‘I’m afraid we’ll never know, Oscar.’
He didn’t even bother opening his eyes.
22
THURSDAY MORNING
When I got to the hospital at nine the next morning, it was to find that the doctors were still doing their rounds and I was instructed to come back in an hour. A friendly nurse gave me an encouraging smile and told me that Anna had had a good night and had been looking and sounding perky this morning. Hopefully, she would be returned to me before long.
It was still early enough for me to be able to find a parking space not far from the ferry port, and I took Oscar for a walk around the narrow streets of Portoferraio’scentro storico, where I did some shopping in the shadow of the imposing Medici fortress perched malevolently above the harbour. The wind had dropped almost completely and the temperature was climbing fast, so Oscar and I hugged the shade as far as possible. After checking out a few shops and taking in the sights of the old town, we finally emerged from the narrow streets onto the waterfront. I found myself a table outside a café close to the bay and sat down to enjoy a cappuccino and the chance to catch my breath after what had been a fraught few days.
In front of me was a line of bushes and palm trees, beyond which was a narrow road and beyond that, the pedestrian promenade around the harbour. The water of the harbour itself was hardly visible through an unbroken line of yachts, moored stern first to the quay, and I wondered how much sailing the people on board these boats actually did. I wondered whether if they were to leave their precious parking spot – and it was just like a marine version of a crowded car park – another yacht would immediately sail up and occupy it. At least, I reflected, with windsurfing, you could just pick up your board and walk off with it.
Thought of windsurfing reminded me that I had another session to look forward to later today and I think it’s fair to say my feelings on the subject were mixed. My right shoulder hurt from helping to break down the door to the shed, my left hip hurt where I had landed on the ground and wrestled with Fabio Morso and, after a broken night last night, I felt quite weary. Still, if Anna wanted me to do it, then I would obey her wishes.
My phone started ringing just as the waitress brought my coffee, and I waited until she’d left before answering.
‘Ciao, Virgilio.’ I hadn’t seen him at breakfast, mainly because I’d had mine early so I could be sure of getting to the hospital in good time.
‘Ciao, Dan, I’ve just been speaking to Piero and he told me that Fabio Morso has finally started talking. The German campers identified him in the ID parade as having been the last person seen with Aldo on Monday night. Faced with that evidence, he’s admitted that he was with Aldo that night, but he’s insisting that he had nothing to do with the murder.’ His tone became more cynical. ‘But he would say that, wouldn’t he? His story is that he met up with Aldo and threatened him in exactly the same way that Aldo had threatened his father five years ago. As we thought, his father left a letter for him with his lawyer, and Fabio got it after the old man’s death. Fabio faced Aldo with an ultimatum – either surrender the shed and its treasures to him or he would shop Aldo to the police.’
‘And how did Aldo react?’
‘As you can imagine. Morso says Aldo was furious, abusive and even threatening but finally, he agreed and handed over the key to the shed.’
‘Along with all his other keys. That doesn’t ring true. My money’s on Morso killing Aldo and taking the keys. When he spoke to us the other day, he made it quite clear that he held Aldo responsible for his father’s death, and I could well imagine him taking his revenge. Any sign of a murder weapon?’
‘Forensics say it was a smooth, blunt instrument, and Piero’s people are doing a sweep of the area as we speak, although finding that will be like finding a needle in a haystack.’ He gave a frustrated hiss. ‘Without that, Piero’s stuck as far as a meaningful murder charge is concerned. He should be able to charge Morso with attempting to dispose of illegal antiquities but not murder at the moment. And, of course, there’s Anna.’
I shared his frustration. ‘At least Morso’s assault on Anna is a pretty watertight case of attempted murder.’
‘He admits that he was there, but he’s been trying to say that that was an accident. He says when he saw a figure in the shed looking into the pit, he tried to grab her but she stumbled and fell in. It was only as she fell that he realised it was a woman and he intended going back later to let her out. He told Piero that when we caught up with him yesterday afternoon, he had gone there to do just that.’
