Page 35 of Murder at the Ponte Vecchio (Armstrong and Oscar Cozy Mystery #11)

THURSDAY AFTERNOON

Inspector Faldo drove across the quarry floor until he reached me.

He switched off the engine before climbing out into the torrential downpour.

Apparently oblivious to the fact that his smart, light-grey suit jacket was rapidly turning dark grey, and the rain was flattening his hair and running down his face, he took two steps towards me and stopped.

I noticed that Oscar made no move to go forward and greet him, preferring to hug the side of my van, where he got a little shelter from the torrential rain that was hammering down on the vehicles with a noise like thunder.

‘Signor Armstrong, fancy meeting you here.’ There was no warm welcome in his voice – very much the opposite.

He looked and sounded decidedly menacing.

As the rain soaked through his clothes and plastered his jacket against his body, I could clearly see the outline of a pistol in a holster under his left arm, and I instinctively took a step closer to my van.

He held up a hand and wagged his finger at me. ‘You aren’t going to go off and leave me, are you?’ His voice hardened and I saw his right hand tense, ready to reach for the weapon. ‘First, I need you to tell me what brings you here. Curiosity, maybe? ’

By now, the rain had soaked right through my clothes and I could feel a small river running down my back, but that was the least of my worries.

I rapidly considered my options – and there weren’t many of them.

If I tried to run, I knew he could shoot me down in seconds and there was something in his eyes that told me he wouldn’t hesitate to kill yet another person.

That look, every bit as much as the dried blood I’d just found, convinced me that I was standing in front of a serial killer.

The death of a British private investigator would just add one more to his tally, and I felt sure he wouldn’t bat an eyelid.

My brain was working overtime, desperately trying to come up with a way out of this predicament, as I did my best to stay positive, trying not to reflect on what might be going to happen to me.

Flight was out of the question, so that left me with a choice of launching an attack or negotiating.

Although I used to box for the Metropolitan Police in my younger days and I’ve always tried to keep myself pretty fit, I knew that I would have my work cut out against a fit, strong man many years my junior, even if I were to manage to get the gun off him in the first place.

Shelving that option for now, I decided to try negotiation, and I did my best to produce a friendly smile.

‘Inspector Faldo, what a coincidence. I often come here with Oscar for a walk.’ An idea occurred to me. ‘He’s training to be a gun dog, ready to start retrieving waterfowl from the lake when the shooting season starts again. We’ve just come from there now.’

For a moment, I saw his expression relax but it didn’t last long. ‘Nice try, but we both know that’s a lie, don’t we? Whose idea was it to fill the cigar box with gravel? Was it yours or Pisano’s?’

Any doubts I might have had about his guilt were swept away in an instant .

‘Don’t worry, though. I found the spy camera and I destroyed it.’

My mind registered that he had used the singular when referring to the camera so, if he were to kill me, hopefully, there would still be evidence in the other camera to prove that he’d been looking in the cigar box.

This was, however, little comfort. For now, the more pressing thing on my mind was trying to come up with something that would prevent me from being killed. I tried pleading ignorance.

‘Did you say a cigar box full of gravel? I don’t understand.’

‘Don’t insult my intelligence, Armstrong. I know you were behind that.’ His right hand moved a few inches closer to his open jacket and I tensed even more. ‘So tell me, did somebody send in dashcam footage of my Land Rover or has Marco suddenly started remembering what happened?’

I knew that there was no point continuing to deny knowledge of what he’d done, so I tried a bit of bluff.

‘Both, Faldo, since you ask. The door camera on the property directly opposite Marco’s place has produced a beautifully clear image of the moment of impact when you tried to murder him.

He still doesn’t remember anything about the accident, thank God, but he remembers getting a phone call summoning him back to the office. ’

I saw him shake his head in annoyance. ‘I shouldn’t have done that, but he was getting too close.

I knew that sooner or later, he’d work it out.

He had to be silenced, but how was I to know that being hit by a Land Rover wasn’t going to kill him?

I can’t get to him now to finish the job so I have to get away.

How annoying.’ He made it sound as if it were Marco’s fault.

Certainly, there was no trace of pity or contrition in his voice.

This guy was a psychopath. This realisation did little to slow my racing heart.

I kept my eyes trained on his right hand, fully prepared to launch myself at him if he reached for his weapon but knowing, deep down, that it would probably be a futile effort.

We were about eight or ten feet apart, and by the time I reached him, the pistol would be in his hand.

I remembered the message I’d left for Virgilio.

I’d arrived here at the quarry at three and it was probably at least three-fifteen by now, maybe later.

If he’d listened to my message as soon as he finished his tennis lesson, it was possible he could get himself here by half past three so, for now, all I could do was try to buy myself time by keeping Faldo talking.

As he had freely admitted the attempted murder of Marco, I asked him about the diamonds.

‘Tell me something, Faldo: how long have you been running the conflict-diamond operation at Santa Maria Novella station?’ The rainwater was streaming down my face but I resisted the temptation to reach up and wipe my eyes, for fear that he might misinterpret the movement and pull out his gun.

As long as that remained holstered, I had a fraction of a chance of survival.

His expression changed to one of considerable surprise. ‘You know about that? How do you know about that?’

‘Somebody I met told me. He’s an asylum seeker and he sold some diamonds recently.

Did he sell them to you, or do you have a go-between?

’ I stopped and then continued as if I’d just worked it out.

‘Of course, you wouldn’t dirty your hands, would you?

It was Berg who collected the diamonds for you, wasn’t it? ’

To my surprise, he laughed. ‘Berg collected the diamonds for himself . It was his little racket. I wasn’t involved with him in the slightest. I only found out about him from an extracomunitario who was trying to sell some diamonds.

