Page 26 of Murder on an Italian Island (Armstrong and Oscar Cozy Mysteries #12)

I would like to be able to report that I had the strength of character not to allow myself to be tempted by the dessert menu but I told myself I was on holiday and, besides, falling into the sea and climbing back out again on a regular basis was surely burning off a healthy number of calories, so I opted for homemade apricot tart and ice cream.

By the time we reached the end of our meal, and coffees were served, I could definitely say that this had been one of the best meals I had ever had.

At my feet, Oscar was also sporting a satisfied canine smile after subjecting Lina to his most convincing Dan doesn’t feed me look that had resulted in him bagging a generous selection of titbits – plus, of course, some bits of pizza crust from me, as per our long-standing agreement.

After dinner, Anna and I took Oscar for a walk and, although I felt sure he would have loved a trip to the beach and the chance to go swimming again, the idea of sharing our room tonight with a soggy dog didn’t appeal to either of us, so we headed inland as far as the village and walked around the handful of narrow streets.

I could well understand how in a little place like this, everybody would know everybody, and the presence of a predatory character like Ignazio Graziani – or, indeed, his brother – would have aroused indignation or more in the whole community.

Once again, I wondered about the story of the attempted abduction twenty years earlier.

If locals like the barista or Rita couldn’t confirm it, then I tended to believe that it most probably hadn’t happened.

In all likelihood, it had been invented by somebody to embellish the exploits of the mob who had gone to old Signor Graziani’s house to insist that he banish his younger son from the island.

Although it was barely ten o’clock, the bar in the piazza was already closed and the dark streets were deserted.

Night had fallen, the temperature had dropped a few degrees, and I felt sure most people were hunkered down trying to get some sleep before yet another hot day tomorrow.

I did my best to switch off my detective brain for a few minutes and concentrated on absorbing the stimuli coming in from all around me.

Although we were here on an island and the book I was writing was set well inland, I felt sure I could include the flickering of fireflies in the branches of trees, the heady scent of wisteria and the distant hooting of an owl when writing night scenes in and around San Gimignano.

My editor was always telling me to be as descriptive as possible, so I did my best to soak up all the sounds and scents and try to find the right words to describe the interplay of the moonlight and the shadows.

The bad news was that my current problem wasn’t with description; it was with the plot itself.

I had a dead body lying at the bottom of a high tower and I had no idea who had caused the death.

I was hoping that the fact that this was not dissimilar to the Graziani murders would help me, but until we solved those, I remained stuck.

I was still thinking about this when we returned to the hotel and went to bed.

We were woken in the middle of the night by a flash of lightning that lit up the room, almost immediately followed by a clap of thunder that rattled the open windows and roused Oscar from dreams of swimming in the sea and prawn heads.

He got up from his position on the cool, ceramic tiles by the bed and padded over to rest his nose on the mattress alongside me, his eyes glowing green in the moonlight.

Outside the window, a torrential deluge came pouring down, sounding more like a waterfall than raindrops, accompanied by powerful gusts of wind that made the windows swing wildly.

I reached out and gave Oscar’s head a reassuring stroke while my mind inevitably returned once again to the two mysterious deaths.

Two highly unpopular brothers had been murdered in the same way within a few days of each other and everything was crying out to me to say that it had been the work of a single killer.

There had to be something that linked them, but what could that be?

I was still pondering this when the worst of the storm finally passed over us and the rain stopped as suddenly as it had started, although I could hear the wind continue to blow. I felt Anna stir and turn towards me.

‘How wonderful. It feels so much cooler.’

‘It certainly does.’ I rolled over towards her as Oscar subsided onto the floor beside the bed once more. ‘Well, how are you enjoying your holiday so far?’

She smiled. ‘I’ve just been lying here calculating that if I’d chosen a boyfriend with an interest in fashion, I’d probably have a wardrobe full of the very latest styles by now.

It seems to me that every time we try and go on holiday together, you suddenly turn back into a detective again.

’ I was about to apologise when she reached up and laid a calming hand against my cheek.

‘It’s all right, carissimo , I understand, really, I do.

The instinct’s stronger than you are, I know.

It’s just like Oscar chasing squirrels. It’s in your DNA and it will never leave you.

’ She gave me a kiss. ‘It’s a shame I haven’t ended up with a wardrobe full of beautiful clothes, but that’s life, and I wouldn’t want you any other way. ’