‘Would it really cost as much as that?’
‘At least. And a good deal more when the case got under way.’
‘Hasn’t Broke got any money?’
It was Tom Proctor who answered that one. He said, ‘Yes, and no. But chiefly, no. If he wasn’t such an altruistic sort of person, he’d have quite a reasonable amount of spare cash. It comes from a trust set up by his maternal grandfather, Leopold Scott, the fashionable artist. His reputation in art circles may be a bit fly-blown now, but there’s no questioning his competence as a financier. He put all his money into projects like the Hudson Bay Company and de Beers, and the investments must be worth ten times what they were when they were first made.’
‘And who has the money?’
‘His mother had a life interest in it. On her death it went to Robert and his sister, Felicia, absolutely. Only Robert wouldn’t take his share. He said it was against his principles to live on unearned income.’
‘So Felicia gets the lot.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Wouldn’t she help?’
‘I don’t know. If Robert is an Edwardian Englishman, Felicia is an early Victorian Englishwoman. Although the money she lives on came originally from painting ennobled aldermen, diamond-spangled dowagers and overfed lapdogs, she has never really approved of the arts.’
‘But if she knew he was in trouble?’
‘The question doesn’t arise. I should need Robert’s permission before I approached her, and he’d never give it.’
‘Hasn’t the Consulate got funds for crises like this?’
‘Very small funds,’ said the Consul sadly. ‘And not for crises like this. I could produce twenty pounds to send a drunken British sailor back to Pompey, but that’s about all it really runs to.’
‘Then we shall have to organize a whip-round,’ said the Commander. ‘I’ll put in a hundred pounds for a start.’
‘I expect we could raise a fighting fund,’ said the Consul. ‘A lot of people would contribute, if I asked them as a personal favour. The only snag is–’ He seemed to experience some difficulty in going on.
‘Well,’ said the Commander.
‘I should have to persuade them that their money wasn’t going to be wasted. Before you say anything more, let me tell you something. I’ve had Risso round here this morning. He’s the Sostituto-Procuratore in charge of the case against Broke. He made no secret of what he wanted. He wanted me to see Broke, and persuade him to agree to a modified plea of guilty.’
‘I see,’ said the Commander. ‘Having lost one ally, now that we’ve got rid of Toscafundi, he comes crawling round to try and get you to do his dirty work for him. I’m quite sure you refused.’
The Consul said, with a suggestion of controlled anger which was curiously effective, ‘I suggest, Commander, that we stop looking at this from a stand-point of sentiments like friendship and personal loyalty, however laudable, and have regard to the facts. Risso showed me the reports from the Forensic Science Laboratory at Rome. Fragments of glass were found in Milo Zecchi’s hair, and, in two cases, actually embedded in his skull. They have been extracted, and fitted back into the other fragments from the fog-lamp on Broke’s car. The microphotographs show, beyond any question, that the fragments fit together. There is therefore no doubt at all that it was Broke’s car which hit Milo. And unless we can suppose that someone else took out his car, later that night, knocked down Milo, and then took the car back to the garage – which seems to me completely incredible – then it was Broke who hit him.’
9
Jigsaw
‘I seem,’ said Commander Comber, ‘to have put my foot in it. And not for the first time. I remember running down the Admiral commanding at the Nore, when he was out in his pinnace, fishing. I got away with that, too.’ His gleam of cheerfulness faded. ‘But I’m damned if I see what we’re going to do next.’
‘Cheer up,’ said Elizabeth. ‘At least we’re doing something. No one else is doing anything at all.’
‘But is it getting us anywhere?’
‘I think it is. I think that what Tina’s just told us is tremendously important.’
The three of them were sitting round the table in the Commander’s flat at the early evening conference which seemed to have become part of their lives in the last ten days.
‘It’s important,’ agreed the Commander, ‘but what does it mean?’