I wasn’t buying it. ‘That sounds to me like a story he invented overnight in an attempt to avoid a charge of attempted murder. If he went to the shed to try and release her, what was he doing in the store at the far end? The trapdoor was in the main part of the shed.’
‘That’s exactly what Piero asked him, and he told me Morso says that because the front doors were padlocked, he was trying to get in that way. The fact is, though, that there’s no communicating door from the storeroom to the main part of the shed, so it’s hard to see how he was going to do that apart from batter his way through.’
‘I still believe he murdered Aldo in cold blood and if Oscar hadn’t been on the case, he would have killed Anna as well.’
‘My feelings entirely, but the public prosecutor might not be so sure. We just need to prove it.’
‘And Ignazio? What does Morso say abouthisdeath?’
‘He denies any involvement and it sounds as though he has a solid alibi for Saturday night.’ I couldn’t miss the frustration in Virgilio’s voice. ‘So as far as Ignazio’s death is concerned, there’s no evidence against anybody else, and Piero says he has no choice but to stick with Bellini’s original decision. I suppose that’s the sensible and pragmatic thing to do. Even if I still think it was murder, there’s no evidence to prove that it wasn’t simply a drunken accident.’
I sat there drinking my coffee and mulling over what Virgilio had said. Piero Fontana’s decision not to investigate Ignazio’s death any further was the logical course of action, but I still couldn’t shift the sensation that we were missing a trick. The fact was, however, just as Virgilio and the inspector had said, without any evidence to the contrary, there was little anybody could do.
At ten o’clock, I was back at the hospital and I found Anna looking and sounding much more animated. She appeared positively delighted when I produced a bag of clothes I had picked up for her to replace what she had been wearing the day before. I helped her to get changed and, under the watchful eye of the nurse, she stood up and took her first hesitant steps, holding onto my arm with her good hand as she did so. Her other arm was in the sling and she was still sporting some impressive bandages, but she was out of bed and on the road to recovery, and I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. Although she kept hold of me, she was remarkably steady on her feet and she was able to give the nurse a hug and thank the doctor who came to see her off. Together, we walked to the lift and then out to the van, where Oscar gave her a rapturous welcome and Anna almost smothered him in a grateful embrace.
On the way back to the hotel, I told her I intended sticking to her like glue from now on, but she shook her head. ‘I’ll be fine, Dan. After a good strong coffee, I’m sure I’ll be able to walk around to the windsurfing beach with you. You were making such good progress, you need to continue. I’ll be sitting outside the café cheering you on.’
I smiled and agreed, although windsurfing wasn’t high on my agenda at the moment. When we got back to the hotel, I led her to the terrace, where we found Lina and Virgilio, and they greeted her warmly. Anna ordered a double espresso and I did the same – I had a feeling I would need the energy for my windsurfing – and the drinks were brought out to us by Rita herself, who told us how appalled she had been to hear of Anna’s ‘accident’. Last night, Virgilio and I had deliberately avoided giving any details of what had happened in the pit until the inspector had been able to reach a satisfactory conclusion to the case. After distributing our coffees and giving Anna a sympathetic hug, Rita then revealed that she had brought an invitation.
‘It’s Signor Silvano’s eightieth birthday today, and he’s invited everybody to come for a glass of champagne in the lounge at seven.’ She took a surreptitious look around, but the only other table was occupied by Tatsuo, his head buried in his phone. ‘Any word on how the investigation’s going? Is it true that the police have arrested someone?’
It sounded as though Rita was well informed, but Virgilio answered cautiously. ‘It’s possible that the inspector might have apprehended Aldo Graziani’s killer, but I don’t know any more than that at present. As far as Ignazio’s death’s concerned, he’s dismissed it as misadventure. There’s no evidence to the contrary.’
An expression of satisfaction appeared on her face. ‘That’s what I’ve always thought – he was so terribly drunk. Do you know who the inspector’s arrested for Aldo’s murder?’