I got him to tell me who the buyer was. It took me a month, but I managed to track that man down and he told me that he passed the diamonds on to a man called Berg on the Ponte Vecchio. ’

‘And so you killed all three of them.’

‘Of course.’ The matter-of-fact way he said it made my skin creep. ‘The two Africans were no loss to humanity, and the old man in the jewellery shop was a crook.’

Doing my best to keep the disgust out of my voice, I brought up the subject of the other murder. ‘So why kill Jacobs? Did you think he had the diamonds?’

‘Berg told me he’d sold them to Jacobs, but he didn’t tell me that those diamonds were still in his own safe back home.

What sort of imbecile pays three hundred thousand for a box of jewels and leaves them in the vendor’s safe?

I felt sure Jacobs must have had them, but then it turned out he didn’t. ’

‘And when you found he didn’t have them, you killed him.’

‘What else could I do?’ Once again, he was able to make it sound like the most normal thing in the world.

He glanced around and I was bracing myself, about to launch myself at him, when he turned back again.

A sinister smile appeared on his face. ‘Go ahead and try, Armstrong; it won’t do you any good.

You’re an old man now, and you know I can take you even without a gun. ’

My ex-wife often said I was a strange character, and I have to admit that she probably had a point.

In spite of the threat and the very real likelihood of my untimely demise, I found myself far more bothered by the fact that he had called me old, than by what might be about to happen to me.

Considering that I’d just about run out of options, I decided to call his bluff.

I did my best to adopt a sneering tone. ‘You, take me? I know old ladies who could beat you in a fair fight.’

That same manic smile appeared on his face. ‘Yes, right, and you’re one of those old ladies, I suppose.’

‘Put your money where your mouth is. Drop the gun and let’s fight it out as men.’

The sinister smile turned into an even more sinister laugh. ‘“Fight it out as men”? Just listen to yourself. This isn’t a corny movie, Armstrong. No heroics for me. You’re going to die and that’s that. You see, I have no choice.’

‘Why do you have no choice?’ My eyes were fixed on his right hand, waiting for any sign of movement. My nerves and sinews were stretched to breaking point.

‘You know too much, you see. It’s your own fault.

If you hadn’t come snooping around here, you would never have seen me again.

I’m off to pastures new.’ He stopped and produced that same sinister laugh again.

‘But it’ll give me great satisfaction to settle accounts with you, you meddling fool.

The moment I saw you here, I knew what I needed to do.

You really shouldn’t go sticking your nose into other people’s business, you know. ’

‘What business would that be, Faldo? The diamond business or the psychotic serial-killer business?’

I saw him tense and a twitch appeared at the side of his mouth. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was going to kill me now, and my only hope was to get him so angry, he might make a mistake.

We stood there in silence for several seconds, the rain still pouring down and the tension between the two of us reaching as far as Oscar.

Although I didn’t take my eyes off Faldo’s right hand for a second, I heard Oscar produce a rare growl.

He could tell there was something wrong.

Fortunately, Faldo also heard it and he shot a fearful sideways glance towards Oscar.

Taking advantage of Faldo’s momentary lapse, I threw myself desperately towards him.

His eyes turned back and his hand was already disappearing into his jacket when, wonderfully, help in the shape of a soaking-wet, black Labrador came to my rescue.

Having sensed the tension in the air, Oscar launched himself towards Faldo, producing a totally out-of-character visceral snarl as he did so.

This diverted Faldo’s attention long enough for my outstretched arms to reach him and grab his right hand before he could draw the weapon.

Even better, Faldo, seeing himself attacked on two fronts by two adversaries – one of whom was exhibiting a gleaming set of teeth – took a step backwards, slipped on the soaking-wet ground, and fell backwards into the mud with me on top of him.

His right hand was gripping the handle of the pistol that was halfway out of its holster while both of my hands desperately scrabbled for possession of the weapon.

He landed heavily on his back, followed a split second later by my knee into his solar plexus with the full weight of my body behind it.

I gave him a punch to the face, putting as much venom into the jab as possible, and had the satisfaction of seeing his head jerk backwards into the muddy ground.

His body went limp for a moment and I was able to tear the pistol out of his grip without difficulty.

Beside us, Oscar was growling fiercely but rather spoiling his performance by wagging his tail furiously as he did so.

It looked as though he was having a wonderful time.

Faldo, on the other hand, appeared far more frightened of my normally docile pet Labrador than of the pistol now trained at his face.

I glanced at the weapon and saw that it was a standard Beretta nine millimetre semi-automatic without a safety catch.

Just so he could be under no misapprehension, I deliberately cocked it and held it closer to his face.

As I did so, I heard a vehicle approaching and out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed Virgilio’s Alfa splashing through the puddles towards us.

I didn’t take my eyes off Faldo for a moment and I leant towards him.

‘So who’s the old lady now, Faldo? Here’s the commissario . He’s going to arrest you for multiple murders, and I hope you never see the light of day again.’ I heard running feet approaching but I still kept my eyes on Faldo and the automatic pointed firmly at him.

‘ Ciao , Dan. I hope you realise you’ve made an awful mess of Inspector Faldo’s suit.

’ Virgilio’s voice was heavy with irony.

‘Oscar, get off. You’re almost as muddy and wet as your master.

’ He came into my eyeline and I saw that he was also holding a pistol trained at the man on his back in the mud.

‘Faldo, I want you to roll over onto your face and put your hands behind your back. If you want to make me a happy man, try putting up a fight. There’s nothing I’d like more than to empty this pistol into you. ’ There was raw anger in his voice.

I knew how he felt.