‘The whole thing’s like a jigsaw puzzle,’ said Elizabeth. ‘You know how it is when you’ve done all the easy bits, round the edge, and the middle still looks a bit of a mess, and you’ve got two or three big bits that don’t seem to belong at all. Then you turn one of them round, and, hey presto, they do fit. And the picture falls into place.’
‘I wish I knew how to do the trick.’
Elizabeth ignored this. She had her chin on her clenched fist, and was staring out of the window at the deepening cobalt of the Etruscan evening. She said, ‘It’s quite obvious that two or three different stories have got mixed up. What we’ve got to do is to follow each one through, to the point where it peters out. Then we start on the next one and do the same. And then the next. Sooner or later we’ll spot the joins.’
‘Where do you suggest we start?’
‘We’ll start with what Tina saw in the Professor’s safe.’
‘I did not see it at all clearly,’ said Tina. ‘Because that pig, Danilo Ferri, came and slammed the door. But there was gold. That I’m sure. A necklace, and some earrings, and – a sort of–’ She passed a hand over her head.
‘A tiara?’
‘No. It was more like a crown, I think. And there were two or three boxes. Long shallow boxes on little pegs.’
‘Caskets.’
‘Yes. You could say caskets. They were made out of a smooth stone. Mercurio told me the name. I will think of it in a moment. Alabaster. And there was this lady. She had no clothes on, and she was lying in the safe, but I think she was meant to be standing up. She was made of alabaster, too.’
‘How long?’
Tina gestured with her hands about two feet apart.
‘And was there some sort of pedestal?’
‘That I could not see. The door was only open for a few seconds, you understand.’
‘What we need here is a bit of expert advice,’ said the Commander. ‘Trouble is, the only expert I know is Robert, and he’s locked away in the Murate Jail.’
Elizabeth said, ‘There was a man who came to lunch the other day. An American. Harfield Moss. If he’s still in Florence–’
‘Action to be taken,’ said the Commander, making a note. ‘See this chap Moss. What comes next?’
‘The next bit is becoming a little bit clearer,’ said Elizabeth. ‘It’s these two men. The “listening box” Annunziata was talking about would be some sort of microphone, which had been put in the Zecchi living-room. The wires probably ran up to Dindoni’s apartment across the courtyard.’
‘That was a bit far-sighted of them, wasn’t it?’ said the Commander. ‘I mean, why should they think they were going to hear anything to their advantage?’
Tina’s explained that. The first time Robert came to see Milo they had their talk in his workshop. Only he wouldn’t go on with what he was going to say, because he thought Dindoni was listening in.’
‘That is right,’ said Tina. ‘And very likely he was listening. His pig’s ear was made for keyholes.’
‘So the only other place they could talk was in their own kitchen.’
‘All right,’ said the Commander. ‘I’ll accept that. But what did Dindoni hear that was so important?’
‘He heard Milo making all his arrangements for that evening. How he was going up to see his doctor. How he planned to slip away from the back of the surgery. When and where he was to meet Broke. The whole plan.’
The Commander thought about this. He said, ‘So what did he do about it?’
‘He told those two hired bullies who were working with him. Incidentally,
what have you done about them, Tina?’
‘I have told the Police about them.’
‘And what did the Police say?’
‘They said they would investigate the matter.’
The Commander snorted. He said, ‘We’re getting off-beam. Suppose Dindoni did hear all that stuff, and suppose he did pass it on to these two thugs. What did they do?’
The three of them looked at each other. ‘All right,’ said Elizabeth. ‘The next bit of jigsaw is Labro. What was he trying to sell?’
‘I don’t think that’s too difficult. It’s obvious the Professor is working some sort of fiddle. Probably he’s already broken into the main burial chamber in that tumulus of his, and taken out the pick of the stuff.’
‘The gold and alabaster in his safe.’
‘Right. And now he’s postponing the official “discovery” until he’s disposed of the top pieces abroad. Then he’ll announce the finding of the tomb, and a lot of less valuable relics, terracottas and bronzes and such like, which will go to the National Museums, and everyone will be happy. Labro probably spotted this. The other workers would be too dumb to realize what was going on–’
‘Or too much under the Professor’s thumb. After all, they’re his farm-hands. His slaves almost.’
