Chapter 10 #2
‘Yes and no. Forensics found a shell case lying beside the confessional, and Ballistics say that it shows signs of having been fired from a non-standard weapon.’ In response to my raised eyebrows, he explained.
‘The report from Ballistics makes interesting reading.’ He scrolled through his messages.
‘Over the past few years, weapons have started appearing that are made by 3D printers. These began with simple single-shot pistols, but now there are even semi-automatic weapons made out of plastic – or, at least, principally made of plastic. Ballistics say that the barrels are normally still metal, but they can quite easily be disguised as pens or lipsticks as far as a metal detector is concerned. These weapons are still rare, and they would imply quite a bit of sophistication on the part of the user.’ He glanced up at the two of us.
‘The sort of sophistication one would expect from a company like TXA.’
‘Any prints on the shell case?’ I remembered several investigations back in my days at the Met when we had managed to convict killers who had meticulously cleaned their murder weapon but had forgotten to remove their fingerprints from the shells as they had loaded the weapon.
He shook his head. ‘Nothing at all. Very professional.’
I thanked him for the information. ‘I gather Agent Toselli and his team didn’t find any trace of the weapon here. What’s the plan? Are you getting your people to do another search?’
He nodded vigorously. ‘You bet your life we are. There should be a team turning up any minute now, and they have orders to go through everything, lifting floorboards and digging up the drains if necessary.’
‘And what are the occupants of the villa going to be doing while that’s going on?’
‘I’ve asked them to assemble in the dining room, and we’re going to call them in one by one for another interview. Are you happy to participate?’
‘Most definitely.’
I was already on my feet, ready to follow Virgilio to the door, when my phone started ringing. It was Tristan Angel’s ex-wife, and I put it on speaker.
‘Hello, is that Mr Armstrong?’ It was a distinctly upper-class English accent.
‘Good morning, Ms Taylor-Mead. Thanks for calling back.’
‘I got your message.’
She sounded understandably hesitant and I was quick to explain. ‘I’ve been asked to speak to you by Chief Inspector Pisano of the Florence police. Would you mind if I ask where you’re calling from?’
‘I’ve just finished having breakfast at the Four Seasons hotel in Florence.’ I saw Virgilio’s eyes open wide as he murmured a translation to Marco, whose command of English is very basic. Ms Taylor-Mead’s voice dropped a tad. ‘Why do the police want to speak to me?’
‘It’s about your ex-husband. When did you last see him?’
I could sense a brief hesitation before she replied. ‘Face to face, it must be over three years ago, although I have communicated with him by mail and over the Internet a number of times since. What’s he done now?’
There was something about her manner that made me think she wasn’t telling the whole truth, so I took a chance. ‘So, are you saying that you didn’t meet up with him yesterday morning?’
‘Yesterday morning…?’ She sounded flustered. ‘Who says I met him yesterday?’
I took another chance. ‘He did. He told some of his employees that he was meeting you at the Four Seasons.’
There was a long pause during which at one point, I thought she had maybe even put the phone down, before I heard her take a deep breath.
‘You’re right, I had arranged to meet him yesterday morning, but the bastard never showed up.
I came all the way from England to talk to him, and he didn’t have the decency to see me after all.
’ Her voice had gone up a few octaves, and I could definitely hear anger.
Whether this was genuine or simulated remained to be seen.
I glanced across at Virgilio and saw him mime driving a car. I relayed the message to Angel’s ex-wife. ‘It’s important that the police speak to you as soon as possible. Would it be convenient if we come and see you now?’
Another pause before she replied, reluctantly, ‘Yes, I suppose so. I’ve actually booked to climb to the top of the duomo, but I’m sure I can rebook that. How long will it take you to get here?’
The one thing we didn’t want was for her to do a runner, so I improvised. ‘An officer is stationed outside your hotel now, and I’ll get him to come in and see you in a few minutes. I’ll be there very soon with Chief Inspector Pisano. Are you happy for the interview to take place in the hotel?’
‘Wherever.’ There was resignation in her tone.
Virgilio already had his phone in his hand by the time my call finished.
In a matter of seconds, he had arranged for a pair of officers to break all speed records and get to the Four Seasons hotel in the next couple of minutes and keep an eye on Ms Taylor-Mead.
No sooner had he arranged that than he turned to Marco.
‘You happy to start the interviews here with the help of Dini? Her English has really come on.’ Sergeant Dini had had to spend time over the winter on sick leave, recovering from a serious injury, and clearly, she hadn’t been wasting her time.
‘If you run into any language problems, tell the people we’ll be back within the hour.
’ He glanced across at me. ‘Shall we go?’ I nodded, and he gave me a grin.
‘At least we might get a good cup of coffee at the Four Seasons.’