Page 32 of Murder on an Italian Island (Armstrong and Oscar Cozy Mysteries #12)
WEDNESDAY LATE AFTERNOON
I drove back over to see Anna at five. I parked in the shade and left Oscar in the van with the windows open while I went into the hospital.
To my delight, she was sitting up in bed, eating what looked like crème caramel.
There was even a bit more colour in her cheeks and my spirits soared.
My instincts were to go across to the bed and hug her tightly, but her damaged arm and surgical dressings to her head and face restricted me to just sitting down beside her and catching hold of her good hand in both of mine.
‘ Ciao , carissima , you’re looking better.’
She smiled. ‘And so are you. Did you take my advice and have something to eat and drink?’
Now it was my turn to smile. ‘Yes, very definitely – and Oscar got a bellyful of meat. Have the doctors said anything about when you can come home?’
‘They want to keep me in overnight to be sure that there are no after-effects but, hopefully, some time tomorrow morning, I should be discharged. I’ll need to keep my left arm in a sling for a few days, but they tell me I should be able to use it normally again in less than a week. How’s the investigation going?’
I gave her a quick summary of the latest developments and she looked mildly surprised. ‘So do you think it was Teresa who pushed me down that mine? I wouldn’t have thought she would have had the strength.’
To be honest, I’d been harbouring the same doubts, but I just gave her a few platitudes about the police knowing best and left it at that for now.
It then emerged that she had been starting to get a bit more clarity about the events of this morning.
She told me she could remember being in the field, seeing the doors of the shed open and going across to take a look inside.
Although she had no recollection of the blow to the head or her fall, she did come up with a fascinating snippet of information.
‘It may mean nothing, but I’m sure there was a flash of yellow, bright yellow, as I peered in through the doors. I’ve no idea what it was – it certainly wasn’t the sun – but I’m quite sure about it. It’s just about the last memory I have.’
I found myself leaning forward towards her. ‘You’re saying you saw something yellow. What sort of something?’
She snorted with frustration. ‘I just can’t remember. If I had to guess, I would say it was probably clothing, but I may be completely wrong. Hopefully, as my brain begins to clear and the memories start coming back, I might have a better idea.’
This was potentially very interesting, and I knew I needed to make an urgent call to the inspector.
He was currently interviewing Teresa Franceschini and when I had seen her first thing this morning, she had been wearing a bright-yellow top.
Was this the proof we needed that she had callously pushed Anna into the mine and left her to die?
I was allowed only ten minutes with Anna this time, so I sat with her and we chatted about all sorts, including the debt of gratitude she owed to Oscar and the meaty reward he had already received.
Finally, at exactly five-fifteen, a nurse appeared at the door and indicated that my time was up.
I gave Anna a gentle kiss and left the room.
As soon as I got outside, I headed for the van and opened the back door. Oscar looked out hopefully, but I had something to do before I could take him for a walk. I called Piero Fontana.
‘ Ciao , Piero. Sorry to disturb you, but I’ve just come from the hospital and Anna’s remembered something.’
‘Excellent. The doctors told us we couldn’t interview her until tomorrow. Anything significant?’
I related what Anna had said about the colour yellow and he gave a satisfied grunt.
‘I still have Teresa Franceschini here and I’m about to have another go at her.
I’m gradually making progress and she’s finally admitted that she and Aldo were having an affair, although she just referred to it as an “arrangement”.
Talk about cold-blooded! It’s patently clear that she was granting him sexual favours in the hope of getting him either to marry her or give her a share of the business.
When I say “business”, I’m still trying to decide whether that’s just the campsite or whether she and Aldo were in on the antiquities racket together.
It won’t surprise you to hear that she disclaims any knowledge of it.
This information about the yellow garment could potentially be a game changer. ’
I thought I’d better sound a note of caution. ‘Anna couldn’t swear that it was a garment. She just said she saw something bright yellow.’
‘Let’s see what Teresa Franceschini has to say to this. I’ll catch up with you and Virgilio later.’
I slipped my phone back into my pocket and sat on the tailgate for a few moments, wondering if Teresa would turn out to be the killer – and whether this was just Aldo’s murderer or the person responsible for both deaths.
The fact that she had finally admitted lying about her relationship with Aldo was significant and showed what a convincing liar she could be.
She had been quite adamant in her denials before, so maybe her claim of not having any involvement in the murders would also prove to be false.
I was still lost in my thoughts when Oscar’s hairy head landed on my lap and he looked up at me in supplication. I could take a hint.
‘Right, dog, let’s go and have a good long walk. Does that appeal?’
It did.
I drove back to the hotel and, on impulse, decided to go back up to the overgrown field to see if the police had been able to uncover any more clues.
The wind felt as if it was beginning to subside and as I crossed the windsurfing beach, Ingrid gave me a wave and mouthed the word, ‘Tomorrow’.
I eyed the waves apprehensively and hoped they would have calmed down again by the morning.
By now, the track up through the field was exhibiting the marks of the series of vehicles that had used it today, ranging from the fire-brigade jeep to the ambulance and several police cars, although all of them had long since left.
Police tape had been strung around the shed, the doors we had broken had been mended and secured by a hefty padlock attached to a solid, metal hasp, and a large, blue notice on one of the doors indicated clearly that this was a crime scene and access was forbidden.
There were no police officers to be seen, so I couldn’t ask what progress they might have made and, in consequence, Oscar and I set off again up the hill until we reached another good observation point three or four hundred metres further up.
In spite of the cooling breeze, we were both hot by now so we turned off the track and struggled through the vines towards a stunted, very thorny tree, where we could sit in the shade and rest.
Back down the hill from here, the view was stunning.
The rocky coastline of the island surrounded by the deep azure sea with the white water of the waves was like something out of a tourist brochure and even the overgrown field itself added a splash of colour to the dusty hillside.
It was immediately clear that the shed had been placed in an auspicious position.
The hillside definitely flattened out a bit down there and I could just make out the darker earth of the spring I had spotted the previous day.
To my amateur eye, it definitely struck me as a very sensible place for the forefathers of Elba’s present-day inhabitants to have built a settlement.
Maybe Stefano would be able to locate his long-lost mining community this winter when the greenery died back.
Had there even been a temple or some such here, which would have accounted for the statues?
I hoped he would find it. Even if I hadn’t yet solved the Graziani murder case, maybe I’d come up with something that might help his historical investigations.
I was about to leave the welcome shade of the little tree and start heading back downhill again when I heard a crunching noise behind me. I turned my head to see Fabio Morso, once again in full cycling gear, go shooting down the rough track on his mountain bike.
His bright-yellow mountain bike.
He was travelling at pace and concentrating on negotiating the rough track so he didn’t see Oscar and me.
I stayed in the shade of the tree and looked on as he bumped his way downhill until he was level with the shed.
At this point, he braked hard, skidding almost to a halt, before turning left and heading straight for it.
I saw him dismount and disappear around the back of the shed with the bike.
To my surprise, he didn’t reappear. I waited for about five minutes but there was no sign of him so, finally, I got up and started making my way down the track again.
When I came to the turn-off for the shed, I pulled out my phone and called Piero Fontana, but there was no reply, so I called Virgilio.
Keeping my voice low, I told him what I’d just seen and asked him if he could get a message to the inspector.
I told him that this could just be idle curiosity on the part of Fabio Morso, but I had a feeling there might be more to it than that.
Certainly, the flashy, yellow bike had stirred up a whole lot of suspicious thoughts in my head.
Virgilio sounded equally fascinated and told me he would make sure a message got through to the police and then he would come and join me.