7
SUNDAY EVENING
We had arranged with Lina and Virgilio that we would meet up on the terrace for dinner at eight, but there was a knock on our door at seven-thirty as I was watching Oscar as he finished hoovering up his dinner. I opened the door to see Virgilio standing there, looking serious.
‘Ciao, Dan. Can you spare me five minutes?’
I glanced over my shoulder and saw that Anna had heard. Oscar had just swallowed the last of his food and was following it with a good slurp of water. Interpreting the invitation as applying to both of us, he headed for the door, tail wagging, to greet his friend. Anna waved me away, and Oscar and I went out into the corridor. I followed Virgilio down to the bar where he ordered two beers, and we took them out into a little piece of garden containing a remarkable collection of prickly pears and other cacti. There was a bench there facing out over the gardens and we sat down side by side. While Oscar wandered around on a tour of inspection, Virgilio absently clinked his bottle against mine and looked up.
‘I imagine you’ve had your prints taken by now?’ I nodded and he continued. ‘I need to tell you something before…’ I had to wait some time before he continued, and what he said came as a considerable surprise ‘…before Bellini arrests me.’
‘Arrestsyou?’ Oscar must have heard the disbelief in my voice as he came trotting back to see what was wrong. I tousled his ears as I carried on. ‘What on earth for?’
‘The murder of Ignazio Graziani.’
I’ve been faced with all kinds of unusual situations in my life, and not very much surprises me these days, but hearing my best friend – himself a senior police officer – telling me he was going to be arrested for murder certainly came as a considerable shock. Doing my best to keep my voice even, I asked the million-dollar question.
‘Didyou kill Graziani?’
He shook his head. ‘Of course I didn’t, but the fact is that I haven’t been straight with you, or indeed the inspector.’ He took a long draught of beer before continuing. ‘The thing is, Dan, I saw Graziani again last night after you went to bed.’
‘There’s a big difference between seeing the guy and killing him. What happened?’
‘I needed to clear my head so, after we split up, instead of going back to the room, I went outside again and made my way down to the beach. I sat on a rock for ages, trying to make up my mind whether to stay here or move to another hotel before finally deciding to sleep on it. I came back up the path and when I reached the top, I almost bumped into Graziani. He was leaning against a tree. By this time, my eyes had got used to the dark, and I recognised him immediately. He also recognised me and, without a word, he lurched forward and took a swing at me. He was so drunk that he missed by a mile and almost fell over. I know I should have just left it at that but all the emotion, all the memories – some truly terrible memories that still haunt me – came flooding back and I hit him.’ He held out his right hand and I saw his bruised knuckles. ‘I only hit him once, on the left cheek, but it was enough to send him flying.’
I could hardly believe my ears. ‘And he went over the cliff?’
‘God, no. We weren’t anywhere near the cliff edge. I just sent him sprawling into the trees and I left him there. From my point of view, it was cathartic, and I could feel myself smiling all the way back to the hotel. All my pent-up disgust and loathing came out in that one blow, and I felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders.’ He shook his head ruefully. ‘I should have told the inspector this but, for some reason – professional embarrassment, probably – I didn’t. The trouble is that I’m sure the CCTV will show him going out and then me going out again. Forensics may even be able to get some of my DNA off his body. It won’t take Bellini long to check back and find that I was one of the investigation team when Graziani was carrying out his atrocities. For all I know, somebody maybe saw the little scene with the red wine last night as well. Either way, the finger of suspicion will understandably point at me, and I’m sure he’ll arrest me.’ He looked up and caught my eye for a moment, his expression one of resignation. ‘If the roles were reversed, that’s what I’d do – or at least sit him down and lean on him. It’s what you’d do as well, isn’t it?’
The short answer to that one was probably yes, but I didn’t say it. Instead, I was determined to stay positive. ‘First, there’s a big difference between the CCTV showing you going out and coming back again, and you being seen murdering somebody. Second, I seriously doubt whether they’ll be able to pick up any of your DNA on the body. If you hit him in the face, don’t forget that much of the man’s head and arms spent all night immersed in seawater. Thirdly, there’s the question of timing. What time was it when you met Graziani?’
‘About eleven. It was ten past when I got back to my room.’
‘When I spoke to the inspector earlier on, he told me that the pathologist had come up with a window of between ten and midnight, so that means that there was almost another full hour for the killer to act. So, if there’s CCTV footage showing you coming back at just after eleven, in all probability, there will also be footage of the killer, assuming he or she came from the hotel.’
He didn’t respond and we both sat there in the evening sunlight trying to think of the best course of action. In fact, it didn’t take that long. There was one thing that Virgilio had to do as soon as possible. As he wasn’t forthcoming, I decided to spell it out to him.
‘You need to see the inspector right now and tell him what you’ve just told me. Tell him about last night’s scene with the red wine and tell him about your part in the Graziani investigation. You are a respectable – and respected – senior police officer and you have nothing to hide.’ I tapped him on the arm to attract his attention. ‘I mean it, Virgilio; there’s no proof you were involved in his death, but the longer you leave it without telling the inspector your full story, the more suspicious it’s going to look.’
He nodded gloomily. ‘You’re right, Dan. I’ve just been putting it off. It’s time to talk to him. I wonder if he and his people are still here.’ He swallowed the last of his beer and stood up. ‘I’ll go and see if they’re still on the terrace taking fingerprints.’
I stood up as well and set off around the side of the building with him. We had barely reached the steps to the terrace when Inspector Bellini and the uniformed sergeant appeared in front of us. The sergeant had the decency to look somewhat embarrassed, but there was a gleam of satisfaction in the inspector’s eyes as he addressed Virgilio.
‘Commissario Pisano, I’m going to have to ask you to come with me to the police station. I have some questions for you about the murder of Ignazio Graziani.’
Virgilio nodded solemnly and glanced across at me. ‘Seems like I left it too late after all, Dan.’
The least I could do was to support my friend, so I addressed the inspector directly. ‘Commissario Pisano has just been telling me what happened last night, Inspector, and he was on his way to tell you. It may help your investigation, but there’s no question of him being involved in murder.’
Bellini gave no response. With Virgilio sandwiched between him and the sergeant, they set off towards the car park, and I called after them. ‘I’ll tell Lina, Virgilio. Don’t worry, it’ll all get sorted out.’
Or so I hoped.
Lina and Anna were both sitting at our table and Oscar trotted ahead of me to greet them. Both looked up and smiled, but the smiles didn’t last long, even though I tried to put as positive a spin on it as I could.
‘Virgilio has gone off to Portoferraio with the inspector. It turns out that he saw Graziani again last night at around eleven and the police want to speak to him about what happened.’
An apprehensive look appeared on Lina’s face. ‘He’s been arrested?’
