Page 2 of Murder at the Ponte Vecchio

‘How does a cup of tea sound?’

Oscar followed me into the kitchen, where his nose immediately pointed at the cupboard where his biscuits lived.

Anna’s voice followed me. ‘Yes, please, but don’t make it too strong.’

After years of the Scotland Yard canteen, I’d grown used to tea strong enough to take the enamel off your teeth, but since meeting Anna, I’d had to change my ways. I made a mug of weak tea for her and a mug of slightly stronger tea for me, gave Oscar one of his bone-shaped biscuits and headed back into the living room. As I did so, I remembered the tigers.

‘As I was walking here I met somebody who knows you. Does the name Dr Amy Mackintosh mean anything to you?’

Anna looked up from her ironing and her expression was hard to read. On the one hand, there was surprise and pleasure, but on the other was something else, and I struggled to identify it. As somebody who had spent his working life trying to analyse people’s reactions, this was a tricky one. It took me a few moments before I thought I’d managed to narrow it down to a mixture of embarrassment and pain. Why, I wondered, might that be?

I listened with interest as Anna responded. ‘Amy? Well, well, well, I’ve known her for years. She teaches in Edinburgh. What’s she doing in Florence?’

I told her about the tiger costumes and Anna’s expression lightened – a little, but there was still that discomfort. My curiosity increased, but I thought it best to let Anna tell me all about it in due course – rather than now when she was already a bit stressed. I was pleased to see her reach for her phone so,whatever it was that was troubling her, it hadn’t stopped her from speaking to the Scot.

‘Give me her number and I’ll give her a call. Shall I ask her to come tonight?’

‘If it’s okay with you, it’s okay with me so go ahead and invite her. By all means.’ She made the call and a five-minute conversation ensued, during which I was relieved to hear her sounding fairly normal and not strained. I was also pleased to hear her suggest that the tiger costume might not be quite what was wanted for tonight’s event. I sat back on the sofa and did my best to stop wondering what might have been behind Anna’s unexpected reaction at hearing Amy’s name. I took refuge in fiction and, as so often, I let my imagination take over and I was already envisaging a tiger-clad academic floating face down in a fountain and another escaping from the police down the autostrada at ninety miles an hour when Anna’s call ended and she came over to sit beside me, rousing me from my musings.

‘Right, she’s coming.’ That strange, uncertain look was still on her face, but I saw her make an effort and return to the more pressing matter of what I was going to be doing this evening. ‘Now, do you want to go over your speech one more time?’

I didn’t really, but it probably made sense to do as she said so I launched into it while she sat back and nodded approvingly. Her approval was probably less for my delivery than for the content, most of which she had been responsible for writing. Although I’ve done a fair bit of public speaking in my time, I’ve never been terribly keen on it – especially in a foreign language. I got to the end of it and looked over at her.

‘Will that do? It doesn’t come across as too boastful, does it? It’s only a whodunnit, after all, not an acceptance speech for a Nobel prize.’

She reached over and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. ‘It’ll be fine, Dan. I’m sure they’ll love it.’

I hoped she was right, but it was too late now to pull out of it. Instead, I found myself wondering yet again why she had reacted the way she had. It promised to be an interesting evening in more ways than one.

2

FRIDAY EVENING

I’m not sure whether they loved it or not, but my little performance seemed to go down all right, and I got a round of applause at the end of it. As I delivered my speech, I looked around the room and was pleasantly surprised to see so many people. Among the guests I spotted some of my closest friends here in Italy, notably Commissario Virgilio Pisano of the Florence murder squad and his right-hand man, Inspector Marco Innocenti. Along with them was Virgilio’s wife, Lina, who now worked for me as my PA, receptionist, secretary, and occasional dog walker. Beyond them was a sea of faces of other people, most of whom I didn’t recognise, although the smartly dressed gentleman sitting with the representatives of the publishing house in the middle of the front row looked familiar. It took me a while to work out that this was none other than thesindaco, Mr Mayor himself. How they had managed to get him to come to this very minor event was beyond me.

As soon as my speech ended, the managing director of the publishing company came up to congratulate me and to introduce me to the mayor. Like so many people in authority thesedays, the mayor was younger than me, probably by ten years or so, and he was a charming and affable character. It quickly emerged that he was also a writer – in his case of historical novels set here in the city – and his books were published by the same company. No doubt this explained his appearance here tonight and the presence of a couple of newspaper photographers, for whom the three of us posed with cheesy smiles on our faces – or at least on mine.

While waiters circulated with glasses of spumante and trays of nibbles, I spent the next hour or more answering questions from people, signing copies of my book, and generally doing my best to promote the new publication. It was almost eight before I managed to get back to Anna, who had found a table in a corner where she and Amy Mackintosh were sitting. I hadn’t been present when Amy had arrived and I was relieved to see them sitting together now and chatting reassuringly normally, with Oscar sprawled at their feet. He looked up as he saw me appear, gave a lazy wag of the tail, and subsided into somnolence once more. Anna pushed out a chair for me and leant over to give me a kiss when I sat down.

‘I told you it would all go well, didn’t I?’ She sounded triumphant – and certainly much more relaxed than earlier. ‘Have you had a drink? You look as if you could do with one.’

I gave her a smile. ‘I thought it best to stay off the booze, at least until I’d done my duty. I’ve hardly had a chance to speak to Virgilio or Marco or any of the others I invited. It’s maybe just as well Tricia couldn’t come. I doubt if I would have been able to spend more than a few minutes with her.’ My daughter lived and worked in the UK and although she had indicated that she would have been keen to come to the event, her work as a solicitor had prevented her from getting away.

‘What about food? Have you eaten?’ Anna was sounding moreconcerned. No sooner had she spoken than there was a movement at our feet and Oscar’s face appeared by my right knee, doing his unsuccessful best to look as if he was in the latter stages of starvation. When it comes to food, his comprehension skills are unparalleled – in English or in Italian.

I shook my head and Anna jumped to her feet. ‘Leave it to me.’

After she had disappeared into the slowly diminishing crowd, as people started to drift away, I looked across at Dr Mackintosh and saw her smile.

‘I had no idea Anna had found herself a murder-mystery writer. How exciting!’

I smiled back. ‘When I can find the time. I have a pretty full-on job, so the only time I can write is in the evenings if I’m lucky.’

‘What do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?’

‘I have a private investigation agency here in Florence. I used to be in the Metropolitan Police murder squad until I retired a few years ago, so it seemed like a sensible new venture.’

‘How exciting. I’ve never met a private eye before. What sort of thing do you do? Is it dangerous?’

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