by T A Williams
By the time she had completed all the formalities at the little police office inside the station, she was exhausted. She looked at her watch and was annoyed to see that she had wasted over an hour. Above all, she came out even more furious. The policeman, once he could be persuaded to interrupt his lunch long enough to deal with her case, had made it quite clear by his expression just how stupid he thought she had been. His only saving grace had been his kind offer, probably in response to the tears in her eyes, to let her use his phone to call the phone people before somebody started making calls to Australia at her expense. The tears were tears of anger at herself, but at least they had achieved something.
She went into an ice cream shop and bought herself a huge dish of chocolate and meringue flavour ice cream and a bottle of water. She sat in the air-conditioned interior and consumed it slowly, gradually calming down as she did so. Of course it wasn’t the end of the world. She had taken out travel insurance before leaving the UK, after all. It was the sheer stupidity of it, but there was nothing she could do about it now. Slowly, but surely, she regained her equilibrium.
It was almost three o’clock when she retraced her steps to the car rental office and picked up a smart little Cinquecento. This, at least, was what she had been expecting, and she began to feel a bit better about things. She set off into the near-stationary traffic, travelling at less than walking pace, slowly inching her way out of town.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar sight. Or rather two familiar sights; two familiar people. There, ahead of her on the pavement, going in the same direction as she was, but managing to do so faster than the cars, was unmistakably Paul Taylor. She recognised his blond hair, his clothes and she recognised his suntanned legs sticking out of his shorts. And alongside him was a woman. Almost certainly, it looked like Loretta. What was funny was that he had got his arm around her shoulders and she was hugging him affectionately around the waist.
Considering what Marco had told her, Paul and Loretta’s period as a couple had been some years previously. It now seemed very strange that the two of them should be back together and providing such a public exhibition of affection. Katie found herself very interested indeed and, if she were honest, just a little bit jealous as well; maybe even more than a little bit jealous. She continued to watch them as the line of cars was gradually outpaced by those on foot.
Then something amazing happened. From right in front of her, a car indicated and pulled out. She had before her that most precious of finds. She had been handed a parking space in the centre of Florence! Maybe, she thought with a wry smile, her luck had changed. She didn’t hesitate. She pulled in and switched off the engine. Collecting her bag, she jumped out and locked the car.
She told herself afterwards that she hadn’t consciously meant to follow them, but that’s exactly what she found herself doing. Staying at a discreet distance, she trailed them as they crossed the road and turned left, heading towards the river. As they turned side-on to her, there could be no doubt about it. The woman was definitely Loretta. At one point she reached up with her mouth and kissed him on the neck. She saw him hug her even tighter to him. Two blocks later, they were on the Lungarno Vespucci. As Katie cautiously rounded the corner after them, she was just in time to see them disappear, still in their passionate embrace, into an apartment block. She waited for a full minute then walked along to the door and saw a set of eight doorbells. Although she had no idea of Loretta’s surname, only one of the bells had a name alongside it with that initial; L Moretti. Katie filed the name away, determined to check the next time she saw Marco. He would be sure to know.
She turned and walked slowly away. So Paul Taylor had taken up with his old flame again. So what? she asked herself sternly. What’s he to me and what am I to him? It’s not as if anything at all has happened between the two of us yet. She carried on walking back in the direction of the car, her mind churning over the conflicting emotions she was feeling. In particular, she found herself wondering why she had added the word “yet” to her unspoken question. Still in a daze, she found herself back at the car before she realised it. Any further reflection, however, was swiftly interrupted as soon as she pressed the key and opened the driver’s door. Immediately, the car directly behind her on the road jammed on his brakes and flashed his lights, waving her out into the traffic. She jumped into the car and made haste to get away, leaving the invaluable parking space to another lucky occupant.
The drive back to Monte a Signa gave her time to reflect upon the events of the day so far. One of the complications of losing her phone was the question of collecting Vicky. Katie’s parting words to her had been to phone her when she needed a lift. That wasn’t going to be possible now that her phone had been stolen. Although she was loath to interrupt Vicky’s tryst with Filippo, she though the best solution would be to call in at the count’s house as she returned to the opera singer’s villa. That way she could fix up a time with Vicky when she could come and collect her.
