Chapter 47 Fenna – Day 11
Giovanni pulls off his hard-wearing leather utility gloves and drops them on the top of an upturned terracotta pot, pushing his dark wavy fringe out of his face.
Fenna takes in his camel workman boots, the mud-splattered, dusty, knee-length cargo shorts, and the tight khaki t-shirt. Her stomach flips.
‘Are you sure we can trust him?’ Rosie whispers as they near him, clutching a bottle of mineral water.
Fenna ignores her question and waves to Giovanni from the other side of the church allotment plot.
She is tired from another night of broken sleep, tired of Rosie’s panicked questions, and tired of coming up with a plausible excuse why the two of them needed to nip out leaving the children with Luke for an hour.
Giovanni leans across to kiss Fenna on the cheek.
She blinks away the sensation that they are doing something illicit by being here.
She feels like she’s deceiving her husband entertaining Rosie’s accusations, then she remembers the deep stack of original Marianne Fraser paintings locked away in the creepy basement, and shudders.
Marianne clearly has an unhealthy obsession with Danielle Dixon, but surely it doesn’t mean anything more – like Rosie is insinuating.
But then again, why keep these priceless pieces of art hidden?
She was adamant she had stopped painting for good.
Her mind swings between rational and irrational theories as to why they exist.
Her mother-in-law might be many things, but Fenna would know if she was capable of being involved in the missing schoolgirl. Wouldn’t she?
Rosie is convinced that finding Carla’s crumpled box of medication is evidence that a crime has taken place.
Fenna, on the other hand, tells herself it’s perfectly reasonable to believe Carla simply dropped her box of pills by accident when she was last in the basement helping Julietta with the laundry, and they got kicked to the side and squashed into the gap of the door.
There’s nothing to suggest foul play. And yet, when she called Giovanni, using the number on the business card he’d given her, telling him they’d found something belonging to Carla at the house, he was keen to meet.
‘Giovanni, this is Rosie Riley,’ Fenna says, stepping back. ‘Theo’s fiancée.’
‘Ciao.’ He smiles as he holds a large, dusty hand out to Rosie.
She shakes his hand for a micro-second and mumbles hello.
‘Thank you for meeting us on your day off,’ Fenna says. She tries to subtly wipe her upper lip, which is beading with sweat. Get a grip. ‘It’s best if Rosie starts . . .’
Fenna knows Rosie’s reluctant to share things with the police, but if she’s serious about avenging her father’s death she needs to try and trust Giovanni.
They move to the shade of the church. Out of sight from any passing cars. After double-checking the coast is clear, Rosie takes a deep breath and explains everything.
She tells him about why she’s really come to Laprezia, about her dad’s ‘investigation’ to discover who ‘Fraser?’ is.
She explains the text, the unusual behaviour of certain family members, Julietta being scared, the taxi driver telling her to be careful, the CCTV, the locked rooms, the paintings of Danielle in the basement, and Carla’s hidden heart medication.
‘. . . I’m convinced someone in the family is hiding a terrible secret,’ Rosie says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
A flutter of panic rises in her chest. She looks at Giovanni for reassurance.
He’s not smiling now.
‘This is all confidential,’ Rosie adds. Her voice is dry and scratchy by the time she finishes.
Giovanni nods. ‘I wasn’t working on the case at the beginning. I don’t know about this “lost” phone.’
‘One of your colleagues hid it on purpose. That text, reads to me like a confession. Who knows what else was on her phone,’ Rosie says, unscrewing the lid on her bottle of water. ‘I’m certain that if we can find Carla it will help us discover what happened to Dani.’
‘There’s no evidence that the two disappearances are connected,’ Fenna chips in.
‘Not yet. It could be a huge coincidence, but . . .’ Rosie takes a few gulps of her water and turns to Fenna. ‘Did you speak to Luke about Carla? Did you ask him how well he knows her?’
‘No. I don’t need to.’ Fenna can’t keep her cool much longer. ‘My husband has nothing to do with her.’
Giovanni presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose.
‘At the moment there’s not enough physical evidence of the family being involved with either missing girl.
If you want to write a statement explaining everything you’ve told me, we can at least keep this on record.
You’ll need to go to the station. It’s in Monterchi and—’
Rosie cuts him off. ‘We can’t go. Don’t you understand? It’s risky enough us coming to talk to you here.’
Giovanni’s lips form a sad smile. ‘Trust me, I want to help, you know I do, but you need more.’
He’s right. Mysterious texts that may or may not exist, medication in the basement, and creepy paintings are not enough. Fenna wishes she’d not betrayed her in-laws and set this pointless meeting up.
‘What happened with the CCTV cameras at the house?’ Rosie asks.
‘There was nothing of interest there. It’s as though Carla simply vanishes.’ He sighs. A noisy motorbike splutters past the church garden. ‘Do you have anything else?’
Neither of the women say anything.
‘Come on, we should go,’ Fenna says, checking the time.
‘Wait.’ Rosie holds up a trembling hand to Fenna. She steps closer to Giovanni. ‘There’s going to be a party for our engagement tonight. It’s the perfect opportunity. Everyone will be out so you can sneak in and look around for hours, as long as you’ve gone before we come back.’
Fenna splutters. Is she hearing her correctly?
‘Che cazzo. You want me to break into the Frasers’ house?’ Giovanni pulls himself tall.
‘No, not break in . . .’ Rosie backtracks.
Fenna stares at her. The woman has lost the plot. Has she forgotten she’s talking to a police officer? ‘We need to make a move,’ she says, bringing this absurd conversation to a close. They’ve wasted enough of his time.
Giovanni rubs the back of his neck. ‘I’m sorry. Unless you can find anything we can use to make an arrest, there is nothing I can do to help.’
Rosie looks as if she might say something but stops. She thanks him for his time and walks away, mumbling to herself.
Giovanni reaches out and lightly presses his fingers against Fenna’s arm, pulling her out of earshot. He talks to her in Italian. ‘You believe what she says?’
‘I don’t know. She seemed convincing but perhaps I’ve misjudged her.’
She’s embarrassed that she’s fallen for Rosie’s ridiculous rumours. How could she suggest he breaks in? The woman is clearly clutching at straws.
Fenna holds his gaze. ‘The Frasers aren’t involved. They can’t be, because if they were then . . .’ She can’t bring herself to finish that sentence. ‘No. She’s wrong.’
Giovanni’s breath brushes her cheek. There is a flicker of something that crosses his tanned face. ‘But what if she’s right?’