The video resumed, showing Giancarlo filling the car with petrol then walking across the forecourt to pay.
‘If you… ahem…scusi…if you look here, in the far corner of the forecourt,’ Dario said, pausing the tape again, ‘there’s the stationary Cupra, registration DN 228KT, which is registered to a Signor Angelo Colombo. I can confirm that Signor Colombo appears on our database as a person of interest. My question is, sir, why was he following Signor Moretti to the airport on the night in question?’
The two men sat for several moments, looking at one another in silence.
‘Three months, sir. Give me three months. If I don’t find any hard evidence, I promise I’ll let it rest.’
Dario held his breath.
‘Three months. Not a day more.’
And so the case into ‘the accident’ was reopened.
‘You cooked, I’ll clear,’ said Lucy, collecting the dishes.
Elena pulled another bottle of wine from the rack. ‘I know we shouldn’t, but we have much to celebrate,’ she said, pouring two glasses. ‘Alfonso and the team are so excited about Signor Conti’s visit next month.
‘What about you, Elena? Are you excited?’
Elena frowned. ‘Of course. Why do you ask?’
After a moment of silence, Elena continued, ‘Just think, some of Mamma Moretti’s recipes will be in print! And Valentina told me today that there’s now going to be a feature on the history of the factory in the book too. With photos. Such a lovely tribute to the two of them. She cooked like no one else I know. Her whole day would revolve aroundil pranzo,the lunch. She’d get up at five every morning to buy fresh produce from the market. She never ever followed recipes. She made them up, cookedherway. She showed her love for the family through the dishes she put on the table…’
Lucy was trying to listen, but while she was scraping the leftovers into the bin, something had caught her eye: tiny pieces of torn card, splattered in tomato sauce. She spied the Sarastro & Salieri logo embossed on one piece.
‘Leave the lasagne dish to soak. Come and sit down,’ Elena said in a slightly tipsy voice.
Lucy slung the tea towel over her shoulder, wiped her hands on her apron and took the glass from Elena. ‘Here’s to Mamma Maria – and her recipes!’
‘Mamma Maria!Salute!’
Lucy waited, turning her glass in her hand. The candle flickered in the half-light. Surely now was the ideal moment for Elena to mention the book launch.
‘Are you okay, Lucy? You look a bit…’
Fuelled byvino rosso,Lucy strode back to the sink, took the pieces of card from the bin and placed them on the table. ‘Elena?’
‘Ah, this.’
Lucy inclined her head to one side, fixing her with an intense look. ‘Yes, Elena.This.I take it you’ve decided not to go to the book launch. Why?’
‘You said yourself that we have bitten off more than we can… swallow.’
In spite of herself, Lucy suppressed a giggle. ‘Chew.’
Elena sighed. ‘Okay, teacher. We chew off more than we can swallow,’ she said defiantly. ‘Correct?’
‘Not quite. But on a serious note, you should go.’ Lucy narrowed her eyes, scrutinising Elena’s face. ‘Unless there’s a reason you don’t want to?’
Elena shook her head, eyes flicking from the iPad to the calendar.
‘Look,’ she said, tapping the screen. ‘The teashop is fully booked until August…’
‘So?’
‘… and Valentina and Matteo will need all the help they can get running the factory, you’ll be busy with tours and the teashop – and that’s even before all the publicity the documentary will create.’
Lucy arched her brow. ‘C’mon now. It’s only what? Four days? One day’s travelling each way, the book launch on the evening you arrive, two clear days of visits, meetings or whatever.Four days,Elena. The school will be closed then until August, which will free me up to help wherever I’m needed and—’