It was almost four o’clock when she drove up past the gates to the Chalker-Pyne villa. There appeared to be even fewer paparazzi lurking around now, which boded well for a return home before too long. She carried on until she reached the count’s house. She squeezed the little car onto the verge directly opposite and climbed out. The gate was closed, but not locked. She pushed it open, walked in and up the short drive to the house. The pool was in the back garden and she headed straight there. She turned the corner and found herself faced with another unexpected and this time even more unwelcome surprise.
Vicky was lying on her back on a sunbed, her eyes closed. Bending over her was the count, wearing truly obscene black thong bathing trunks that exposed a frighteningly graphic amount of his hairy buttocks. Even more disturbing, however, was the fact that he appeared to have just removed the top part of Vicky’s bikini and was holding it in his hand. Katie squeaked. And then, after squeaking, she found herself screaming.
‘What in the name of fuck is going on here?’
Count Filippo jumped as if he had been scalded, the bikini top flying out of his hand. He leapt backwards, caught his foot against the leg of the sunbed and fell heavily onto his side. He let out an agonised cry as he hit the ground. Katie ignored him completely and ran across to Vicky. In spite of all the screaming and shouting, she hadn’t moved. She was unconscious. Vicky knelt down beside her and cradled her head. She was out like a light. Barely able to contain her fury, Katie turned to the man writhing on the ground.
‘What the fuck have you done to her, you bastard?’ She didn’t swear very often, but here was a situation that cried out for strong language.
‘I think I’ve broken my ankle.’ The words were barely audible among his groans. Katie had no sympathy.
‘I said, you miserable piece of lowlife scrum, what have you done to my friend?’ Her voice was loud enough to make him wince even more, but he made no reply.
She snorted and glanced back at Vicky’s face. She appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Beside the sunbed was an unopened bottle of water. Also beside the sunbed was a camera. She didn’t register the significance of that until later. She picked up the bottle, broke the seal and poured half of it onto Vicky’s face. After a few seconds, Vicky stirred and began to move. Carefully, Katie raised her head until she could pour some of the water into her mouth. Bit by bit, she emptied the bottle into her and, as she did so, she saw Vicky begin to revive.
‘Oh, hi, Katie. I must have dozed off.’ She sounded a million miles away. ‘What are you doing here?’ She was running her hands over herself. ‘And why haven’t I got my top on?’
‘I think you should ask that question to the bastard who drugged you.’
‘Drugged me?’ Victoria gawped as Katie retrieved the bikini top and helped her into a sitting position. Katie fed her arms into the straps and then reached behind to do up the clip. Vicky’s head was beginning to clear by this time. ‘What’s Filippo doing on the ground?’
‘Hopefully suffering
the fires of hell.’ Katie came very close to reaching out with her foot and kicking the count’s ankle, which by this time had swollen to the size of a melon. He was as white as a sheet and moaning incoherently. She returned her attention to Vicky. ‘Come on, let’s get you home.’ A thought occurred to her. ‘Just one thing, Vicky. I want you to try to remember this scene for me. Can you do that?’
Vicky nodded weakly. ‘Yes, I think so. What’s happened?’
‘You remember waking up with no top on?’ Vicky nodded. ‘Can you see this camera here?’ She nodded again. ‘Right, just hang on a moment while I see if he’d already started taking pictures before I arrived.’ She picked up the camera and managed to turn it on. A series of photos appeared before their eyes. Some were of Victoria’s face, very close up, but half a dozen were of her lying stretched out, naked breasts very much in evidence. She looked across at Vicky. ‘See these photos? Do you know what was going on here?’
‘Oh my God.’ Vicky sounded completely appalled.
After a bit of fiddling, Katie managed to locate the memory card and she removed it, slipping it into her pocket. She held the camera in her hands for a few more seconds, and then lobbed it into the pool.
‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’ She glanced back down at the writhing figure on the ground. She turned to Vicky. ‘I suppose we’d better do something about him. Where are your clothes? Have you got your phone?’ Vicky pointed over to the other side of the pool. There, in a pile, was Vicky’s disguise, including the enormous boots. Katie went over and retrieved them. In the trouser pocket she located the phone. She came back over and looked down at the count.
‘You’re not worth it, but I’m going to phone for an ambulance for you. What’s the exact address of this house?’ She had to shout at him a few times, but in the end she got through to him and received the information. While Vicky pulled on her jacket and stuffed her hair back into the straw hat, Katie phoned the emergency services. Mission accomplished, she helped Vicky to her feet, picked up the Wellington boots and accompanied her to the gate. After a quick look in both directions, they hurried across the road and she helped Vicky into the passenger seat.
They passed a couple of people as they drove back up the hill, but nobody gave any sign of recognition. When they reached the opera singer’s villa, they were able to slip through the gates unobserved. Finally back home, Katie helped Vicky inside, sat her down in the kitchen and set about making some coffee. It had been a momentous day. In spite of the heat, she found she was feeling cold. Presumably some form of delayed shock was setting in. She roused herself from her seat as the coffee pot started to bubble and ran upstairs to collect a pair of woolly jumpers.
Back in the kitchen, she wrapped one around Vicky’s shoulders and pulled the other one on herself. She poured two generous black coffees, toyed with the idea of adding a shot of Nando’s homemade grappa, but decided it was probably best avoided. She pushed Vicky’s cup across the table to her and added a word of warning. ‘Be careful, it’s very hot.’
‘Thanks, Katie.’ Vicky looked up, her face very pale. ‘I was just thinking. My father wasn’t so wrong after all, was he? What happened today was exactly the sort of thing he was so terrified might happen to me. I suppose I didn’t really think that sort of person existed outside the pages of books. Now I know. The world can be a perilous place, can’t it?’
‘Scary place or dangerous place, Vicky. Perilous went out with the dinosaurs.’ Katie did her best to keep it light. Inside she was still struggling to accept the gravity of what had happened and what might have happened to Vicky. She tried to put herself in Vicky’s place and imagine the welter of feelings that must be coursing through her. It was the stuff of nightmares. Vicky reached out and laid her hand on Katie’s arm.
‘And thank you so very much for coming along when you did. I shudder to think what might have happened if you hadn’t.’
Katie tried to banish her thoughts and did her best to keep her tone positive. ‘Well, at least having my phone nicked in Florence served a good purpose.’ While she explained what had happened, part of her mind was still amazed at the synchronicity of the day’s events. If she hadn’t lost her phone, Victoria might have been raped or blackmailed or both. Maybe even kidnapped! It didn’t bear thinking about, but she knew they had to. She caught Vicky’s eye. ‘So what do we do about our friend the count?’
‘Friend?’ Vicky shook her head in annoyance. Katie was pleased to see that she now had a little more colour in her face. ‘You were right again, Katie. There was definitely something not quite right about him.’
‘So, what do we do?’ Katie was doing her best to think it through. ‘Under normal circumstances you and I would be on our way to the police by now. The problem is this whole media, paparazzi thing. The more I think about it, the more I reckon it was Filippo, if that’s his real name, who sold the story to the papers in the first place. This afternoon was, in all probability, designed to get some naughty nudie pics of the debauched millionairess sunbathing topless or in the all together. Whether he would have gone so far as to assault you sexually or even kidnap you, I really don’t know.’ She looked across the table. ‘Drink some coffee. You need to wake right up and get whatever it was he gave you out of your system. Given that we’re trying to keep your whereabouts a secret, I don’t think there’s much we can do. What do you think?’
Vicky nodded her head slowly as she followed the instruction to drink. She gradually emptied the whole cup and, only then, did she look up. ‘You’re absolutely right. There’s nothing we can do without opening us up to a media scrum.’ She sounded deflated. ‘So he’s won, hasn’t he?’ Katie shook her head violently.
