Page 32 of Murder on an Italian Island
At that moment, the waiter returned with a huge wooden platter loaded with meat, accompanied by a pile of little roast potatoes. Alongside this was a dish of fresh raw artichoke hearts in an olive oil and lemon-juice dressing. A heavy, black head landed on my thigh as Oscar’s nose strained upwards towards what was a most appealing aroma. I glanced across at Virgilio and grinned.
‘I’m very glad I resisted the temptation to order a separate steak for Oscar. There’s enough meat here to feed half a dozen people.’
And there was. There were no fewer than four grilled kebabs packed with pieces of steak interspersed with chunks of red pepper, courgette and aubergine, a grilled chicken breast that looked as if it had come from a massive beast the size of an ostrich, a dozen ribs and a curled-up, spiral Tuscan sausage the size of a side plate. The mountain of roast potatoes alone would have fed a large family, and the artichoke salad looked most inviting.
We helped ourselves to the food and to the delight of my four-legged friend, I dismembered one of the kebabs and handed him down a series of succulent pieces of steak, followed by a chunk of the chicken breast that was the size of a pack of cards. There was disbelief in his eyes as the tasty titbits kept on coming but, although I’m normally against feeding him from the table, he deserved every single bit of the feast. It’s not every day your dog saves your partner’s life. As Anna said, he’s a very special dog.
We didn’t do a lot of talking for about a quarter of an hour, and it was only when our appetites – not Oscar’s, of course – began to wane that the conversation picked up again and Virgilio provided the answer to my original question.
‘I’ve been thinking about this case a lot and I’m coming around to the conclusion that the object of the killer’s intentions has to have been Aldo rather than Ignazio. I reckon the first death was a mistake, although Ignazio’s background made us immediately assume that he’d been deliberately murdered. I think we’re looking at a single killer and my money’s on the woman, Teresa Franceschini, either out of greed or frustrated affection. Is that what you think?’
I swallowed a final piece of kebab and washed it down with a mouthful of wine before replying. ‘You could well be right. There’s definitely something hard and calculating about her, although I still can’t pin down a viable motive for murder, unless it’s to get her hands on the Etruscan artefacts. I must confess that I’m not totally giving up on the idea of two different killers, but it’s definitely looking more likely the work of one person. I wonder how Piero Fontana got on with his interviews.’
At that moment, Virgilio’s phone started ringing and I was immediately on full alert when I heard him greet the caller. ‘Ciao, Piero, anything new?’
The inspector spoke to Virgilio for almost five minutes and all I could hear were occasional grunts or one-word comments from Virgilio before the call ended and he dropped his phone back onto the table.
‘Several interesting developments. The Japanese police have been amazingly efficient and have already replied to the query about Tatsuo Tanaka. The bad news from our point of view is that although the mother of Laura Bracco, Ignazio Graziani’s second victim, was born in Nagoya, she and her family moved back to Tokyo when she was only three months old. The father was a serving army officer and he was subsequently transferred to the Japanese embassy in Rome as Defence Attaché when the girl was only five and she grew up in Italy. Tanaka has lived all his life in Nagoya and he gets a clean bill of health – his father’s a judge, no less – so it looks like that’s a dead end.’
‘You saidseveralinteresting developments. What else did he say? Any joy with the couple from Lucca and their antique shop?’
‘Much more promising. When Piero’s people searched their room at the hotel, they found nothing, but when they opened the boot of the car, they found a box containing two bronze statuettes wrapped in tissue paper. Signor Giardino was unable to provide an invoice for these items and was very evasive about how he’d come by them. Photos of them were sent to the National Archaeological Museum in Naples and they have been positively identified as of Etruscan origin and the couple have been arrested. They’re at the station right now being interviewed, and the TPC have been notified and are sending two officers. No prizes for guessing who they’ll be.’
‘That’s very interesting. Could it be that Giardino and his wife are the elusive Tuscan handlers? If so, it should be possible to get them to identify the source not only of these two bronze statuettes but also of the larger, more valuable objects that have emerged from the island. I’m not a betting man, but I would happily stake a hundred euros on Aldo Graziani’s name popping up.’
Virgilio took a final piece of meat from his plate, handed the remaining piece of sausage to Oscar and set his fork back down. ‘That’s enough for me. No more meat for a week – no, make that a month. And, yes, I’m also quietly confident that Giardino will supply the missing link to Aldo.’ He took a sip of wine. ‘But I fail to see what interest they could have had in murdering him. Surely if Aldo was regularly producing high-value artefacts, it was in their interests to keep him sweet and alive.’
‘I suppose they might have decided to do away with him and try to take over his operation for themselves.’
Virgilio’s phone started ringing again. This time, it was a relatively short call and there was a broad smile on his face when it finished. ‘That was Piero again. Forensics have found a toothbrush at Aldo’s villa. DNA testing proves that it’s been used by Teresa Franceschini. Maybe it was a crime of passion after all. She’s being taken to the station as we speak.’ He picked up his glass and clinked it against mine. ‘Cheers, Dan, I think we might be nearing a conclusion.’
20
WEDNESDAY LATE AFTERNOON
I drove back over to see Anna at five. I parked in the shade and left Oscar in the van with the windows open while I went into the hospital. To my delight, she was sitting up in bed, eating what looked like crème caramel. There was even a bit more colour in her cheeks and my spirits soared. My instincts were to go across to the bed and hug her tightly, but her damaged arm and surgical dressings to her head and face restricted me to just sitting down beside her and catching hold of her good hand in both of mine.
‘Ciao,carissima, you’re looking better.’
She smiled. ‘And so are you. Did you take my advice and have something to eat and drink?’
Now it was my turn to smile. ‘Yes, very definitely – and Oscar got a bellyful of meat. Have the doctors said anything about when you can come home?’
‘They want to keep me in overnight to be sure that there are no after-effects but, hopefully, some time tomorrow morning, I should be discharged. I’ll need to keep my left arm in a sling for a few days, but they tell me I should be able to use it normally again in less than a week. How’s the investigation going?’
I gave her a quick summary of the latest developments and she looked mildly surprised. ‘So do you think it was Teresa who pushed me down that mine? I wouldn’t have thought she would have had the strength.’
To be honest, I’d been harbouring the same doubts, but I just gave her a few platitudes about the police knowing best and left it at that for now. It then emerged that she had been starting to get a bit more clarity about the events of this morning. She told me she could remember being in the field, seeing the doors of the shed open and going across to take a look inside. Although she had no recollection of the blow to the head or her fall, she did come up with a fascinating snippet of information.
‘It may mean nothing, but I’m sure there was a flash of yellow, bright yellow, as I peered in through the doors. I’ve no idea what it was – it certainly wasn’t the sun – but I’m quite sure about it. It’s just about the last memory I have.’
I found myself leaning forward towards her. ‘You’re saying you saw something yellow. What sort of something?’
She snorted with frustration. ‘I just can’t remember. If I had to guess, I would say it was probably clothing, but I may be completely wrong. Hopefully, as my brain begins to clear and the memories start coming back, I might have a better idea.’
This was potentially very interesting, and I knew I needed to make an urgent call to the inspector. He was currently interviewing Teresa Franceschini and when I had seen her first thing this morning, she had been wearing a bright-yellow top. Was this the proof we needed that she had callously pushed Anna into the mine and left her to die?
I was allowed only ten minutes with Anna this time, so I sat with her and we chatted about all sorts, including the debt of gratitude she owed to Oscar and the meaty reward he had already received. Finally, at exactly five-fifteen, a nurse appeared at the door and indicated that my time was up. I gave Anna a gentle kiss and left the room.