‘Very likely. So now you can see why the Professor used Avvocato Toscafundi to buy off Labro. He couldn’t afford to have him shooting his mouth off. Particularly before he’s disposed of the real loot.’
‘It makes sense of that bit,’ said Elizabeth. ‘But it still doesn’t explain what happened to Robert. Or was that just a coincidence?’
‘I refuse to believe it.’
‘How will this help Signor Roberto?’ said Tina.
Their discussions were held partly in Italian, which the Commander and Elizabeth both spoke well, and partly in English, which Tina understood very slightly. The last exchanges had been in English, and had gone over her head.
‘It’s a difficult question to answer,’ said Elizabeth. ‘If we could find out what really happened, and prove it–’
‘And get a lawyer to put it across for us.’
‘And find the money to pay for the lawyer.’
‘If it is money that is needed,’ said Tina, ‘I have some. As much, perhaps, as fifty thousand lire.’
‘I’m afraid it isn’t that sort of money.’
‘How much them?’
‘Five hundred thousand. Maybe a million before we’ve finished.’
‘Does it cost that much to buy a lawyer?’
‘They’re expensive animals,’ said the Commander. He looked at Elizabeth, who said, ‘I could contribute. But not a great deal.’
‘I’m in much the same boat,’ said the Commander. ‘At a pinch–’ The noise outside interrupted him. Someone was shouting from below in Italian. The Commander went to the door opened, it, and listened.
The noise increased in volume. Three people were now shouting.
‘I think,’ he said, ‘that someone’s got stuck in the lift. It’s such a ropey old contraption that I usually try to avoid using it myself. Once it does stick, there’s only one way to unstick it. I shall need help. Quiet, all of you!’ This was bellowed down the stairs, and had no effect at all. Muffled sounds were issuing from the lift.
‘Elizabeth, you go down to the next landing. What you’ve got to do is press the button there at exactly the same time as I press the button here. Tina, stand half-way down the stairs and give her the signal. And for God’s sake stop howling down there. Tutto è sistemato. Everything’s under control. Right Tina. When I drop my hand. So.’
There was a click, and the outer door of the lift slid open. The Commander saw a middle-aged lady, dressed in a tweed coat and skirt and brown square-toed shoes, and carrying a green umbrella. The patrician face reminded him of someone, but he could not, for the moment, place it.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘I’m glad someone’s succeeded in opening that terrible door at last.’ The door took instant exception to this comment, and started to shut. The Commander jumped forward and grabbed it.
‘Better get out whilst the going’s good,’ he said.
‘I quite agree with you,’ said the lady. ‘Are you Commander Anthony Basil Comber?’
‘I am.’
‘And these are–?’
‘Miss Elizabeth Weighill, and Signorina Zecchi.’
‘Excellent,’ said the lady. ‘Precisely the three people I had planned to meet. Should we go inside? My name, by the way, is Broke. Felicia Broke.’
When they were seated, Miss Broke assumed charge of proceedings in the brisk way in which, Elizabeth felt sure, she had chaired countless Women’s Institutes and Parish Councils. She said, ‘When I read a very brief account in the Daily Telegraph of what Robert had got himself involved in – I realized at once that he would be in need of financial assistance. As Tom Proctor may have told you, with a misplaced sense of chivalry Robert diverted the family money to me. I had really no need of it. It piles up in my bank account and forces me to pay a ridiculous amount of tax. However, it may now come in useful. I have opened a credit of a thousand pounds at the Banco di Napoli here. There is more if it is needed. But that should be enough to start with.’
‘Indeed, yes,’ said the Commander. ‘But how did you do it? I mean – Exchange Control regulations–’
‘I was given to understand that there were some regulations. I went to see the Governor of the Bank of England. He agreed that this was a crisis, and the restrictions must be waived.’
