Family Business

by Michael Z. Lewin

  Angelo said, ‘Did Walter give you no hint at all that he was going away?’

  ‘None,’ Rosetta said. ‘Why?’

  ‘It just doesn’t quite sound like him, that’s all.’

  ‘How does a twisted, scaly, two-headed snake usually sound?’

  ‘He’s always seemed so, well, fussy about how things are done. Was this letter he sent handwritten or typewritten?’

  At this Rosetta gave a snort. ‘What are you asking? Did he write the letter himself? Was Walter kidnapped? I think you need some rest, Angelo. I think the job’s getting to you.’

  ‘Maybe. Maybe.’

  ‘Take a holiday. Why don’t you go somewhere? With your wife. Make another baby.’

  ‘Can I afford it?’ Angelo said.

  ‘Not if you buy all that new computer equipment,’ Rosetta said with a smile.

  Angelo raised his eyebrows, but the computer thing was settled, there was nothing more to say. ‘So, I can’t make you tea. What did you come about?’

  ‘There’s a man,’ Rosetta began.

  ‘That was quick,’ Angelo said quickly.

  It was meant light-heartedly and Rosetta strove to take it that way, but despite her intentions she reddened.

  Angelo saw, and Rosetta saw that he saw.

  ‘Well, well, well,’ he said.

  Rosetta covered her face with her hands but then, knowing how that looked, she took her hands down again. However the colour was inescapable. She turned away, then she turned back. ‘This is ridiculous,’ she said. ‘It’s nothing. It’s business.’

  ‘OK,’ Angelo said. ‘What business?’

  ‘A man is coming here to show you some equipment.’

  ‘He’s showing me his equipment?’

  ‘Stop!’ Rosetta said.

  Angelo laughed.

  ‘This equipment,’ Rosetta persisted, ‘is not computers.’ She was about to explain what the equipment was when someone knocked on the office door.

  ‘Maybe this is him,’ Angelo said. ‘Pink. It’s a good colour for you.’

  Rosetta moved to the door saying, ‘He sells other things it might be good for us to own. He said he’d come today or tomorrow. I just wanted to let you know, that’s all. I didn’t get a chance last night. OK?’ Rosetta opened the door.

  Standing outside was Mrs Shayler. Neither woman expected the other. Rosetta was startled, but Mrs Shayler was frightened.

  When Rosetta realized the visitor’s fear, she took Mrs Shayler’s arm and helped her into the room and on to the settee.

  ‘Ta very much,’ Mrs Shayler said. ‘Oh dear. How silly of me.’ She fanned herself with her hand.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Rosetta asked.

  Mrs Shayler didn’t answer.

  Angelo said, ‘Can I make you a cup of tea?’

  Rosetta said, ‘Angelo believes in teatherapy, but I’ll call a doctor if you want me to.’

  Mrs Shayler said, ‘I’m so sorry to intrude on your consultation. Please excuse me.’

  Angelo said, ‘This is my sister, Mrs Shayler. Rosetta’s also a member of the firm.’

  In a faint voice, Mrs Shayler said, ‘How do you do?’

  ‘Are you all right?’ Rose asked.

  ‘All right?’ Mrs Shayler said. She lifted her hands to her face. ‘My whole world is collapsing.’

  At one o’clock Angelo locked the street door and crossed from the Lunghis’ business building into the adjoining property that completed the family complex. Together the two three-storey buildings provided ample space for the household, even with the ground floor of each let out as a shop.

  Angelo went to the kitchen to make himself lunch. As he did so he noticed the bottle of washing-up liquid sitting behind the taps of the sink.

  Most Lunghi dishes were washed by machine now but the plastic bottle still sat on the window sill. Delicate china and things of awkward size and shape were hand-washed.

  Sitting as it did in a convenient yet unobtrusive place, the plastic bottle did not seem to have the potential for malevolence or distress. Yet Angelo realized that even he sometimes used dish-washing liquid in acts of deception. Like when he washed a plate to destroy the evidence that he’d eaten something he didn’t want Gina to know about. A last profiterole late at night, for instance.

  Angelo’s musings were interrupted by the telephone.

  ‘Angelo Lunghi.’

