Words Can Kill (Ghostwriter Mystery 5)

by C. A. Larmer

  Oh no, she thought, if she’s guilty of this, she must be working with someone. That was the only solution. There had to be someone else involved. She kept coming back to that.

  But who could it be?

  Giuseppe bid them farewell then and returned to the police wagon. They watched as it blasted short, quick sirens into the air, clearing tourists in all directions, before it began to wind its way back up the narrow cobbled road, Donald barely visible in the back, his head bowed low.

  Sofia turned towards Roxy. “I ’ave to get back to work now. You okay?”

  She nodded. “Thanks so much for all your help.”

  She shrugged elaborately, her ample bosom lifting and dropping, then made her way inside the restaurant as Caroline grabbed Roxy’s elbow.

  “I don’t know about you, but I need a strong coffee, badly.”

  Roxy was happy to be dragged along, this time to a small café on a narrow side street where they had never ventured before. It was little more than a hole in the wall and they settled into a tiny table at the back, glad of the privacy. It was well away from the madding crowd.

  “Lily-Anne won’t find us here either,” Caroline said and then frowned. “Although I wouldn’t put it past her! She’s already found me once today and it’s not yet,” she glanced at her watch, “ten.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. While you were taking your walk,” the way she said the word was full of recriminations, “I was having a coffee at the Marina, and who else would wander in but that dreadful woman.”

  “She’s not so bad.”

  Caroline snorted. “Your standards are dropping, sweetie. The woman’s a horror. Anyway, she seems to think you’re fabulous, too, because she asked me to tell you she’s meeting some Irish people for Happy Hour at Ted’s tonight if you want to join her.”

  “That was nice of her. Not sure I’ve got the energy though.” She wasn’t sure if she was ready to face Maria, either.

  “Of course you haven’t,” Caroline was saying. “Anyway, it’s not until 4:00 p.m., so if you change your mind, your new BFF will be waiting there for you with her sweaty husband, no doubt.” She quivered a little. “Now, Missy, you had better fill me in on what that crazy lunatic had to say for himself. What happened? Did he hurt you?”

  Roxy shook her head firmly. “He just wanted me to listen. He was pleading for his life.”

  As they ordered and then ate a breakfast of coffee and toasted ciabatta, Roxy proceeded to fill Caroline in on the conversation she and Donald had shared on the Via dell'Amore. When she’d finished, she said, “Donald reckons someone’s trying to frame him, and I wonder whether it could be Maria.”

  “What? So she can own an apartment she already owns?”

  “Only half owns.”

  “Oh for goodness sake. The woman’s obviously got her hands full as it is, more than she could want. She owns one of the top restaurants in town, Roxy, why on earth would she risk jail for half an apartment? Why would Donald think that? Oh, I know,” she began clicking her fingers together, “maybe the little weasel is lying! Ever thought of that?! He’s trying to throw the blame back onto Maria which makes me think he’s guiltier than ever.” She scoffed. “He really sucked you in, Roxy. You fell for his sob story.”

  This made Roxy bristle. She usually had great instincts, but they were all over the place with Donald. Why couldn’t she just accept that he killed his wife for the inheritance? Was it because she then had to accept he must also have done away with Max at the same time?

  “I just feel like we’re overlooking something,” Roxy said. “Or someone. I don’t know whether Donald did this thing, or whether or not Maria was involved. But I do know there had to be a third party. There’s no way it could all be pulled off without one.”

  “So who, then? Could it be Sofia? I mean, I know she ‘rescued’ you and all today, but still, she does have access to Max’s room. She could be working with Donald. Maybe those two were having an affair and plotted this together.”

  Roxy thought about that. “So why would Sofia call the police this morning, tell them where Donald was? She wouldn’t dob him in if she was working with him, surely? Besides, she’s also got an alibi on the day Candy died. Donald said she was at Ted’s that afternoon when he woke up in Maria’s bed. That was 3:00 p.m. There was no way she could have driven to Berlin and back by then.”

  Caroline’s eyebrows raised. “Ah yes, but that’s what Donald tells you. Maybe he was just giving her an alibi.”

