Chapter 10
WEDNESDAY MORNING
I had another close encounter with Eddie Smith when I got to the villa. A uniformed officer at the front door told me that Virgilio was once again in the small lounge, and I was on my way there when I bumped into Eddie. He glanced furtively around before approaching me.
‘Seems I might have got it wrong… you know, about the killer. The Italian chief inspector told me that South African mercenary bloke copped it in a bomb blast, but, now that Mr Hicks has snuffed it, I’m coming round to thinking it might be somebody here what done both murders.’
This was pretty much what I’d been thinking myself, but I just nodded and let Eddie elaborate.
‘Anyway, I’ve been doing a bit more thinking and I reckon it was the Spanish bird.’
‘Emilia Cortez? Why would you think that? Has she been doing anything suspicious?’
He shook his head ruefully. ‘Well, no, but it must be her, mustn’t it? She’s the only one who ain’t one of us, you know, one of the TXA bunch.’
‘That’s your only reason for thinking she might be the killer?’
‘I suppose so. It’s just that I can’t imagine any of the TXA gang killing Mr Hicks or, indeed, the boss.
’ There was another short pause. ‘I’ll be quite honest, guvnor, I never really liked Mr Hicks.
He wasn’t like the boss. The boss was straight; you could trust him.
Mr Hicks was different. You never really knew where you stood with him. ’
‘Can you think of anybody here who might have had a grudge against Hicks?’
There was another, longer pause before Eddie just shook his head and padded silently away.
I filed away the fact that Donald Hicks maybe hadn’t had the best reputation and carried on towards the small lounge and it was there that I found Agent Toselli in the process of handing over to Virgilio’s team.
Maurizio Toselli of the Italian security service was quite something.
I had always assumed that one of the principal requirements of a good spy should be the ability to pass unnoticed, to be able to melt into a crowd and disappear.
Toselli definitely didn’t fit into that category.
He was probably about six feet six, as thin as a beanpole, with an unruly mop of carrot-coloured hair.
To make matters worse, today he was wearing a bright-red shirt with a white collar.
He would have stood out in a football crowd, let alone in an identity parade.
He and Virgilio were sitting opposite each other, with Marco Innocenti and Sergeant Dini standing solemnly in the background, and the atmosphere in the room was tense, to say the least. When I followed Oscar into the room, Toselli leapt to his feet and pointed an outraged finger at my dog.
‘Get that animal out of here. This isn’t a zoo. This is a crime scene.’
Oscar stopped and shot me a glance that clearly said, What’s his problem?
I was about to reply – to either or both of them – when Virgilio stepped in.
‘This is Officer Oscar. He’s a valued part of the investigative team.
’ While Toselli digested this piece of information, Virgilio made the introductions.
‘Dan, this is Agent Toselli of the Italian security service, AISE. He and his men arrived last night and have been standing guard over the villa since then. Unfortunately, they were unable to prevent another death from taking place right in front of their noses.’ He turned his attention to the tall man.
‘Agent Toselli, this is Commissario Armstrong of the British police. He’s here to help with the investigation. ’
I noted that Virgilio had left out the fact that I had been retired from the Met for three years now and held out my hand towards the ginger-haired man, doing my best not to give into the temptation of calling him Agent Orange.
‘Good morning, Agent Toselli. How’s the investigation going? Do you think this second death is related to the first?’
He extended a bony hand and shook mine. His skin was clammy and his grip like a damp rag. ‘Good morning. You’ll have to ask Commissario Pisano about the case. My men have been on their feet all night, and I’m standing them down.’
I saw a little smile flicker across Virgilio’s face at this attempt to disguise the fact that Toselli and his team had been relieved of their duties.
In the meantime, Oscar had trotted over to Virgilio, followed by Marco, before making a beeline for Sergeant Dini, who bent down to stroke him.
I returned my attention to Virgilio and repeated my question.
‘Do you think the two deaths are related?’
He nodded, and I saw the tall man immediately open his mouth to say something but then close it again as if he had thought better of it.
Virgilio continued. ‘Yes, I do. Agent Toselli assures me that nobody could possibly have got into the villa or the gardens last night – and that appears to be supported by the CCTV footage outside – so we have to assume that, if it is confirmed that this latest victim was murdered, it must have been done by somebody in here, and it could well be that same person committed the first murder as well.’
