As soon as I got outside, I headed for the van and opened the back door. Oscar looked out hopefully, but I had something to do before I could take him for a walk. I called Piero Fontana.
‘Ciao, Piero. Sorry to disturb you, but I’ve just come from the hospital and Anna’s remembered something.’
‘Excellent. The doctors told us we couldn’t interview her until tomorrow. Anything significant?’
I related what Anna had said about the colour yellow and he gave a satisfied grunt. ‘I still have Teresa Franceschini here and I’m about to have another go at her. I’m gradually making progress and she’s finally admitted that she and Aldo were having an affair, although she just referred to it as an “arrangement”. Talk about cold-blooded! It’s patently clear that she was granting him sexual favours in the hope of getting him either to marry her or give her a share of the business. When I say “business”, I’m still trying to decide whether that’s just the campsite or whether she and Aldo were in on the antiquities racket together. It won’t surprise you to hear that she disclaims any knowledge of it. This information about the yellow garment could potentially be a game changer.’
I thought I’d better sound a note of caution. ‘Anna couldn’t swear that it was a garment. She just said she saw something bright yellow.’
‘Let’s see what Teresa Franceschini has to say to this. I’ll catch up with you and Virgilio later.’
I slipped my phone back into my pocket and sat on the tailgate for a few moments, wondering if Teresa would turn out to be the killer – and whether this was just Aldo’s murderer or the person responsible for both deaths. The fact that she had finally admitted lying about her relationship with Aldo was significant and showed what a convincing liar she could be. She had been quite adamant in her denials before, so maybe her claim of not having any involvement in the murders would also prove to be false.
I was still lost in my thoughts when Oscar’s hairy head landed on my lap and he looked up at me in supplication. I could take a hint.
‘Right, dog, let’s go and have a good long walk. Does that appeal?’
It did.
I drove back to the hotel and, on impulse, decided to go back up to the overgrown field to see if the police had been able to uncover any more clues. The wind felt as if it was beginning to subside and as I crossed the windsurfing beach, Ingrid gave me a wave and mouthed the word, ‘Tomorrow’. I eyed the waves apprehensively and hoped they would have calmed down again by the morning.
By now, the track up through the field was exhibiting the marks of the series of vehicles that had used it today, ranging from the fire-brigade jeep to the ambulance and several police cars, although all of them had long since left. Police tape had been strung around the shed, the doors we had broken had been mended and secured by a hefty padlock attached to a solid, metal hasp, and a large, blue notice on one of the doors indicated clearly that this was a crime scene and access was forbidden. There were no police officers to be seen, so I couldn’t ask what progress they might have made and, in consequence, Oscar and I set off again up the hill until we reached another good observation point three or four hundred metres further up. In spite of the cooling breeze, we were both hot by now so we turned off the track and struggled through the vines towards a stunted, very thorny tree, where we could sit in the shade and rest.
Back down the hill from here, the view was stunning. The rocky coastline of the island surrounded by the deep azure sea with the white water of the waves was like something out of a tourist brochure and even the overgrown field itself added a splash of colour to the dusty hillside. It was immediately clear that the shed had been placed in an auspicious position. The hillside definitely flattened out a bit down there and I could just make out the darker earth of the spring I had spotted the previous day. To my amateur eye, it definitely struck me as a very sensible place for the forefathers of Elba’s present-day inhabitants to have built a settlement. Maybe Stefano would be able to locate his long-lost mining community this winter when the greenery died back. Had there even been a temple or some such here, which would have accounted for the statues? I hoped he would find it. Even if I hadn’t yet solved the Graziani murder case, maybe I’d come up with something that might help his historical investigations.
I was about to leave the welcome shade of the little tree and start heading back downhill again when I heard a crunching noise behind me. I turned my head to see Fabio Morso, once again in full cycling gear, go shooting down the rough track on his mountain bike.
His bright-yellow mountain bike.
He was travelling at pace and concentrating on negotiating the rough track so he didn’t see Oscar and me. I stayed in the shade of the tree and looked on as he bumped his way downhill until he was level with the shed. At this point, he braked hard, skidding almost to a halt, before turning left and heading straight for it. I saw him dismount and disappear around the back of the shed with the bike. To my surprise, he didn’t reappear. I waited for about five minutes but there was no sign of him so, finally, I got up and started making my way down the track again.
When I came to the turn-off for the shed, I pulled out my phone and called Piero Fontana, but there was no reply, so I called Virgilio. Keeping my voice low, I told him what I’d just seen and asked him if he could get a message to the inspector. I told him that this could just be idle curiosity on the part of Fabio Morso, but I had a feeling there might be more to it than that. Certainly, the flashy, yellow bike had stirred up a whole lot of suspicious thoughts in my head. Virgilio sounded equally fascinated and told me he would make sure a message got through to the police and then he would come and join me.