  Roxy frowned. “Maybe. But surely the police have already looked into that. Ahhh! It’s all so frustrating. You know, it could be someone we haven’t even thought about.” She chewed on her coffee cup for a few seconds then dropped it back down with a clunk. “What about Maria’s husband!”

  “Husband? I didn’t even know she had one.”

  “That makes two of us, but apparently she does. Maybe this elusive husband helped her out. It would certainly explain a few things. Maybe, while Maria was throwing Candy to her death, the hubby was driving Jake back to Berlin where he killed him.”

  “Except that Donald told you and everyone who’d listen that Candy was going on her hike with a man that fateful day. A man. Sorry, sweetie, but last time I looked, Maria was a fully grown chick. Well, not fully grown. The woman’s almost a midget.”

  “Candy could have lied.”

  “Why would she? I mean, you usually lie about spending time with someone of the opposite sex, not the same sex, not your business partner. If she really did go for a walk with Maria, why wouldn’t she tell this to Donald? What’s to hide? Nope, I say she never said that to her husband at all because he was the one that accompanied her. I say, they both left Ted’s after breakfast together and went on that hike. He took a few photos, making sure to stay out of all of them, and, once they got to a secluded spot, he threw her over the edge. He’d probably already pinched one of Max’s shoes and chucked it over, too, so it’d look like Max had something to do with it.”

  “So how did Donald get hold of Max’s shoe? He says he didn’t even know him.”

  “How could he not!? There were pictures of Max all over Candy’s smartphone, for God’s sake. He must have seen them and become livid. That’s why he threw her over. Then, he returned to town and pretended to everyone that he’d woken up in Ted’s.” She began clicking her fingers again. “The cops are right, it would have been easy for him to slip through the back door and pretend to wake up in Maria’s bed. Problem was, Maria wasn’t buying it. She wasn’t playing ball so he could have an alibi.” She clicked her fingers again. “Maybe they really had slept together in the past and he thought Maria would defend him, but she’s obviously more honourable than you give her credit for!”

  Roxy scratched her head and then tried to massage her neck. She could feel a headache coming on. “Okay, okay, if that’s true, once more, I have to ask, where does all this leave Jake? Who killed him? And why?”

  Caroline’s cockiness did a nosedive then, her smile deflated, the fieriness in her eyes extinguished. She picked up her coffee cup and drank the rest of it in silence.

  *********

  The man looked across the room with a snide smile. “See, I tell you they go away! Now they have Donald in custody we can get rid of this one at last.”

  His partner was not so sure. “They still have the helicopters, they will still look for him.”

  He scoffed, waved a hand in the air. “No, it is not so much of a panic anymore. Now they find the shoe they are not so anxious. They will close the police office this afternoon and go back to La Spezia.”

  “But they will come back tomorrow again!”

  He grinned. “Which is why we get rid of him tonight.”

  Chapter 30

  Living with the constant fear that a loved one will show up dead does not erase the everyday monotonies of life, nor does the threat of being thrown over a cliff face. Sure, you lose your appetite for a while, you care less about appearance (unless, of course
, you’re Caroline) but eventually life goes on and hunger returns and you have to try to keep going. In turn, your clothes get dirty and need washing.

  So it was, at the end of such a stressful day, the two friends found themselves sitting side by side in a sweaty Laundromat watching an industrial sized washing machine go through the spin cycle.

  Earlier that day, after finishing breakfast with Caroline, Roxy had returned to the police station as requested. Giuseppe had gone back to La Spezia and there was a young policewoman at the front desk, waiting to take her statement before closing up shop. Once that was out of the way, Roxy made her way back to her bed, catching up on some much needed rest while Caroline sipped a bottle of Limonata on the sofa, flicking through yet another fashion magazine. Harper’s BAZAAR this time. Where she got them all from, Roxy never bothered to ask. At some stage Caroline must have gone outside to fetch some lunch—a baguette, some feta cheese and the reddest tomato she had ever seen—but she found it difficult to eat, still feeling shaken up by the morning’s events.