I glanced across at Toselli. ‘I was led to understand that you had incontrovertible proof that the first murder was committed by a foreign agency. Has this latest development made you change your mind?’ I did my best to keep my tone cordial, although I could see him squirm before answering.
‘Like I say, ask the commissario.’ With that, he turned on his heel and marched out of the door. I had a feeling he was probably dying to slam it behind him, but he resisted the impulse.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Virgilio motioned to me to sit down and he beckoned the other two officers to join us.
‘What Agent Toselli omitted to tell you, Dan, was that he spent last night sleeping comfortably in a four-star hotel in the centro storico while his men were left here to enjoy the hospitality of the villa. From the alcohol on the breath of at least two of them this morning, it looks like they indulged too freely in the contents of the villa’s cellars, giving the killer total freedom to do as he – or she – liked.
Word of this somehow got back to the questore.
’ He shot me a little grin. ‘I wonder who might have told him that? Anyway, as you can imagine, the questore was furious and he ordered Toselli and his crew back to Rome straight away.’
I told them about the phone call I had received from Penelope, particularly the part about the tense atmosphere and the argument between Tristan Angel and Vincent Archer and Archer’s confrontation with O’Connell, and we pondered what might have been behind this, but without reaching any conclusions.
I also passed on Eddie’s latest theory about Emilia Cortez being the killer, but none of us could come up with a worthwhile motive for her to have killed either man.
I asked them if they had any new information on yesterday’s killing, and Marco was about to bring me up to speed when Sergeant Dini’s phone bleeped. It was a message from the path lab, and she read it out to us. ‘“Definitely arsenic, definitely not suicide. Full report to follow”.’
Virgilio looked around at us. ‘So, it’s clear that we’re dealing with two murders. Are we looking for two murderers or one?’ He turned to Marco. ‘Give Dan the rest of the news.’
‘Tech are having a hell of a job getting into Angel’s laptop.
They’re still trying, but it’s taking time.
The other potentially interesting thing is that we’ve been checking on Angel’s ex-wife and, according to her housekeeper, she’s currently on holiday in, would you believe, Italy?
The housekeeper wasn’t sure where, but she’s given us the ex-wife’s mobile number.
Now that you’re here, Dan, would you feel like giving her a call?
Seems like quite a coincidence that she’s in the country at the exact same time as her ex gets killed. ’
I agreed willingly. ‘Of course, I’ll be happy to. Mind you, Italy’s a big country, so it could be she’s up in the Alps or down in Sicily, but it’s definitely worth a try. I agree with you that it’s a coincidence, and none of us like coincidences. What do we know about the ex-wife?’
Sergeant Dini looked down at her phone and fielded the question.
‘Jane Taylor-Mead, age forty-four. They married while Angel was still in the army but they divorced four years ago. She divorced him for “repeated infidelity”. It would appear that he didn’t take to monogamy.
She’s been living in Brighton ever since.
She hasn’t remarried and, according to the Brighton police, she doesn’t have a job.
Presumably, she got a healthy sum in the divorce settlement. ’
I thanked her for the information. ‘Of course, it could be he still owed her money and she came over here to have it out with him. Maybe she’s the mysterious person he was supposed to be meeting at the Four Seasons hotel yesterday morning.
’ I glanced across at Marco and made a suggestion, deliberately trying not to sound like DCI Armstrong throwing his weight about.
‘Do you think it might be worth asking them to check if they have a guest there with the name of Jane Angel or Jane Taylor-Mead?’
He nodded and Sergeant Dini headed for the door, pulling out her phone as she did so.
Virgilio gave me a little smile. ‘Good idea, Dan. Here’s hoping.’
I dialled the number. It rang half a dozen times before going to voicemail. I mouthed the word ‘Voicemail’ to Marco and he nodded, so I left a message.
‘Hello, Ms Taylor-Mead. My name is Armstrong, and I’m calling on behalf of the police in Florence. We would be very grateful if you could give us a call back on this number. It’s important. Thank you.’
I put the phone down and glanced over at Marco again. ‘By the way, any joy with the weapon used to kill Angel?’