Page 18 of Murder at the Ponte Vecchio (Armstrong and Oscar Cozy Mystery #11)
She didn’t appear to have any doubts, but I wasn’t so sure.
Still, setting aside my suspicions for now, I continued.
‘If it’s not one of the asylum seekers, who do you think it might be?
I imagine quite a few people come in and out of the theatre every day.
Could it be one of your actors, your other staff, cleaners or just somebody else who wanders in from the outside? ’
She shrugged. ‘I can’t imagine for a moment that it could be one of our people but, you’re right, anybody can walk in if they like; security is very lax.’ She stopped and corrected herself. ‘Or rather, security is non-existent. We can’t afford any.’
I took a good look at her as she stroked Oscar, who had rolled over onto his back on her lap with all four paws in the air, tail wagging, a blissful expression on his face, and I made a decision.
‘I’m sure you’re aware that I normally charge for my time, but I’d like to help you.
I did a bit of acting at school a long time ago and I feel sorry you’re having to go through this.
The fact is that I don’t think there’s a lot I’m going to be able to do for you.
I don’t have access to police files to check for any previous offenders and, besides, there’s no guarantee it’s the same person doing all the stealing.
There could be different people wandering in and out and helping themselves.
What I would suggest is that I come with you now to the theatre, take a look around, and see if I can think of anything that might help – prevention rather than cure.
I won’t make any charge for that. I’d rather you saved your money for your shows. ’
She reached across the table with her free hand and caught hold of one of mine. ‘You’re a good man, Signor Armstrong. Thank you most warmly. You’re right, we need every cent just to keep the lights on.’
She eased a reluctant Oscar off her lap and down onto the floor again. When she stood up, I saw that she was almost as tall as I was and quite a lot broader in the beam. Woe betide any sneak thief that she caught.
We emerged from the café into the relatively fresher air of the street.
The theatre was only a couple of hundred metres away from here and normally, I would have just left the van where it was and walked, but, because of the kind of down-at-heel area this was, we climbed in and I drove along to the theatre, parking as close to the entrance as possible.
I turned off the engine and glanced sideways at Zebra.
‘The fact that you chose to meet me in the café, was that because you do suspect it might be somebody on your staff or among the actors after all? Were you trying to keep my identity secret from them?’
She hesitated and then nodded reluctantly. ‘Yes, I suppose that’s what I was trying to do, although I still find it hard to believe that one of our people might be behind these thefts. But, of course, now they’re going to see you, and I’ll just have to tell them who you are.’
‘I know this will be a difficult question for you, but now that it appears that you might have your doubts about your actors or staff, is there anybody you consider to be suspicious? Is there anybody you’ve mentally earmarked as a possible thief?’
‘We don’t have many staff. We have a technician who does everything from lighting the performances to fixing the toilets when they overflow.
There’s our PR manager, who also doubles as our accountant and ticket seller, and there are a couple of part-time cleaners.
I suppose it’s just possible that one of the cleaners might be the culprit, but it feels so awful even to be considering it. ’
‘Are all four staff members here at the moment?’
‘Yes. We have a dress rehearsal later today for our next production, which opens on Saturday, and we’re doing our best to get everything ready. I hope you being here doesn’t spoil the atmosphere.’
I thought quickly. ‘There’s no need to tell them that I’m a private investigator. If anybody asks what I’m doing wandering about, tell them I’m your long-lost cousin Dan from England, here for a few days, and you’re just showing me around. How does that sound?’
She smiled happily. ‘That sounds like an excellent idea, Signor Armstrong.’
I smiled back and shook my head. ‘No, not Signor Armstrong. I’m Cousin Dan, remember?’
‘Of course. Welcome, Cousin Dan. By the way, how very rude of me – I haven’t been formally introduced to your furry friend.’
‘He’s Oscar and he’s very pleased to meet you, Zebra.’
I spent half an hour wandering around the interior of the theatre, surreptitiously scribbling in my notebook.
I had quite enjoyed drama class when I was at school and getting behind the scenes in a theatre – albeit a far from wealthy one – was fascinating.
Backstage, there were piles of pretty obviously scavenged timber and a roll of canvas, no doubt used for making scenery.
Behind the stage was a wardrobe room that smelt not unlike the changing rooms in the police gym, and I noticed that even Oscar didn’t stick around in there for long.
I met gangly Dario, the jack-of-all-trades technician, and Camilla, the accountant who was also responsible for PR.
I couldn’t help smiling when I was introduced to her.
Apart from the name, she couldn’t have been any more different from the current Queen of England.
She was tiny, stick thin, and one of those people who appear so nervous, they rarely dare to look up from their shoes.
Somehow, however, I couldn’t see this as a sign of guilt and I mentally dismissed both her and Dario from the list of likely suspects.
This left me with the actors, but they wouldn’t turn up until later on, and the two cleaners, both black women.
Their reaction to seeing Oscar was initially one of mistrust until he wandered across, tail wagging, and soon won them over.
They appeared to be doing a very industrious job, but communication with them was extremely difficult – at first. Neither spoke more than a few words of Italian, and Zebra had to introduce me as Cousin Dan in halting, broken French.
To my surprise, when the older of the two women heard me described as the cousin from England, she switched to fluent English.
‘My sister lives in England and that’s where we’re headed. She’s been living in London for the past five years and she says it’s a wonderful place.’
Probably because of my former job, I don’t look on Britain’s capital city through the same rose-tinted glasses, but it was good to hear somebody singing the country’s praises for once.
I complimented her on her English and she told me she’d been a teacher of English in the north of the Central African Republic until she and her husband had had to flee the country, one step ahead of a band of vicious militia fighters.
She introduced me to the woman alongside her as Vanda, her sister-in-law, and introduced herself as Amélie.
She told me her husband was currently working on a building site not far from the theatre while she and Vanda worked here until they could get together enough money to continue their journey north.
She was charming, articulate and I really couldn’t see her stealing a packet of cigarettes from anybody.
Her sister-in-law, on the other hand, had a more furtive look about her, but that might just have been natural shyness.
Finally, I sat down with Zebra again and gave her my list of recommendations.
These were mostly practical: put bolts on all outside doors and keep them locked, don’t leave stuff lying around, earmark one room for more valuable things and keep it locked as well.
As far as the common area where most of the thefts had taken place was concerned, I offered her the loan of a motion sensor camera for a week or two and she accepted the offer gratefully.
I told her I’d drop it around and set it up for her later in the day, and then it was time for me to leave.
I shook her hand, wished her well, and dragged my reluctant dog away from his new best – and very colourful – friend.
On the way back to the office, I discussed with Oscar why I was being so kind to Zebra when I had so much other stuff to occupy me.
Maybe it was because Oscar clearly thought she was the best thing since sliced bread – or, in his case, any food – or maybe it was a nostalgic nod to my days of amateur dramatics at school all those years ago.
Of course, I suggested to him as I picked my way through the traffic, maybe it was just because I was a nice guy.
The only response from him was a cavernous sigh and a thud as he settled down for a quick nap.