‘What the hell are you talking about?’ asked the magistrate.
‘The cellar. Where Alina is.’
‘I am going in there – unfortunately,’ said the magistrate, ‘but there is no reason for you to set foot in there again. Haven’t you had enough?’
Blume folded his arms, set his feet pointing away from each other, and squared his shoulders. She knew that position, and what it represented.
‘That’s Alina in there,’ he said. ‘I have every right.’
‘You are not an appointed investigator, you do not operate in this district, you are on leave, you are also, I might say, ill, and I am the investigating magistrate. You are not going back in there.’
‘Try and stop me.’
‘Alec, please,’ said Caterina. ‘Don’t. Just, for once, don’t.’
‘Sorry,’ he mumbled to a point on the ground halfway between the magistrate and Caterina. ‘I haven’t been quite myself recently.’
‘Not a problem,’ said the magistrate. ‘Fuck it. After what you’ve been through. Here, let’s talk about something else. I was telling the Ispettore here about a phone number you called, happens to be the last one Silvana called. Now, of course, I know who it belongs to, but for the fun of it, let’s see if you know what I am talking about.’
‘When did I make this call?’
‘Two nights ago.’
Blume thought for a while, then said, ‘Yes, that makes sense.’
Caterina wanted to punch him. ‘Will you please tell me about this phone call, first? I think the magistrate would like to hear, too.’
‘Davide Di Cagno. Am I right, magistrate?’
The magistrate winked and pulled his beard. ‘Bull’s eye, first shot.’
‘I am being slow here,’ said Caterina, ‘but what’s he got to do with it?’
‘I phoned Davide and asked him if he was interested in reopening the case about Giuliano, his disappeared brother. His reaction was . . . mixed, I suppose,’ said Blume. ‘When the magistrate mentioned a call in common with Silvana, it suddenly made sense.’
‘She knew him? The younger brother?’ asked Caterina.
‘Looks like it,’ said Blume. ‘When she was in Rome, Silvana acquired a mysterious boyfriend, off the map. She had found someone where she was studying. An older man, according to Niki. I didn’t pay attention to it, but I think if we look, we’re going to find that’s who it was.’
‘I’ve looked already,’ said the magistrate. ‘He teaches economics at Rome Tre Univerity. After one year at Luiss, she transferred there and took his course. I haven’t worked out how, where, or when they met yet.’
‘I think he probably sought her out,’ said Blume.
‘So,’ said Caterina, ‘she became the lover of the younger brother of her mother’s lover? That’s . . .’
‘Fucking creepy,’ said the magistrate. ‘How did you work this out, Blume?’
‘I didn’t. I am guessing. But I think this Davide made it his business to contact Silvana and tell her what had really happened to her mother. It’s what I would do.’
‘You would? Jesus, Alec.’ Caterina shook her head. ‘So this Davide is the younger brother of her mother’s lover . . . Dear God,’ said Caterina.
‘Possibly her uncle,’ added Blume. He waited till they had worked that one out.
‘Why would he do that?’ said Caterina.
‘Not because she had a right to know, but because she does not have a right to happiness. It might be he waited till she was old enough, or maybe he just couldn’t take it any more. Certainly, it makes a good way of getting back at Greco and Niki.’
‘Spiteful prick, this Davide, if it turns out to be true,’ said the magistrate. ‘Which it will, given Silvana’s last few calls and the direction of travel.’
‘She wanted Niki’s money, first. Then she was going to leave him.’
‘Or kill him?’ asked the magistrate.
‘Or kill him,’ agreed Blume. ‘Maybe poison him, but poor Silvana is no Lucrezia Borgia.’
‘Poor Silvana?’ asked Caterina incredulously.
‘In a way,’ said Blume. ‘Davide was an older man. He probably bullied her psychologically. And then Niki and Domenico thought she knew nothing, but she knew everything. That would have fuelled anger, contempt, rage . . . then the accomplice in her mother’s murder, her fiancé and sort of older brother, starts getting starry eyed about a Romanian.’
‘It’s interesting what you are saying about Niki,’ said the magistrate. ‘I knew you were casting what seemed like wild accusations at Greco about murdering his wife in 1993 – that’s when the maresciallo called me in. So you’re saying Niki was involved?’
