Page 28 of Murder at the Ponte Vecchio

Virgilio nodded. ‘I have and it’s him, I’m sure of it.’ He looked across at his boss. ‘I imagine you’re familiar with the circumstances of the murders of the two Dutchmen, sir, but to my mind, this unmistakably links them together. Both Signor Armstrong and I felt that it was too much of a coincidence for the two murders not to be connected, but with these photos, we can now be almost certain that they were.’

Livornese studied the photos carefully. ‘Very interesting. I hope very much that you catch this man but, above all, I hope you manage to catch the traitor in our midst.’

There was a serious expression on Virgilio’s face when he responded. ‘You can rely on me, sir. As far as the deaths of the two Dutchmen are concerned, now that we’ve established what looks like a definite link between Berg and Jacobs, it seems probable that both murders were committed by somebody trying to get hold of Berg’s diamonds, Jacobs’s three hundred thousand euros in payment, or David Berg’s cache of jewellery – or all three. This was either the work of a professional jewel thief or it might be the work of a member of the Berg family. They’re all involved with the jewel trade and one of the family, in particular, has no alibi for the times of either murder.’

I nodded in agreement and Virgilio glanced across at me. ‘When we get back to Florence, the first thing I’m going to do is to sit down and have a serious talk to Luuc Berg about exactly where he was and what he was doing on those two occasions.’ An afterthought came to him. ‘And while I’m there, I intend to check the three Dutch-registered cars for signs of damage consistent with what happened to Inspector Innocenti, just in case they tried to eliminate him. Now that we’ve established a link between the deaths of David Berg and Axel Jacobs, both Dutch jewellers, this brings the family into play once again.’

Further conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a massive wooden board laden with at least half a dozen types of grilled fish and seafood, ranging from tuna steaks and squid rings to prawns on wooden skewers. Another waiter appeared and placed a big bowl of mixed salad alongside the fish and, just in case we were still feeling hungry, a large dish with a mountain of fries on it. I distinctly heard a frustrated grunt from under the table as Oscar did his best to indicate that he was at imminent risk of dying of hunger. I kept my resolve but thequestorehad no such scruples, and, in the course of the next twenty minutes or so, Oscar found himself on the receiving end of several prawns, a couple of squid rings, a succulent piece of tuna and even more breadsticks. Tonight’s walk was going to have to be very, very long.

It was an excellent meal, but I was sure we all came away feeling frustrated. Yes, the CCTV evidence from Jacobs’s hotel had maybe provided a bit of good news as far as the Berg/Jacobs case was concerned, but the problem of identifying and catching the police officer responsible for deleting the asylum seeker files and maybe murdering the two men at the station remained a real problem, complicated by the fact that everything had to be done in the strictest secrecy. Thequestorepromised that he would dohis best to keep his eye on Verdi, thevice questore, while Virgilio offered to attempt some sort of surveillance of Superintendent Grande. Inspector Faldo was the easiest of the three to keep tabs on now that he’d been brought in to fill Marco’s shoes. Whether any of this would result in a breakthrough, however, remained highly questionable.

17

WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON

When Virgilio dropped me back at the office, I tried phoning Zebra again, but without success, so I decided to drive over there to see her. If all went well, while I was there, I would also be able to find out the surname of handsome Tiberio, boyfriend of the mayor’s daughter.

When I got to the theatre, there were very few cars or scooters to be seen and I hoped Zebra hadn’t gone off somewhere. The front door was locked, but the side door I had urged her to keep locked at all times was predictably open. Oscar had already worked out that he was on the territory of his new best friend and he trotted in, tail wagging. I followed him into the auditorium but found nobody. The stage was also empty except for a load of timber and a carpenter’s workbench but, again, there was nobody about. I checked the other rooms one by one until I finally reached the room we had designated as the one where anything valuable had to be kept. It came as no surprise to me to see the door half-open. The surprise was what awaited me inside.

Oscar disappeared into the room and I pushed the door fully open to reveal Zebra sitting by the table with my very happy dogtrying to climb onto her lap – but she didn’t look anything like as happy as he did. In fact, she was crying, and from her red eyes, it was clear she’d been crying for quite some time. I hurried across to her.