  The caller was Charlie ringing from the police station. ‘We have nothing on either a Jack or a John Shayler at the address on Walcot Street or anywhere else in the city. And I went up to ask the fraud boys and girls about Whitfield, Hare and O’Shea, but it’s not one of the accountancy firms they associate with dodgy dealings. They want to know if they should add it to their list.’

  ‘Not as far as I know,’ Angelo said. ‘The name came up, that’s all.’

  ‘Pity,’ Charlie said. ‘So, are all these blanks I’ve drawn good news or bad?’

  ‘Too early to tell,’ Angelo said and then he asked Charlie about his family.

  But Charlie said, ‘I can’t jaw-jaw. We’ve got a new bloke here and he’s got his beak into everything. Well, I say “new” but he used to work here and then he left. Thought we’d seen the last of him.’

  ‘Is there something wrong with him?’ Angelo said.

  ‘Not if you like your CID detectives old-fashioned. But he hates computers, and he’s suspicious of us who operate them. So I’m being careful for a while. If this bloke does decide to throw his very considerable weight around I want to make sure he lands on somebody else.’

  ‘He’s overweight?’

  ‘I think that’s fair to say.’

  ‘So, how’s his cholesterol?’ Angelo asked.

  Charlie’s call was the only interruption to Angelo’s lunch break. He had rather expected to see Rosetta, but she did not appear. And Gina’s court case had clearly not been adjourned—as they often were.

  Nor did Mama and the Old Man come down from their flat. Sometimes they came down and sometimes they didn’t. Angelo never knew why each decision was made and he didn’t ever ask. Thinking about it now, he became aware that it was rather like Mrs Shayler saying she couldn’t possibly ask Jack why he hadn’t put the washing-up liquid away. There were unwritten, unspoken rules. Every family had them.

  After putting his lunch dishes in the dishwasher, Angelo crossed back to the office and went down to unlock the street door. There was nothing on the outside to indicate fixed opening times. As well as the agency name, the plaque on the door gave the telephone number. Little of the Lunghis’ business came unannounced off the street. Most work came by phone and fax and most was from regular clients. Visitors to the office were common, but almost always they came by appointment.

  So when Angelo unlocked the door from the inside, he was surprised that it was immediately opened from the outside. A man stood on the pavement. ‘Mr Angelo Lunghi?’

  ‘Yes.’

  A broad smile filled the man’s face. He was large, carefully coiffed and wore an expensive suit. About thirty-five, he sported two gold rings on his right hand. Angelo noticed the rings as the man extended his hand for a shake. ‘Adrian Boiling,’ the man said. ‘Pleased to meet you. I believe your sister is the lovely Rosetta. She suggested I drop in to show you some of the best surveillance equipment you’ll ever have the pleasure of examining.’ In his left hand Adrian Boiling carried a large black sample case.

  Gina appeared in the office a few minutes past four. ‘He was fined a grand, got eighteen months suspended, and has been enjoined from coming within a mile of her or the kid or the kid’s school. They all behaved so well you wouldn’t believe it, which made for the most boring day I’ve had in weeks. How have things been here?’

  Angelo began with Rosetta, intending it to lead, as it had historically, to Mrs Shayler. But the recounting of Adrian Boiling would not wait.

  ‘I don’t know what’s taken hold of Rose’s senses,’ Angelo said. ‘This Boiling talked as if it was a foregon
e conclusion that I’d have something off every page in his catalogue.’

  ‘So what did you do?’ Gina asked.

  ‘I didn’t buy anything,’ Angelo said. ‘But he pushed and pushed for me to test things. “We’re sure if you try us you’ll like us,”’ Angelo mimicked. ‘“So we make it a company policy to offer free trials.”’

  ‘Of what?’ Gina asked.

  ‘Telephone bugs. Directional microphones. Compact tape recorders. Cameras. Concealed video recorders. Stuff kept coming out of his case. I suppose it proves just how micro the new equipment is these days. I expected him to produce a car that unfolded.’

  ‘Poor Angelo,’ Gina said, amused.

  ‘I explained that we rent what we need, but Rose must already have told him that because he whipped out sheets of paper filled with numbers. Suppose this. Suppose that. He’s decided we can’t afford to do it the way we have since Papa began and that it’s a miracle we’re still in business. Gina, what do I do? How could Rosetta get me into something like this?’

  ‘What did she get you into?’