  It was only later that afternoon, as they attempted to freshen up and head out for an early dinner, that both women looked at each other and knew it was time to get practical. Thrusting their dirty clothes in plastic bags, they gathered their loose change and headed back outdoors. At the convenience store, they invested in a small packet of laundry powder and then found their way to the local Laundromat, which happened to be across the road from their apartment in a basement room below street level. Roxy marvelled that they hadn’t noticed it before, and wondered what real treasures this beautiful town possessed that had been lost to them in their single-minded quest to find Max.

  It was hot inside the Laundromat and every machine was on overdrive so they had to wait a few minutes for one to free up. They dropped their bags to the floor and sat to the side, Roxy attempting to clear her mind while Caroline took the opportunity to catch up on her social media.

  She illegally tapped into the nearby Marina Café’s Wi-Fi then logged into her Facebook site, yelping as the page came up. It was clear the word was now out about Max’s disappearance and she had been deluged with mixed messages of encouragement and despair.

  “There’s 262 messages on Facebook alone,” she told Roxy. “I’m too scared to look at Twitter.”

  “All about Max?”

  “Every single one. Oh, no, here’s one from Oliver, for you.”

  Roxy glanced up at her. “Oh?”

  “God, that’s a terrible picture. Does your agent never shave? And how many chins has he got now?”

  “Caro.”

  “Sorry, but really, it’s shocking. Okay, so he says he’s been madly calling your mobile and wants me to ask why you haven’t phoned.”

  “Because my old number’s useless over here, I’m using a different SIM card, of course.” Roxy tried not to think of all the messages her poor mother must have left on her old number as well.

  Caroline began tapping away. “I’ll tell him to stop being a stress head, that you’re perfectly fine and will be in touch when we find Max.” She stopped typing, sighed sadly then resumed typing again.

  As Caroline continued making her way through the messages, Roxy glanced out of the tiny barred window right at the top of the wall, which offered a small, dusty view of the street above. It was just starting to get dark outside and the crowds were thinning out as they did most evenings, the day-trippers heading back to their hotels or homes or wherever it was they all came from.

  She longed for her own home, then, for the apartment she once thought was tiny but now realised was spacious by Riomaggiore standards. She longed, too, for her sun-dappled office looking out over Australian gums and lush ferns. She yearned for her old laptop, her comfy lounge and her tiny TV set. But most of all she longed to speak to her mother and her agent, to tell them both that everything was okay.

  If only she could tell them that.

  Something on the road above caught Roxy’s attention and she squinted to get a better look as she watched someone walk past. That’s when it occurred to her: Someone else had disappeared unexpectedly last Friday, the same Friday Candy and Max had vanished.

  She’d forgotten all about that.

  Before she could give it more thought, Caroline was jumping up. “Free at last!” she said, striding towards a washing machine that had just finished its cycle, its roaring motor winding down as the door emitted a clicking sound. Caroline swung it open and began hauling the wet clothes out.

  Roxy was appalled. “You don’t want to wait for the owner of those?”

  “God no! We haven’t got time for that. Besides, it’s their own damn fault for deserting their laundry at the end of a busy day.” She placed the wet clothes on top of the machine then pushed her own gear inside. “Where’s your stuff?”

  Roxy stood up and emptied her laundry bag into the machine, then sprinkled some washing powder over the top. They counted their coins and placed six into the requisite slot, jamming it in and out quickly so the machine could start.

  After watching for a few seconds, Caroline said, “Cool, let’s get outta here.”

  “What, and desert our own laundry? At the end of a busy day?”

  Caroline ignored this and made her way back up the stairs and onto the street level again, Roxy fast behind. They looked around.

  “So what now?” Caroline asked.

  “I hate to say it, but I need to find Lily-Anne.” Caroline looked at her as if she were nuts. “I have two really important questions I need to ask her. Do you think she’ll still be at Ted’s?”

  She shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t care. I’m thinking I might just get takeaway and head back to the room. Not really in the mood for a lively restaurant tonight.” She blinked. “God, I never thought I’d hear myself say that!”