‘I –!’ Blume snatched his hand out of Caterina’s grasp. She had dug her fingernail deep into his knuckle.
‘Alec, you are all nerves. We had better get that seen to,’ she said, ‘you poor man.’
The magistrate fingered his moustache and regarded them. ‘You were saying, Commissioner?’
‘No, I think I’d finished whatever it was.’
‘But you think Niki was an accomplice in the alleged murder of Silvana’s mother?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Blume. ‘Maybe Niki never had anything to do with it. No way of telling now that Greco is dead.’
Caterina gave him a slow blink of approval.
‘If she goes to Davide’s,’ said the magistrate more to himself than to Blume or Caterina, ‘we’ll pick her up there, charge her with, well, help me here, Commissioner.’
‘Murder of Alina, obviously,’ said Blume.
‘You’re sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘Almost certainly as you say. Because, hold on . . . e che palle, where did I put that fucking . . . here we go. He pulled out a filthy notebook, flicked through what were evidently some children’s drawings, found the page he was looking for, and then turned the book upside down for them to read.
She knows, I told her. We need to meet. All 3.
‘That was a text message sent,’ said the magistrate, ‘to Alina’s phone.’
‘No one thought to check that out until now? She was reported missing, after all,’ said Blume.
‘You know how these things work or don’t work, Commissioner. I am not defending what was done, but, in fact, the phone was registered not to Alina but to Giorgio Moroder.’
‘Moroder. What was it he did again?’ said Blume.
‘I Feel Love,’ said the magistrate. ‘Donna Summer. Hottest fucking sex-kitten ever – oh, excuse me, Ispettore.’
‘No problem,’ said Caterina.
Blume was staring at the sky, still trying to remember. ‘Porco dio, what’s the song I am thinking of?’
‘Together in Electric Dreams?’ suggested Caterina.
‘That’s it!’ said Blume happily.
‘No one can accuse Niki of having no sense of humour,’ said the magistrate. ‘He registered phones under the names Grace Jones, Jean Michel Jarre, Jimmy Sommerville, David Bowie, Michael Jackson, Mr Bee Jee. These phones were distributed to various employees, used by himself – I’ll be getting the details later from the DCSA, if they deign to help me. All of which strongly suggests that he knew he was being monitored. I think we can say that Niki is not one of the good guys, right?’
‘Absolutely,’ said Blume.
‘Except,’ said Caterina, ‘if he knew phones were being monitored, he would not use a text from one to the other to set up a trap.’
That made sense, but it annoyed Blume all the same. What was it about Niki that made women defend him?
‘I agree,’ said the magistrate. ‘I think Silvana will have sent it, using Niki’s phone to lure Alina. She would have had access to it. So then we get a message from Alina asking when, and the reply tells her to wait. The next message to Alina’s phone is one of those smiley faces. Then at 9 p.m. Alina texts back asking where.’
‘Garden. Use SE entrance. That’s the last message ever to Giorgio Moroder/Alina. She came her
e, though, and in through the gate, up to the villa. Then it goes off network forever. Not even an IMEI number. So not just switched off, but battery out and phone destroyed. It would be good to know how stupid this Alina was.’
‘Not stupid at all,’ said Blume. ‘Resourceful, bright, brave. All she did, all she went through, only to end up like this.’
‘Not the type to go down a dark cellar on her own with an angry fiancée who had just found out? That doesn’t seem likely, does it? But Niki, on the other hand, she trusted him. What do you think, Blume? I like Niki as an accomplice here.’
Blume thought about it. At last he said, ‘I don’t like Niki, but I don’t think I am a good judge of character. It is possible Silvana and her father lay in wait for the girl, or just Silvana.’ He paused. ‘Silvana can be very persuasive. Deceptive. When you get her in for questioning, I would suggest –’
‘Excuse me?’ said Caterina. They both looked at her.‘This is your case, Magistrate. It is not the commissioner’s. Please stop asking his opinion.’
‘I am happy . . .’ began Blume before Caterina’s look stopped him.
The magistrate stuck out an accusing beard. ‘The commissioner is at the centre of all this and his insights . . .’
