Page 27 of Murder at the Ponte Vecchio (Armstrong and Oscar Cozy Mystery #11)
WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON
When Virgilio dropped me back at the office, I tried phoning Zebra again, but without success, so I decided to drive over there to see her. If all went well, while I was there, I would also be able to find out the surname of handsome Tiberio, boyfriend of the mayor’s daughter.
When I got to the theatre, there were very few cars or scooters to be seen and I hoped Zebra hadn’t gone off somewhere.
The front door was locked, but the side door I had urged her to keep locked at all times was predictably open.
Oscar had already worked out that he was on the territory of his new best friend and he trotted in, tail wagging.
I followed him into the auditorium but found nobody.
The stage was also empty except for a load of timber and a carpenter’s workbench but, again, there was nobody about.
I checked the other rooms one by one until I finally reached the room we had designated as the one where anything valuable had to be kept.
It came as no surprise to me to see the door half-open.
The surprise was what awaited me inside.
Oscar disappeared into the room and I pushed the door fully open to reveal Zebra sitting by the table with my very happy dog trying to climb onto her lap – but she didn’t look anything like as happy as he did.
In fact, she was crying, and from her red eyes, it was clear she’d been crying for quite some time. I hurried across to her.
‘Zebra, what’s the matter? Has something happened? Oscar, leave the lady alone.’
She looked up and wiped the back of her hand across her tear-stained face.
Without a word, she pointed to her phone, lying on the table.
I went over and tapped the screen to find myself looking at a photo of a man with his hand in the pocket of one of the coats hanging on a row of hooks.
I recognised the room as the actors’ common room where we’d positioned the spy camera, and there could be no doubt about it: the thief was none other than Paolo with the scruffy overalls, the actor who couldn’t be bothered to learn his lines.
I pulled up a chair and sat down alongside her. By this time, Oscar had realised that she was unhappy and had also positioned himself beside her, placing a big, black paw on her lap in a show of canine solidarity. I gave her another minute or so to collect herself before I spoke.
‘That’s Paolo in the photo, isn’t it?’ She nodded mutely and I went on. ‘Have you spoken to him yet?’
She nodded again, reached for her tissue, and blew her nose before speaking. ‘Yes, he came in shortly after I spoke to your secretary on the phone. I was still furious, then I really let rip at him.’
‘And what was his reaction?’
‘He burst into tears. He cried like a baby and gradually told me all about it. He confessed that he’s developed a serious drug habit and it’s taking every cent that he has.
He told me how terribly sorry he was – and I believed him – but he said he couldn’t help himself.
’ She wiped her eyes again and looked up at me.
‘I know a thing or two about drugs and I’m surprised I didn’t realise sooner that he had a habit.
Of course that’s the reason he keeps forgetting his lines.
I know how addiction can change a person, but the fact is that I can’t keep a thief in the company and I made that clear to him.
I gave him the name of somebody who helped me to quit my habit, and I’ve told him to give her a call.
He went off in tears, and I’ve been crying ever since. ’
I tried to be as supportive as possible and to keep it light. ‘My grandmother always used to say that the answer to all of life’s problems is a good cup of tea. Why don’t I go and make you one? In fact, I’ll make some for both of us.’
She nodded and even managed to produce a hint of a smile. I left Oscar with her to add his support and by the time I came back with two cups of tea, the tears had stopped, although she was clearly still deeply troubled. I handed her a cup and decided to address the elephant in the room.
‘What happens about the play? You’ll have to find a last-minute replacement, won’t you?’
‘We’ll have to cancel. There are a couple of girls who could help out, but we need a man and I don’t have one.
There’s no alternative…’ Her voice tailed off dejectedly.
‘And it was going to be the first ever performance of Ultimatum . To make matters worse, this will mean giving back the money we’ve received for advance tickets and I’ve already had to spend quite a lot of it. ’
‘Surely there must be somebody who can step in.’
She shook her head. ‘I’ve been sitting here phoning all the actors I know, but none of them can make it at such short notice…’ Her voice tailed off and she suddenly looked up at me. ‘Wait a minute, didn’t you say you used to do a bit of acting?’
