Page 3 of Murder at the Ponte Vecchio

I was quick to disabuse her. ‘It’s not like it is on the TV. I certainly don’t carry a gun and I don’t go around getting shot at – at least not so far. Most of my time’s spent waiting around, spying on people – I’m afraid marital infidelity is what keeps me busiest – and, increasingly, computer fraud.’ I nodded towards her wedding ring. ‘What about your husband? Does he have an exciting job?’

She smiled. ‘He’s a geologist, and I’m afraid I can’t get worked up about rocks the way he does. He’s currently working on something to do with diamonds but, sadly, he doesn’t bring any free samples home with him.’

I glanced around but there was no sign of Anna for themoment so I allowed myself a few moments of being a detective. ‘So, how do you know Anna, then?’

Now it was Amy’s time to look awkward. ‘We used to see each other at seminars and conferences, but it was only when we worked out that we had something other than history in common that we became friends.’

I caught her eye. ‘And that was…?’

That same expression of embarrassment and pain I had noted on Anna’s face appeared on her face now. ‘We were both going through breakups, followed by divorce. She rapidly became my shoulder to cry on and I became hers.’ She produced a wry smile. ‘And we did a lot of crying.’

I gave her a sympathetic smile in return as it all became clear to me. ‘Divorces are tough. You don’t need to tell me. I’ve been through one myself.’

At that moment Anna returned with a tray. On it was a plate containing a selection of tiny sandwiches, mini bruschetta, and slices of salami on squares of grilled polenta. There were also two glasses of fizz and a large glass of cold beer. She set the tray down, handed me the beer, and took a seat.

‘Here, Dan, I thought you might be desperate for something cold.’

I blew her a kiss. ‘You know me so well.’ I took a cool, refreshing mouthful and gave a happy sigh – partly fuelled by the drink, but more so by the explanation Amy had just given me. ‘Ah, wonderful, I needed that. Now I can relax.’

We sat and chatted over our selection of snacks and drinks until, all too soon, I was summoned by the publishers once again to say goodbye to the important guests. I shook hands with a variety of people whose names I felt sure I would never remember, until it was the turn of the mayor. To my surprise, instead of shaking my hand, he took me by the arm and led me out of thedoor and into the street. I went with him, intrigued to see where this might be heading. Was he maybe going to warn me off the publishers? I certainly hoped not as I had already signed and sealed the deal with them. The sun had set and it was almost dark, but the street was still busy. When the mayor was sure that we weren’t being overheard, he started to speak and I realised that what he had to say had nothing to do with books.

‘I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to put two and two together, but I realise now that you’re the private investigator, aren’t you?’

‘That’s what pays the bills. I used to be in the police in London and setting up as a PI seemed like a good idea.’

‘A very good idea, I’m sure, and you have an excellent reputation. Your name was mentioned to me recently by my good friend, thequestore. I gather you’ve helped out our local police on a few occasions.’

‘I sometimes lend a hand if there are English speakers involved.’ I found myself wondering just where he was going with this. Thequestorewas roughly equivalent to a chief constable or the police commissioner in the UK, and somebody who wielded a lot of power. I had heard of him but had never met him. What, I wondered, had prompted such an august person to bring up my name?

A noisy group of tourists came walking past and the mayor waited until they were out of earshot before continuing. ‘We can’t talk here. I wonder if you could spare me a few minutes of your time early next week, maybe Monday or Tuesday. I’d like to ask your advice about something confidential. Could you do that?’

‘Yes, of course, I’d be pleased to help in any way. When would suit you?’

‘I’ll have to check with my secretary, but maybe we could have lunch together. Would that be all right?’

I agreed immediately, fascinated at the thought of what hemight want to tell me, and we exchanged phone numbers before shaking hands. He congratulated me and wished me well with my book and I was quick to offer my good wishes for his writing in return. He headed off in the direction of the Ponte Vecchio and I went back into the function room, which was emptying rapidly.

My intention was to return to where Anna and Amy were sitting, but I found myself waylaid when an insistent hand caught my arm and I turned to see a wiry old man, quite possibly in his eighties, standing at my side. He had an unkempt mass of white hair and a bushy moustache, which gave him a slightly Einstein-like appearance, and the expression on his face was dead serious. I wondered what might be troubling this stranger so I gave him a welcoming smile.

‘Good evening, have you been here for the book launch?’

He didn’t respond to my smile. ‘I didn’t come for that, Signor Armstrong. I came because I’m interested in speaking to you in your professional capacity.’

I took my time before replying, my brain churning. What should have been an evening dedicated to my murder mysteries was throwing up mysteries of its own. First the mayor and his mysterious invitation to dine with him, and now this old man. I answered cautiously.

‘How can I help you, Signor…?’

‘Berg, David Berg. I have a jewellery shop on the Ponte Vecchio.’ His Italian was faultless but I felt I could detect an unusual accent lurking there although I couldn’t pinpoint it. His name sounded Germanic and I wondered if he was maybe from the German-speaking part of Italy, far to the north, near the border with Austria. As I studied him, I was struck by his hard face and remarkably cold eyes. Despite my initial impression of him, this was no charming old duffer. He might be old, but helooked as sharp as a tack and as tough as nails, and he certainly didn’t radiate bonhomie.

I answered politely. ‘And do you have a problem?’

He nodded again. ‘I do indeed have a problem and I need the help of a professional such as yourself.’

‘Is it a business problem or a personal problem?’

He paused before replying. ‘A bit of both.’ He stopped and waited as a pair of guests walked out past us and stopped to shake me by the hand and wish me well. Once they had left, he continued. ‘We obviously can’t speak here.’ I suppressed a smile as he repeated almost the same words used by the mayor. ‘It would be best if you come to my shop so I can outline the situation to you. The shop closes at seven-thirty in the evening so you should come at that time or just after, so I can talk freely.’ Those hard eyes caught mine for a moment. This was a man who was used to getting his own way. ‘Don’t worry, I’m prepared to pay for your services. Bring your terms and conditions with you.’

I agreed and we arranged that I would come to his shop on Monday evening. We shook hands and I made my way back across the room to where Anna was still sitting. She looked up as I approached. ‘You took your time. Everything all right? I saw you disappear out of the door with the mayor and I wondered if he was about to offer you the keys of the city.’

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