‘Exactly. Question him as a witness. Question him as a suspect, as you stupidly suggested. Do not treat him as an investigator. Can’t you see, you’ll pollute your own case if you invite him to participate in any investigative work or even speculation?’
The magistrate nodded vigorously. ‘Abbestia! You’re right . . .’
‘Now wait a minute,’ began Blume.
‘No, Commissioner, she’s right. I need to be directing this investigation without your input, except as a witness. You could lead me in the wrong direction.’
‘Deliberately, even,’ said Caterina.
The magistrate frowned at Caterina, then shook his head sympathetically at Blume, and shrugged his shoulders. ‘Seems like you two have a lot to work out. I need to question you, too, Ispettore. You arrived here with a suspect in your car . . .’
‘Not a problem.’
Blume sulked for a good five minutes after the magistrate left. ‘By the way,’ he told Caterina, ‘I forgot to mention that Silvana tried to bury me under a wall.’
‘You’ll have a chance to tell him that,’ said Caterina soothingly. ‘Care to expand?’
He brought her round to the side of the villa and pointed to a pile of rubble. ‘She pushed that on top of me. I know it was her. She almost got me, too.’
Caterina looked up nervously in case another piece of wall came down.
‘Put that in your testimony. Your witness statement.’
‘What’s the point? I may as well say nothing. It’s just a hassle, unless there is some objective evidence.’
‘Maybe there is, but it’s not your job to find it.’
‘What are you doing, Caterina?’
‘I am taking you out of this. I am helping you escape.’
He glanced up at the second floor from where the section of wall had broken off. ‘There might be proof in that room.’
‘Inform the Carabinieri, Blackbeard the magistrate. Don’t go up there. And let’s get out from under here.’
They walked a short distance, then he looked up again. ‘That was the nursery.’
‘You really studied that map of the villa well, didn’t you?’
‘No . . . That’s not it. Come over here, OK, now look up there, where the wall has collapsed to floor level. See?’
‘That pale thing? What am I looking at?’
‘An old rocking horse,’ said Blume.
Chapter 36
As they arrived at the garden lodge, they caught the sight of an ambulance leaving, lights flashing. It turned on its siren as it exited the gates and went wailing into the distance.
‘I saw the mortuary vans, the SIS boys in their white suits, didn’t I? So who needs an ambulance?’
‘You, if anyone,’ she said. ‘Come on, we can get . . .’ She stopped. ‘Do you know this man?’
Oh no, thought Blume.
Dr Bernardini was completely enchanté to meet Caterina. He tut-tutted upon seeing Blume. ‘Get this man some water!’ he shouted at no one in particular.
‘Dottore!’ said Blume, ‘we need to keep moving.’
‘We do?’ said Caterina. ‘Where are we going, Alec?’
‘Too rushed, mon Commissaire. That’s one of your problems. Impulsive.’ He bent down and messed around in his bag, a proper black doctor’s bag, and emerged with a stethoscope.
‘How’s the heart today?’
‘Fine,’ said Blume. ‘As always.’ He avoided looking in Caterina’s direction.
‘We wouldn’t want you spending another night with us.’
‘What are you doing here, Doctor?’ said Blume.
‘I was called out for Niki Solito. He had a hypoglycaemic attack. They should have just called the ambulance, but, well, I did that for them just after they called. I saw him. The girl who he was with, sexy thing, red skirt, zip-up sports top, shouldn’t work, but does? She had the wits to run into the lodge and get some fruit juice for him.’
‘One of Silvana’s concoctions?’ said Blume, moving closer to the doctor, trying to get the idiot to move backwards. ‘I am not sure that will do him much good . . .’
Caterina interposed herself between them. ‘ “Another night with us”, you said. “How’s the heart?” Doctor, I am his wife, and he has told me nothing.’
‘He told me he wasn’t married.’
‘I’m not,’ said Blume.
‘As if anyone has any reason to believe a thing you say,’ said Caterina, before leading the doctor out of earshot. When she came back, her expression was grim.
‘All right, Alec. The doctor has been telling me some things I should have known about. One of which is that you are taking a medicine that he does not trust. What was its name, Doctor?’
