Page 42 of Murder on an Italian Island (Armstrong and Oscar Cozy Mysteries #12)

Anna’s apartment is on the second floor of a sixteenth-century building less than a hundred metres from the bridge, and I found her with the ironing board set up in the middle of the living room.

As Oscar trotted across to greet her, I realised that the garment she was ironing was none other than my new, very expensive suit.

When I lived in the UK, I only ever used to buy most of my clothes from Marks & Spencer or the like, but since being partnered with an Italian, all that had changed.

Determined that I should look my best for tonight’s party, Anna had marched me into town a week ago and had chosen an admittedly very smart, dark-grey suit for me, but when I’d seen the price, I had come close to making a run for it.

Still, I’d told myself, it probably was time for a new suit, although the opportunities to wear it here were scarce.

Work clothes for me nowadays were definitely casual.

After years of collars and ties at Scotland Yard, the change had been liberating.

Tonight, on the other hand, promised to be much more formal.

‘ Ciao, bella. Thanks for ironing the suit, but surely it didn’t need it.

I haven’t worn it yet.’ After her being married to an Englishman for twenty years and having lived in the UK, Anna’s English is better than my Italian, so we normally speak English together.

This afternoon, she answered me in Italian and I knew her well enough by now to realise that this meant that she was feeling stressed.

‘You’re back at last! You said you’d be home at three. Do you realise we have to be at the restaurant in less than two hours’ time?’

I checked my watch and saw that it was just after four. As far as I was concerned, that was plenty of time to get ready, but I didn’t say that to her. Instead, I headed for the kitchen and answered in Italian.

‘How does a cup of tea sound?’

Oscar followed me into the kitchen, where his nose immediately pointed at the cupboard where his biscuits lived.

Anna’s voice followed me. ‘Yes, please, but don’t make it too strong.’

After years of the Scotland Yard canteen, I’d grown used to tea strong enough to take the enamel off your teeth, but since meeting Anna, I’d had to change my ways.

I made a mug of weak tea for her and a mug of slightly stronger tea for me, gave Oscar one of his bone-shaped biscuits and headed back into the living room. As I did so, I remembered the tigers.

‘As I was walking here I met somebody who knows you. Does the name Dr Amy Mackintosh mean anything to you?’

Anna looked up from her ironing and her expression was hard to read.

On the one hand, there was surprise and pleasure, but on the other was something else, and I struggled to identify it.

As somebody who had spent his working life trying to analyse people’s reactions, this was a tricky one.

It took me a few moments before I thought I’d managed to narrow it down to a mixture of embarrassment and pain. Why, I wondered, might that be?

I listened with interest as Anna responded. ‘Amy? Well, well, well, I’ve known her for years. She teaches in Edinburgh. What’s she doing in Florence?’

I told her about the tiger costumes and Anna’s expression lightened – a little, but there was still that discomfort.

My curiosity increased, but I thought it best to let Anna tell me all about it in due course – rather than now when she was already a bit stressed.

I was pleased to see her reach for her phone so, whatever it was that was troubling her, it hadn’t stopped her from speaking to the Scot.

‘Give me her number and I’ll give her a call. Shall I ask her to come tonight?’

‘If it’s okay with you, it’s okay with me so go ahead and invite her.

By all means.’ She made the call and a five-minute conversation ensued, during which I was relieved to hear her sounding fairly normal and not strained.

I was also pleased to hear her suggest that the tiger costume might not be quite what was wanted for tonight’s event.

I sat back on the sofa and did my best to stop wondering what might have been behind Anna’s unexpected reaction at hearing Amy’s name.

I took refuge in fiction and, as so often, I let my imagination take over and I was already envisaging a tiger-clad academic floating face down in a fountain and another escaping from the police down the autostrada at ninety miles an hour when Anna’s call ended and she came over to sit beside me, rousing me from my musings.

‘Right, she’s coming.’ That strange, uncertain look was still on her face, but I saw her make an effort and return to the more pressing matter of what I was going to be doing this evening. ‘Now, do you want to go over your speech one more time?’

I didn’t really, but it probably made sense to do as she said so I launched into it while she sat back and nodded approvingly.

Her approval was probably less for my delivery than for the content, most of which she had been responsible for writing.

Although I’ve done a fair bit of public speaking in my time, I’ve never been terribly keen on it – especially in a foreign language.

I got to the end of it and looked over at her.

‘Will that do? It doesn’t come across as too boastful, does it? It’s only a whodunnit, after all, not an acceptance speech for a Nobel prize.’

She reached over and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. ‘It’ll be fine, Dan. I’m sure they’ll love it.’

I hoped she was right, but it was too late now to pull out of it. Instead, I found myself wondering yet again why she had reacted the way she had. It promised to be an interesting evening in more ways than one.