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‘She’d love to meet for a chat, but only if we’d like to. How can we say no?’

‘We can’t. We’ll have to say hello.’

‘Say hello and perhaps get her to explain why, of all places, she decided to come to Venice.’ He hadn’t meant to sound flinty, but felt a nagging irritation that not even here, a thousand miles away, could they be free of village life. ‘She’s suggesting this evening – a drink at the Minerva bar. What do you think?’

‘Why not? It’s inevitable we would meet at some point. And the Minerva…’

‘We’ll be meeting Sally, not sleuthing,’ he warned, then caught Signor Trentino’s eye and said hastily, ‘Could you ring this number please and say we’ll be at the hotel at seven this evening?’

‘Of course,signore,’ the man said smoothly. ‘Is there anything else I can help with?’

‘Actually, there is, thank you. I need to make a telephone call – to England – and I’m not sure how best to do it.’

‘The hotel switchboard will be happy to help. If you would be so kind as to give me the number you require, I will ask thetelefonistato make contact and pass the call through to the telephone alcove. You will find it on the right, as you step into the garden.’

‘Excellent. We’ll wait there?’

‘It will take a little time, and if it is not possible to connect, I will send a man to tell you.’

But it was possible and quicker than Jack expected. They’d waited only a few minutes beside the alcove when the phone rang and Alan Ridley’s voice sounded down the line.

‘Jack Carrington! Aren’t you on your honeymoon, old chap?’

‘We are, Alan, but?—’

‘There’s always a “but” with you two. Don’t tell me that young woman you’ve married?—’

‘Flora,’ he interrupted brusquely, feeling the familiar annoyance that Ridley seemed unable or unwilling to use Flora’s name.

—‘Flora,’ the inspector continued stiffly. ‘Don’t tell me she’s got you investigating. Not on your honeymoon. Not in Venice!’

‘It’s a small thing only.’

‘It always is.’ Ridley was sounding unusually cheerful, Jack realised. Success in solving a difficult case, perhaps?

‘I wouldn’t bother you, only something’s come up.’ Don’t say it always does, he muttered inwardly. ‘A link between Venice and Sussex – in particular, a link with Abbeymead and Brighton. One of Sally Jenner’s friends – you’ll remember Sally, I’m sure, she runs the Priory hotel – one of her friends has returned home to Venice but worked for some time in Sussex. We wondered if perhaps the girl was mentioned in any police file.’

‘Why—’ the inspector began to ask.

‘Her name is Bianca Benetti,’ Jack said quickly, unable to explain why they were interested in Bianca’s stay in England. It was too complicated.

‘Benetti,’ Alan Ridley mused. ‘The name is ringing some kind of bell, though I’ve no idea why.’

‘If you could spare the time, can you check for me? It’s a minor thing, as I said, but it would help the holiday go smoothly.’

There was a pause, the inspector evidently thinking hard. ‘If I were you, Jack,’ he said at last, ‘I wouldn’t fret. Honeymoons rarely go smoothly, it’s a well-known fact.’

‘Really? Not that—’ Jack began, but instantly gave up any attempt to disabuse Ridley that the holiday was a disaster. Time was just too short. ‘There is another name you could look out for at the same time,’ he said hopefully.

‘You don’t want much, do you?’

‘The chap is called Franco Massi.’

‘How do you spell that?’

As he spelt out the name, he could hear the inspector scribbling.

‘OK, I’ll have a quick gander, but I’m not spending too much time on it. I’m off on a break myself in a couple of weeks. Broadstairs – d’you know it?’