‘Lorazepam. I am not against it as such. It may even help a man such as your husband who worries a lot, but I don’t think he should drink, too.’
Jesus, thought Blume.
‘Is that it? Nothing else?’
‘Nothing,’ said Blume.
‘What about that sinus spray I’ve seen you use?’
‘That just clears my head, stops headaches before they arrive.’
She clicked her fingers impatiently. ‘Show it to the doctor.’
Bernardini took the flacon in his hand and shook his head sadly. ‘Alsuma. This is Sumatriptan. Who prescribed this?’
‘A doctor years ago.’
‘And you just kept at it. I asked you if you were on medication.’
‘I didn’t think it counted.’
‘Well, does it relieve the headaches?’
‘Not always.’ He had nothing left to lose really. ‘In which case, I take these and I stop caring.’
‘Lyrica,’ read the doctor. ‘Pregabalin,’ he said by way of explanation to Caterina, who nodded as if she knew exactly what this meant.
‘Come here, Alec, drink this water,’ said Bernardini, not unkindly. ‘Tilt your head back, OK,’ he started humming, ‘follow my finger . . . Very good. Très bien. OK, Alec, t´es pas tout seul, mais arrête tes grimaces, soulève tes cent kilos, fais bouger ta carcasse. . . . Non, Alec, t’es pas tout seul, je sais qu’t’as le cœur gros . . . Here, keep this bottle, fill it when it’s empty, drink as much as you can.’
‘These are my mother’s!’ Caterina had stuck her hand into his pocket and come out with a light blue box. ‘I recognize these. She takes them for that skin irritation. She was complaining about them going missing, and of course I wouldn’t even listen to her.’
‘I just took a pack because of my hives, or shingles. And they are not hers. I bought those by myself.’
‘Without a prescription?’ asked Bernardini.
‘There’s a place in Trastevere,’ said Blume. ‘They give you the benefit of the doubt if you show you have the m
edicine already.’
‘What hives?’ said Caterina. ‘You don’t have hives.’
‘I do now.’ He scratched his arm to prove it. ‘I think I’m allergic to my new memory-foam bed.’
‘Mon Dieu, Doxepin, too,’ said Bernardini, with something like admiration creeping into his voice.
‘And these?’ Caterina was holding up a small pillbox. ‘That’s Provigil,’ said Blume. ‘It’s good for staying up late and focused.’
‘You’re killing yourself, Alec,’ said Caterina.
‘Just keeping my head above water, Caterina.’
‘And that place you live in . . .’
‘Nothing wrong with it,’ he said. ‘I’m still settling in.’
‘Come here.’
He stepped over and she reached her hands behind his back and squeezed him against her. ‘You know I am furious with you?’
‘Quite right, too.’
‘Would you sell that apartment?’
‘Tomorrow.’
‘No one will buy it.’
‘I’ll give it away, then.’
The centre of gravity had now shifted towards the villa. Any new vehicle that arrived, parked with its nose pointing towards it, people looked towards it as they spoke. The magistrate gazed at its top storeys as he shouted orders into his phone, or whispered to a new group of plain-clothes arrivals. Still on the bench, the maresciallo dozed. No one saw Nadia slip away.
The magistrate was unworried about who was coming or going. He even seemed puzzled as to why Blume felt he had to ask permission to leave.
‘You’re available whenever, right?’
‘I want to go back to Rome.’
‘Yeah, like I said, available. Rome’s only down the road.’
‘It feels farther away.’
The magistrate chewed gum. ‘Yeah. When the fuck are they going to get here with food?’
Blume turned to leave.
‘Hey, Commissioner. They just picked up Silvana. Bari. Outside Davide’s place. I’ll let you know.’
Blume tapped his plastic water bottle against his temple by way of acknowledgement.
‘Nadia?’ said Caterina. ‘Where has she got to? Help me find her.’
Caterina felt Nadia might have gone down to the villa in the hope of catching a glimpse of the remains of her friend. ‘Not that she’ll have been allowed anywhere near. I’ll go,’ she said. ‘You’re haunted enough as it is.’
Bitter Remedy: An Alec Blume Case Page 26