  Roxy smiled. Perhaps Caroline was finally growing up. “Do you think you can get enough takeaway for me, too? I won’t be long.”

  “Of course. I might even get some gelato as well. You know, we’ve been in Italy for days and haven’t even treated ourselves yet.”

  “Good idea. But first, can I ask you a huge favour?”

  Caroline shrugged. “If it’ll help find Max.”

  “I think it just might.” Roxy glanced at her watch, it was a few minutes before five. “While I talk to Lily-Anne, can you go back to the parking station as fast as you can? You need to talk to Aris again before he finishes work. If he’s already left, try and find him. He can’t be far.”

  Caroline stared at her, perplexed. “Okaaaaay,” she said. “What’s going on? Why do I need to speak to the parking attendant?”

  “Because we’ve all forgotten to ask the most obvious question.”

  “Which is?”

  “How did Jake get back to Berlin last Friday? Or, more importantly, with whom?” Caroline looked confused so she explained: “We know for a fact that Jake didn’t use Max’s car. It’s still there, right? So who took him?”

  “He could’ve used the train.”

  “Nope, he never would have got back so quickly on public transport. He had to go by car. Who was the driver? It couldn’t have been Donald or Maria, so who was it?” She shook Caroline by the shoulders. “This is really important. You need to ask Aris for a list of all the cars that left town some time last Friday morning and then returned after midday on Saturday.”

  “That’s a lot of cars, Roxy.”

  She held up a finger. “Here’s how you can narrow it down. We only want to know about the cars that left with two people on Friday, and returned with just one on Saturday.”

  “You think that was the person who killed Jake?”

  “Bingo!”

  As Caroline made her way to the parking station, glimmers of confusion still on her face, Roxy wound her way back down to the pier and towards Ted’s Trattoria & Music Bar. It was now early evening and the place was beginning to come to life again. The cocktail crowd were gathering in their flowing dresses and linen shirts, sipping creamy, bright
concoctions, their only care: what to order for dinner that night. Roxy could not see any of the usual staff—Maria, Valentino, Sofia—but she did spot a black man wielding a cocktail shaker behind the bar and two female waitresses, both looking a lot like German backpackers with broad shoulders and no-nonsense expressions.

  “Oh, Roxy, my darlin’!” came an American accent from the patio and she glanced around to find Lily-Anne, champagne glass in hand, sitting with Vern and the Irish couple.

  Roxy made her way over as John found her a chair.

  “I’m soooo glad you could join us, you must be desperate for a drink after your ordeal,” Lily-Anne was saying.

  “So you heard about that then.”

  “Of course we heard! How dreadful! You poor, poor pumpkin! Held hostage! And by a crazed murderer!”

  “Well, I’m not sure—”

  “Now, now, don’t you beat yourself up about it, my dear! That Donald Marlow had us all fooled, didn’t he, Vern? I never would’ve believed it of him, never in my life! I says to Vern, I says, ‘He seemed like a perfectly normal gentleman. A little funny looking, that has to be said, but perfectly normal.’”

  Beryl was nodding keenly. “Aye, he took us all by surprise, me dear. We’ve known him much longer, to be sure, and he always seemed so polite, and so devoted to Candace!” She glanced around furtively then lowered her voice. “I never would have suspected that he and Maria ...” She said the name with a hush and they all nodded fervently again.

  Roxy sighed. So that gossip had reached them, too.

  “I mean, I know Maria wasn’t exactly happy with Valentino, but still.”

  Roxy’s ears pricked up. “Valentino?”

  “Aye, her husband.”

  Roxy sat back in her chair with a small smile. That was her first question answered. Then she frowned as the reality of it sank in. “I thought he was just the hired help.”

  Lily-Anne burst into a fit of giggles and wobbled her chin at Roxy. “Oh that’s hilarious! Don’t let Valentino hear you say that! He’d be mortified! Of course, we all know who wears the pants in that relationship.” She raised her eyebrows a few times, mischievously. “She’s very bossy, that woman, and I can tell he just don’t like it. A man don’t like to be bossed about now, does he, Vern?”