I waited for another five minutes but saw no sign of Morso. It was as if he had just disappeared into thin air. A noise attracted my attention and I saw Virgilio sprinting up the track towards me. He was red in the face and sweating profusely, but I was impressed. For a man of fifty, he was a whole lot fitter than most senior police officers I’d met. He was panting when he got to me, but he still managed to speak.
‘Where is he now? I spoke to Sergeant Gallo and he’s on his way, but it’ll be fifteen minutes before they get here from Portoferraio.’
I repeated what I’d seen and we exchanged glances while deciding what to do. He said it first. ‘Well, there are two of us and only one of him – three if you include Oscar. I think we should go and take a look at what he’s doing.’
I nodded in agreement. ‘You take the right side, I’ll take the left side, and I’ll see you around the back of the shed. Okay?’
I kept hold of Oscar’s collar while we approached the shed. Slowly, and as silently as possible, I made my way along the side, scanning the nearby vines for any sign of Morso or his bike, until I reached the back and cautiously risked a surreptitious glance around the corner. To my amazement, there was nobody there, nothing to be seen. Morso and his bike had disappeared without trace. Virgilio’s face appeared around the other corner and we both shrugged our shoulders helplessly. Behind the shed was an impenetrable bank of vines, brambles and thorn bushes, and a pair of umbrella pines made it cool and dark back here. There was no way Morso could have disappeared into the undergrowth so that only left us with the shed itself. This was made of a series of wooden panels, bolted onto a modern-looking, metal frame, but there was no sign of a doorway. I had almost given up on any chance of finding a back door when I noticed Oscar with his nose to the ground.
Although he has definitely inherited the retriever gene, he’s never displayed any great talents as a sniffer dog – unless it’s food or other dogs’ backsides – but there was clearly something here that interested him. I crouched down and took a closer look at the earth by the back wall and suddenly noticed something. On the hard, dry ground, I could just about make out the impressions made by the chunky tyres of a mountain bike. What was strange was that after running parallel to the rear of the shed for several feet, they suddenly turned in a right angle and stopped right up against the back wall. I let my hand run over the timber surface until I felt the faintest cut in the wood. I pulled out my phone and, with the aid of the torch, I realised that what I was touching was a beautifully concealed doorway. There was a rear entrance to the shed after all.
I looked up at Virgilio and held a finger to my lips while pointing out what I had found. I saw realisation dawn on his face so, slowly and quietly, we tiptoed away until we could whisper to each other without fear of being overheard. He glanced at his watch before speaking.
‘Gallo and his team should be here in ten minutes or so. What do you think? Shall we try and go in or do we just wait until the police get here?’
‘I think it’s pretty clear that he’s in there now, so if one of us guards the front gates – even if they are securely bolted – and the other stays here guarding the back, we should have him pretty well hemmed in. If you take the front, you can fill the police in when they arrive. If he tries to make his exit that way before they get here, just shout and I’ll come running. And the same applies for me if he tries to make a run for it through the back door. All right?’
He nodded and tiptoed off, leaving Oscar and me to police the rear of the shed. I positioned myself at one corner so that I could keep an eye on both the back and side walls and settled down to wait while Oscar sprawled in the shade alongside me. While I stood there, I did my best to make sense of the situation so far. It was clear that Morso knew his way around this building intimately and I wondered what had brought him here now. He must have known from the police tape surrounding the shed, if not from the local bush telegraph, that the police had been here. Had he come to check whether the pit with its hidden treasure trove had been found? Whatever the reason, one thing was clear: if he knew about the hidden door, then he must surely have known about the concealed trapdoor in the floor giving access to the statues. In consequence, there was every likelihood that he had been the person who had assaulted Anna and left her for dead. I felt another wave of anger welling up inside me and I did my best to suppress it. This wasn’t the moment for thought of retaliation, it was a time for a cool head.
I was still standing there thinking hard a few minutes later when I started to hear distant sirens as what sounded like a pair of police cars came charging along the road and turned up the track towards us. The sound must have filtered through to the inside of the shed because I suddenly saw the hidden door swing open as the figure of Fabio Morso emerged with his bike. He already had his foot on one pedal when I threw myself at him, knocking him and his bike to the ground while I ended up on top of him. I shouted at the top of my voice and a few seconds later, Virgilio arrived and, between us, we pinned the man down while Oscar stood by and watched the antics of the three humans rolling around in the dirt with an expression of puzzled amusement on his hairy face.
21
WEDNESDAY EVENING
