The Art of Killing Well

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Book: Read The Art of Killing Well for Free Online
Authors: Marco Malvaldi, Howard Curtis
caught his breath, he opened his mouth and said in a solemn voice, “I am extremely sorry to have to inform you that we have not gathered here to eat.”
    Oh, no!
    â€œDottore Bertini,” the baron said, while the bearded man nodded, confirming even to the least attentive that he was indeed the aforementioned Dottore Bertini, “has an extremely regrettablepiece of information to share with you. I ask you to listen to him in complete silence.”
    It was an unnecessary request. There was such tension in the room by now that not a breath could be heard. They all stood there, apart from the dowager baroness (who was paralytic) and Signorina Ugolina Bonaiuti Ferro (who did not understand a damned thing about what was going on around her), and waited.
    In the prescribed silence, a chasm opened in Dottore Bertini’s beard and a voice much less cavernous than expected, indeed almost like that of a sprite, said, “Thank you, Barone. I must ask you all to be patient for a moment. I have just made a preliminary examination of the body of Teodoro Banti, as a result of which I find myself unable to issue a death certificate.”
    He looked dead enough to me, Lapo would have liked to have said, but even he realised that now might not be the best time to make jokes.
    â€œIn short, ladies and gentlemen,” the sprite said from the depths of the woods, “I will need to perform a full autopsy. But even as things stand, I am almost convinced that poor Banti’s death was not due to natural causes. To be quite honest …”
    Here he turned to the baron in evident embarrassment. Without looking at anybody, the baron completed the sentence for him with a kind of furious determination: “To be quite honest, the doctor maintains that Teodoro was poisoned.”
    Consternation (to say the least).
    As the guests remained silent, the doctor continued, “As some of you know, for years now I have been responsible for the healthof those living in the castle, at the baron’s express request. Consequently, I am familiar with the medical history of every single member of the servant body from birth. Teodoro Banti is no exception.”
    Having said this, the doctor tilted his head forward onto his chest and seemed to fall asleep, using his beard as a pillow.
    After a few moments, Gaddo ventured to open his mouth. “So …”
    â€œThat is why,” the doctor said, as if he had been waiting for that signal to resume speaking, “I was very surprised when Signor Ciceri here present told me that Banti seemed to have died as the result of a heart attack. Because, you see, Banti never in his life manifested any symptoms of heart disease.”
    This said, he again fell asleep on his beard.
    Hearing his judgement called into question, Ciceri made an attempt to speak up. “I hazarded that guess after seeing how flushed his face was …”
    The doctor woke again. “When I arrived, there was, indeed, intense flushing on the face and neck of the corpse. But not the flushing typical of a heart attack. It was of the pruriginous kind, caused by phlogosis, not by congestion, as witnessed by the scratches on the throat and neck. The poor fellow must have been trying to relieve the dryness of his skin by scratching himself. In addition, the dead man’s pupils were dilated in a way that immediately struck me as non-physiological. Last but not least, the position of the body—”
    â€œAre all these grisly details really necessary?” asked thedowager baroness sternly, breaking in unexpectedly on the doctor’s speech.
    â€œThese grisly details, as you call them, Baronessa, are the evidence I am putting forward to explain to your noble persons why I cannot issue a death certificate and must, in fact, arrange for the judicial authorities to be notified of what has happened.”
    â€œWhat?” Gaddo said loudly. “Are you intending to bring the police in on

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