eight times. But the key passage occurs after Koch refers to a dinner at the well-known society restaurant, Albergo dell’Orso, and I quote: “I know you said you couldn’t come north with me because of your family in Rome, but please reconsider. The house I hope to be moving into is a small palazzo, and would easily accommodate both you and your family. Of course, you and I would have a suite of rooms of our own.”
‘Well, gentlemen, we are men of the world, and I think that last sentence says it all.’
Isabella blushed and hung her head. ‘The man was a fantasist,’ she sighed to her lawyer. ‘I would never have gone with him, let alone shared his bed. What I said about my family was just a desperate excuse.’
Her lawyer patted her hand, and she glanced up into the visitors’ gallery, where Peter was smiling supportively, as if to say, ‘I know it’s not true – and I believe you.’
There followed a succession of prosecution witnesses. Hotel staff said they had seen Isabella socialising with high-ranking Nazis, and even knocking on a VIP Nazi’s bedroom door. Other witnesses said she had enjoyed Koch’s hospitality at Pensione Jaccarino, while at the same time his men were torturing partisans in the basement.
Isabella scrawled a note to her lawyer: That’s a complete lie, I never ate at Jaccarino. I thought I was being taken there to be interrogated.
Next on the stand was a telephonist who testified that Koch had invented a code name for Isabella – Ambrosia – the word he used to instruct the switchboard to put a call through to her house. Another witness said that Koch had befriended Isabella in order to persuade her to spy on Vicenzo Lucchese and ultimately to trap him.
As the evidence for the prosecution was laid out, Isabella became increasingly distressed, occasionally gasping audibly and muttering ‘That’s just not true!’ under her breath.
‘She looks genuinely shocked,’ whispered Antonio, scribbling on his pad. ‘Incredulous… you know?’
‘Do you believe her?’ Livia asked. ‘She’s an actress, after all.’
‘I’m not sure…’ he said, ‘I think I do… she was never known for her guile.’
When the court adjourned at midday, Orvieto invited Isabella and Peter to lunch.
‘It’s all going to be fine,’ said Peter, trying to encourage Isabella.
‘Really?’ said Isabella gloomily. ‘They’re twisting everything. Things that I know were completely innocent are being made to sound as if I was the worst and most immoral woman in Rome.’ She began to cry. ‘Surely, I must take the stand and defend myself.’
‘Now, now, my dear.’ Orvieto’s voice was like silk. ‘You mustn’t worry. The prosecution’s case is completely circumstantial, and their witnesses are mere minnows. Whereas our witnesses are much bigger fish – in fact very big fish indeed.’
Back in court after lunch, Orvieto stood up to his full height and bellowed amid the hubbub. ‘With the court’s permission, I wish to call my first witness,’ he paused dramatically, ‘one of the heroes of the Resistance – Signor Salvato Cappelli.’
Up strode Salvato into the witness area in front of the judges. He glanced briefly at Isabella, who smiled faintly.
‘What’s he like?’ whispered Livia to Antonio.
‘He’s about forty-five, dark hair, greying slightly, and dressed in a dark suit.’
‘I am the editor of a newspaper in Rome,’ Salvato began confidently. ‘During the war, I came to know Isabella as a good friend and a loyal supporter of the partisan movement.’ He went on to describe how he had tried to recruit her as a decoy to effect Koch’s murder, but that she had understandably found that morally difficult. He concluded with a strong defence of her. ‘It was common knowledge among those of us in the Resistance that Signorina Bellucci’s relationship with Pietro Koch was an elaborate fabrication on her part, done solely in order to save Count Lucchese from almost certain death. I know for a fact that she detested the man. She took huge risks every day to support the Resistance, including stealing a list of people who Koch intended to arrest, which she brought to me. Those men would be dead now if not for her. This whole trial is a farce.’
Isabella mouthed, ‘Thank you’, to Cappelli as he walked off the stand.
The next defence witness caused a murmur in the courtroom. A beautiful woman – tall, with dark hair, dressed immaculately in a black suit, took the stand.
‘Signora Luciana Torelli,’ began the lawyer, ‘you are the sister of Count Vicenzo Lucchese?’
‘I am,’ said Luciana, looking directly at