  ‘He left a catalogue and an order form and his home phone number in case we want to ask questions out of business hours. He’ll ring on Friday. He’ll come back in person in a week. And we have a seven-day free trial of a telephone bug,’ Angelo said. ‘Because of Rose we’re tapping our own telephones. And Adrian Boiling swears that once we’ve heard the clarity of the tapes, we’ll never want to use anything else. It was excruciating.’

  Gina cradled her tea and shook her head sympathetically. She kicked off her shoes and put her feet on the low table.

  ‘Rose is my sister,’ Angelo said, pulling the plate of biscuits away from Gina’s feet and taking a rich tea in the process. ‘What am I supposed to do?’

  ‘Be careful what you say on the telephone,’ Gina said.

  Angelo dunked the rich tea resignedly.

  ‘Tell me about Mrs Shayler,’ Gina said.

  ‘Ah,’ Angelo said. ‘Mrs Shayler.’

  But before he could begin to report their new client’s second visit, they both heard the street door open. Somebody ran up the stairs.

  With a sigh Gina reshod her feet. Angelo stood up. The office door was thrown open. A flaxen-haired woman in her early twenties ran in. ‘Is this the Lunghi Detective Agency?’ she asked Angelo angrily.

  ‘Yes,’ Angelo said.

  ‘Well, just what the hell do you think you’re playing at?’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘She was beautiful,’ Gina said. ‘Slim, busty, a lovely tan and she looked wonderful in simple clothes, a plain white shirt and a full blue denim skirt. And she was so angry with your father that it gave her a kind of glow.’

  Marie felt envious. David said, ‘What had Dad done?’

  ‘Well he denies everything, but he would, wouldn’t he?’ Gina said. ‘Could you pass the butter please, Rosetta?’

  Rosetta passed the butter silently, and waited for a chance to ask if Adrian Boiling had called in to see Angelo.

  ‘My secret life,’ Angelo said, spreading his hands. ‘You try to keep all the women happy, but sometimes …’

  ‘Dad!’ David said.

  ‘Wires get crossed … The women get cross …’

  ‘Dad!’

  ‘But she was gorgeous, wasn’t she?’ Gina said.

  ‘I only take on the world’s most spectacularly beautiful women,’ Angelo said.

  ‘What had Dad done?’ David asked.

  ‘What am I supposed to have done?’ Angelo asked calmly in the face of the raging beauty.

  ‘It’s three pubs I know about for certain, and who knows where else!’ the woman said. ‘You’ve got no right! Already people are asking if I’m in some sort of trouble. They think I’m a criminal!’

  ‘My name is Angelo Lunghi, and this is my wife, Gina. There’s tea in the pot. Why don’t you let me pour you a cup while you sit down and tell us what the problem is?’

  ‘What’s your name, dear?’ Gina asked.

  The angry woman seemed baffled by her reception. She said, ‘Kit Bridges.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ Angelo said. ‘Do you take milk? Sugar?’ He moved to the teapot.

  ‘Doesn’t my name mean anything to you?’

  ‘Should it?’ Gina asked.

  ‘Well, if it doesn’t, why have you been showing my picture in pubs? Why have you been telling people it’s about something so serious you can’t give details?’

  ‘You’ve been showing her picture around?’ David said. ‘What case is it, Dad?’

  ‘None that I know about.’

  Uncertain whether his father was teasing, David said, ‘Mum?’

  Gina shook her head.

  ‘But I don’t understand,’ David said.

  ‘What else is new?’ Marie said.

  ‘You’re so clever,’ David said. ‘What’s it about?’

  Marie looked at her brother disdainfully, but then saw that the adults were expecting her to speak. She said, ‘Who’s been showing her picture?’

  ‘A man. In pubs,’ Gina said.

  ‘And he says he works for us?’ Marie asked.

  ‘He says he is a private detective,’ Gina said.

  Rosetta said, ‘But we’re the only detective agency in Bath.’

  ‘Exactly!’ Angelo said. ‘And that is therefore making Ms Kit Bridges, part-time fashion model, conclude that the man works for us.’

  ‘So who does he work for?’ David asked. ‘One of the Bristol agencies?’

  ‘We don’t know,’ Angelo said.

  ‘What pubs has he been in?’ Marie asked.

  ‘Three that she knows about,’ Angelo said. ‘The Rose and Crown in Larkhall, the Anchor off Kingsmead Square, and the Star.’ The Star, at the top of Walcot Street, was the neighbourhood pub the Lunghis favoured.

