole castle. Whoever the hand behind that door belonged to, the poor fellow was either dead or deaf. And as the baron well knew, Teodoro had excellent hearing.
    In the silence, Signor Ciceri resumed, “Is this door the only way to gain access to the room?”
    The baron and Gaddo said yes simultaneously. Gaddo looked at his father, who said quietly, “You’re right. Gentlemen, I think the best thing we can do is open this blasted door.”

    Obviously, by “open” the baron meant “have opened by someone