‘And there was no difficulty,’ said Elizabeth.
‘None at all.’ Miss Broke switched her attention to Elizabeth. Her light blue eyes were unnervingly like Robert’s. ‘Five minutes talk, and the thing was fixed. I have found that men of intelligence usually see my points quite quickly. I had rather more difficulty with your father. I don’t imply by that that he is lacking in intelligence. But he seemed to me to be a particularly obstinate man.’
‘He’s all of that,’ agreed Elizabeth.
‘I pointed out to him that he had a clear duty. As British Consul he was charged with the welfare of all British subjects. His personal feelings did not enter into the matter at all.’
Put her in charge of the Navy, thought the Commander. We might still have a few aircraft carriers. ‘What did he say?’
‘He started to talk about procedure and the laws of evidence. Unconvincing stuff. I told him that I never thought the day would come when I should hear a British Consul preaching the virtues of Italian law. Well, that’s really all I came to say.’
She rose to her feet. The others rose with her.
‘I’ve given instructions to the bank to honour your signature, Commander. I shall be here for a few days and shall hope to see you again.’
‘If you could tell us the name of your hotel–’
‘I am not at an hotel. I am staying with my old friend Alice Plant. I will wish you good day. I think I won’t chance the lift. I’ll use the stairs.’
‘If, as I understand is the case,’ said the Sindaco with a grin, ‘you now have unlimited wealth at your disposal, then your problem, although still difficult, is not insoluble. There are a number of lawyers in Florence who would be prepared to ignore the caveat of their professional organization. In the first place, because Avvacato Toscafundi is not universally popular. Secondly, because he is an avowed supporter of the Social Democrats which brings him into disfavour with the parties of the left. The difficulty will be to avoid wasting your money on someone who will take the cash and do nothing for it.’
He considered the matter, smoking his pipe. Outside in the street a loudspeaker van rolled by, blaring out election slogans.
The Sindaco arrived at a conclusion. He said, ‘He is not what I believe you call “everybody’s cup of tea”. But I think the man for your money is Riccasoli.’ He scribbled something on a piece of paper and pushed it across at the Commander. ‘That is his wife’s telephone number. Mention my name, and she
will put you in touch with him.’
It seemed to the Commander to be an odd way of contacting a solicitor, but he pocketed the paper and was on the point of leaving when the Sindaco said, ‘I am conscious that I have not, so far, been as helpful to my friend Roberto as I could have wished. I have been very much engaged in these elections. When they are over I shall be freer to help. And possibly, if the elections go well, in a better position to do so. I have, however, been able to take certain minor steps which, even if they do not directly help Roberto will, at least, annoy his opponents.’
‘I’m sure you’re doing all you can,’ said the Commander.
Avvocato Riccasoli kept no office hours, for the good and sufficient reason that he had no office. The Commander’s rendezvous with him, arranged through his wife, was at a fashionable teashop in the Piazza della Republica.
‘He will be occupying,’ his wife had said, ‘the table in the corner, behind the door. He will be drinking a cup of chocolate, with cream in it.’
He was also, the Commander discovered, eating a chocolate cake with cream on it. He was a small man, with bright inquisitive eyes and a flattened yellowish nose.
‘So pleased to meet you, Commander,’ he said. ‘Sindaco Trentanuove has told me about you, and about your friend’s difficulties. Do you mind if we do not discuss them for just five minutes. I wish to listen to the music.’
There were three performers. The pianist was a middle-aged woman with iron-grey hair. The men were younger. The Commander recognized the piece they were playing. ‘Mozart’, he said, when the applause, vigorously led by Riccasoli, had subsided.
‘From the overture to La Finta Giardiniera. A minor work. It was the execution which interested me.’
‘You are a performer yourself, perhaps?’
‘Indeed. I was originally trained as a concert pianist. Unfortunately there was not enough money in it. I had to abandon it, for the law. That woman has a real touch, don’t you think?’
‘She plays very well. Do you know her?’
The Etruscan Net Page 15