  ‘But he may have been to other pubs too,’ Gina said.

  ‘Why does he want to find her, this detective?’ David asked.

  ‘Ms Bridges says she can’t think of anything a detective could possibly want to talk to her about,’ Gina said.

  ‘So she’s not married?’ Rosetta asked. then blushed.

  ‘No. Not even a steady boyfriend. She says she puts all her energy into her career.’

  ‘Does she make a lot of money from modelling?’ Marie asked.

  Gina said, ‘She must make some. The man has been showing a photocopy of a picture of Ms Bridges that was in a magazine.’

  ‘And she’s so gorgeous,’ Angelo said.

  ‘Dad!’ David said.

  ‘If she came to you, that means the detective hasn’t found her,’ Rosetta said. ‘So how does she know he’s looking for her?’

  ‘She has a friend who works part-time behind the bar at the Rose and Crown,’ Gina said. ‘The friend recognized the picture, but didn’t tell the detective she recognized it.’

  ‘Why not?’ Rosetta asked.

  ‘Because he wouldn’t say why he was looking for Ms Bridges,’ Angelo said. ‘Then today the friend and Ms Bridges had lunch together. When the friend told her about the detective, some people they were with said they’d heard that someone was looking for her too. That’s how she found out he’d shown her picture in the other pubs.’

  ‘If it were you,’ Rosetta said, ‘what kind of case would it be for you to show a photograph in pubs?’

  ‘Good question, Rose,’ Angelo said. He looked to Gina. He said, ‘If we were looking for a drinker. Or a no-fixed-abode. Or someone who’d just moved here.’

  ‘A runaway?’ Gina said. ‘Or a druggie. Maybe a fence.’

  ‘A musician?’ Marie said.

  ‘Could be,’ Gina said. ‘But nothing that sounds like Ms Kit Bridges.’

  ‘So what are you going to do?’ Marie said.

  ‘Do? Do? But who’s the client?’ Angelo asked, mimicking his father. ‘So who pays? You don’t run a business if nobody pays.’

  Marie giggled.

  ‘But,’ David said, ‘it’s not good if pe
ople think this detective is one of us, is it?’

  Angelo agreed. ‘That’s why we think we need to find out more about it.’

  ‘Is there anything I can do?’ Marie said impulsively, attracted by pubs and modelling.

  ‘Like what?’ Angelo said.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Marie said. ‘There might be something.’

  ‘She thinks she could be a model,’ David said. ‘For horror comics, maybe.’

  ‘Your father melted, melted when this woman said, “Oh, can you really find out what’s going on, Mr Lunghi?” And you should see the smile on her. It was like a toothpaste ad!’

  ‘I’ve always had a weakness for a good set of choppers,’ Angelo said.

  ‘Have you rung Salvatore?’ Gina said.

  ‘Not yet. I’ll do it now.’ Angelo rose from the table, but then he hesitated. He turned to Rosetta. ‘We thought Salvatore might be happy to go out tonight and ask around for this detective, but if you’d rather do it, Rose …?’

  ‘Me? Go to a lot of strange pubs?’ Rosetta said. ‘On my own?’

  Meals on Wednesday evenings were informal and consisted mainly of foods that only needed heating. Eating was completed more rapidly than at the ‘big’ meals and David and Marie, in particular, usually left the table quickly. It was therefore not unusual that Rosetta should find herself alone with Gina. She said, ‘Did Angelo mention whether a surveillance equipment salesman called into the office today?’

  ‘He called,’ Gina said.

  ‘Oh,’ Rosetta said. Then, ‘Is Angelo buying anything?’

  Gina said, ‘Do you want us to buy something?’

  ‘If you need something,’ Rosetta said. ‘I’m sure it’s good equipment.’

  ‘The salesman’s a bit of a hunk, I gather,’ Gina said.

  ‘Is he?’ Rosetta asked. ‘I suppose he is, if you like them chunky.’

  Walter was chunky. Gina said, ‘Where did you meet him?’

  ‘In the business computer shop. He runs that too.’

  ‘Alan Boiling, is it?’

  ‘Adrian,’ Rosetta corrected.

  ‘Have you gone out with him?’

  ‘Of course not!’ Rosetta said. ‘It’s nothing like that.’

  ‘It’s not illegal,’ Gina said.