Even Oscar raised his head at that and shot me a curious glance. I was quick to start making my excuses. ‘That was forty years ago, Zebra. Besides, all the other actors are half my age. ’
‘Ah, but I wrote that part, the part of Cesare the mechanic, for a middle-aged man. You’d be perfect for it.’ She reached over and clasped my hand in hers. ‘You’ve already helped me so much, Dan, but if you do this for me, I’ll love you forever.’
‘But it’s all in Italian, and I’m English.’
‘But you speak such lovely Italian; you’ll be fine.’
There’s an Italian word for what she was doing – insaponare .
The literal translation is to soap somebody up, and it means that she was doing her best to charm me into accepting the part by plying me with compliments.
I had another couple of attempts at explaining why I was a poor substitute before I realised that she really had a very simple choice.
Either she cast an Englishman who hadn’t stepped onto a stage for over forty years, or she would have to cancel the whole thing, which, of course, had been her brainchild from its creation to its first ever performance.
I finally let her show me what the part entailed and I had to admit that there weren’t that many lines for me to learn.
Luckily for me, Cesare the mechanic was a man of very few words.
Grudgingly, I agreed to take a look at the script tonight and present myself for a run-through with her next morning and a final dress rehearsal on Friday afternoon.
‘All right, just to help out, I’ll do my best, but if I end up tongue-tied and the whole thing grinds to a halt, you have been warned.’
‘You’ll manage perfectly, I know you will.
’ She jumped to her feet and came over to shower me with kisses, leaving my Labrador looking positively jealous.
‘I’ll call Monica and Tiberio now to tell them it’s back on.
I was speaking to them just before you arrived and they were understandably bitterly disappointed.
They’ll be so happy when they hear that Cousin Dan has agreed to help out. ’
‘I hope they’re still happy when they see me on stage.
Hopefully, the audience will be blown away by their performances and they won’t notice the mistakes that I make.
’ This reminded me of the other reason why I’d come here this afternoon, so I asked as casually as I could.
‘Who are they anyway? Monica and Tiberio who? What’re their surnames?
I need to know for when they’re famous.’
‘She’s Monica Gallo and he’s Tiberio Carbone.
’ I could see that she was already thinking about everything she would now have to do to revive the play, so I didn’t interrupt her.
Instead, I just sat there and sipped my tea.
The tea had been a random supermarket brand and the only milk in the fridge had been that awful long-life stuff, but it was better than nothing.
I wondered idly if Zebra realised that Monica was the mayor’s daughter.
Gallo is a very common surname in Italy and it was possible that Monica had kept her family background a secret so as not to stick out like a sore thumb in this more plebian environment.
Certainly, Zebra had never even hinted at this to me, and when the mayor showed up in the audience on Saturday night, there was likely to be quite a surprise in store for her.
I had to wait several minutes before she looked up, that same little smile once more appearing on her face as she picked up her phone.
‘Dan, you’ve saved my life; the show must and will go on.
As Julius Caesar said as he crossed the Rubicon, “Alea iacta est” – the die is cast.’
I couldn’t help pointing out, ‘And we all know what happened to Julius Caesar, don’t we?’
‘It’ll be fine, Dan. You’ll be fine, I just know it.’
I wished I shared her confidence but, as she had said, the die was cast and I was in it now – up to my neck.
While I finished my tea and tried not to contemplate the terrifying prospect of drying up in front of the whole audience, Zebra phoned Monica Gallo and Tiberio Carbone and, from what I could hear, they were both delighted that the play was back on again.
By the time the call ended, a proper smile had returned to Zebra’s face and the first thing she did was to stand up, throw her arms around my neck and kiss me some more.
She then turned back to Oscar and did the same to him.
I was glad she had kissed me before she kissed him.
He does tend to stick his nose into some insalubrious places.
‘Thank you so much, Dan. You’ve saved the day.
And please don’t worry, I’ll be close by to prompt you if you forget your lines – but I’m sure you won’t need me.
’ I didn’t share her optimism but I decided not to spoil her mood.
Her depression had passed and she was looking excited once again.
I was happy for her and she was beaming at me.
‘Now I need to get hold of Dario and tell him to come back and get the scenery finished.’