‘Zebra, what’s the matter? Has something happened? Oscar, leave the lady alone.’

She looked up and wiped the back of her hand across her tear-stained face. Without a word, she pointed to her phone, lying on the table. I went over and tapped the screen to find myself looking at a photo of a man with his hand in the pocket of one of the coats hanging on a row of hooks. I recognised the room as the actors’ common room where we’d positioned the spy camera, and there could be no doubt about it: the thief was none other than Paolo with the scruffy overalls, the actor who couldn’t be bothered to learn his lines.

I pulled up a chair and sat down alongside her. By this time, Oscar had realised that she was unhappy and had also positioned himself beside her, placing a big, black paw on her lap in a show of canine solidarity. I gave her another minute or so to collect herself before I spoke.

‘That’s Paolo in the photo, isn’t it?’ She nodded mutely and I went on. ‘Have you spoken to him yet?’

She nodded again, reached for her tissue, and blew her nose before speaking. ‘Yes, he came in shortly after I spoke to your secretary on the phone. I was still furious, then I really let rip at him.’

‘And what was his reaction?’

‘He burst into tears. He cried like a baby and gradually told me all about it. He confessed that he’s developed a serious drug habit and it’s taking every cent that he has. He told me how terribly sorry he was – and I believed him – but he said he couldn’t help himself.’ She wiped her eyes again and looked up atme. ‘I know a thing or two about drugs and I’m surprised I didn’t realise sooner that he had a habit. Of course that’s the reason he keeps forgetting his lines. I know how addiction can change a person, but the fact is that I can’t keep a thief in the company and I made that clear to him. I gave him the name of somebody who helped me to quit my habit, and I’ve told him to give her a call. He went off in tears, and I’ve been crying ever since.’

I tried to be as supportive as possible and to keep it light. ‘My grandmother always used to say that the answer to all of life’s problems is a good cup of tea. Why don’t I go and make you one? In fact, I’ll make some for both of us.’

She nodded and even managed to produce a hint of a smile. I left Oscar with her to add his support and by the time I came back with two cups of tea, the tears had stopped, although she was clearly still deeply troubled. I handed her a cup and decided to address the elephant in the room.

‘What happens about the play? You’ll have to find a last-minute replacement, won’t you?’

‘We’ll have to cancel. There are a couple of girls who could help out, but we need a man and I don’t have one. There’s no alternative…’ Her voice tailed off dejectedly. ‘And it was going to be the first ever performance ofUltimatum. To make matters worse, this will mean giving back the money we’ve received for advance tickets and I’ve already had to spend quite a lot of it.’

‘Surely there must be somebody who can step in.’

She shook her head. ‘I’ve been sitting here phoning all the actors I know, but none of them can make it at such short notice…’ Her voice tailed off and she suddenly looked up at me. ‘Wait a minute, didn’t you say you used to do a bit of acting?’

Even Oscar raised his head at that and shot me a curious glance. I was quick to start making my excuses. ‘That was forty years ago, Zebra. Besides, all the other actors are half my age.’

‘Ah, but I wrote that part, the part of Cesare the mechanic, for a middle-aged man. You’d be perfect for it.’ She reached over and clasped my hand in hers. ‘You’ve already helped me so much, Dan, but if you do this for me, I’ll love you forever.’

‘But it’s all in Italian, and I’m English.’

‘But you speak such lovely Italian; you’ll be fine.’

There’s an Italian word for what she was doing –insaponare. The literal translation is to soap somebody up, and it means that she was doing her best to charm me into accepting the part by plying me with compliments. I had another couple of attempts at explaining why I was a poor substitute before I realised that she really had a very simple choice. Either she cast an Englishman who hadn’t stepped onto a stage for over forty years, or she would have to cancel the whole thing, which, of course, had been her brainchild from its creation to its first ever performance. I finally let her show me what the part entailed and I had to admit that there weren’t that many lines for me to learn. Luckily for me, Cesare the mechanic was a man of very few words. Grudgingly, I agreed to take a look at the script tonight and present myself for a run-through with her next morning and a final dress rehearsal on Friday afternoon.

‘All right, just to help out, I’ll do my best, but if I end up tongue-tied and the whole thing grinds to a halt, you have been warned.’

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