‘No, he bloody hasn’t.’ Victoria looked up as she heard the sharp note to Katie’s voice. ‘First, he’s broken his ankle. That should go some way towards teaching him a lesson, but more importantly, we know his game now. And we’ll ensure that everybody round here gets to hear about it. I wouldn’t mind betting that Nando’s reaction will be to head round there with a trailer full of manure and dump it on his precious Ferrari.’
Vicky was brightening up. ‘And we can tell Paul all about it tomorrow. He knows everybody on the hillside. He’ll see that Filippo gets the treatment he deserves.’
Thought of Paul Taylor reminded Katie of the other surprise she had received that afternoon. She decided not to mention anything about seeing him back with Loretta. Vicky had quite enough on her mind as it was. Katie also decided not to broach the subject with him the next day. After all, what he did in his private life was his concern, not hers.
Chapter Seventeen
Paul arrived on time next morning to pick them up. He was driving a rather smart 4x4, rather than his old Land Rover. Along the side were emblazoned the words, Taylor Olive Health. He flicked his thumb towards it. ‘I’m afraid the old Land Rover isn’t built for long trips. You’d end up with your backbone sticking out of the top of your head if we took the old girl.’ He looked around. ‘All set? Can we go?’
They climbed into the car, Katie in the front and Vicky on the floor in the back, with a blanket over her. ‘It’s all right, it’s only till we get past the gates of your villa. Then you can come up for air.’
As soon as they were safely on the road westwards and Vicky once more in a sitting position, they set about recounting the events at Count Filippo’s house the previous day. Paul was sickened and all for turning round and going back to, as he put it, show that miserable little rat what alternative use a billhook could be put to. The girls persuaded him to carry on with the trip, but he did get their permission to telephone one of his men and send him round to the count’s house to see what was what. The response came through less than fifteen minutes later. They all heard it on the loudspeaker.
‘He’s gone. Disappeared off the face of the earth. The Ferrari’s still there, but the front door was unlocked and there’s no sign of him or his belongings inside. The furniture’s still there, but the old man next do
or told me the house was rented furnished.’
Paul glanced across at Katie. ‘He’s broken his ankle, you said?’ She nodded so he gave instructions to his man. ‘Donatello, do me a favour. You’ve got a friend down at the police station, haven’t you? Give him a call, read him the car number plate and ask him to do a check. Say it looks as if it’s been abandoned. And get them to check the hospitals for a patient with a broken ankle, arrived yesterday afternoon. Thanks.’
They had already reached the scenic coastal highway when the reply came through. It was Donatello once more. ‘He’s just called me back. The number plates are false. The Ferrari was reported stolen in Lugano, Switzerland three months ago. They’re towing it away and they’re going through the villa with a fine-tooth comb right now. Apparently they traced our man to the Santa Maria Nuova hospital in Florence. He was admitted with a serious fracture yesterday, but discharged himself early this morning, stealing one of their wheelchairs. Apparently it’s a bad break so they don’t think he’ll get far.’
Paul thanked his man and turned to the girls. ‘Well, I think we can take it that the count, and I very much doubt if that’s what he really was, is bitterly regretting his actions. We’ve certainly done enough to ensure we never see hide nor hair of him round here again. And the main thing is, Victoria, your name doesn’t need to come into it.’
‘That’s excellent, thank you ever so much.’ Victoria hadn’t slept well the previous night, spending hours wide awake, mainly thinking about what had so nearly happened to her. She leant forward towards Paul. ‘I was wondering, do you think he rented that house in the hope that I would be coming over? Do you think it was a really well researched plan? I mean, if it was, that’s a bit scary really.’
Katie exchanged glances with Paul. Certainly, the same thought had already crossed her mind, but she hadn’t said anything, not wanting to frighten Vicky any more than she already had been. Paul was quick to reassure her. ‘No, nothing so Machiavellian, I’m sure. You’re not the only millionaire in our neck of the woods. The place is heaving with them. If you reckon that a small villa on the hill will cost a minimum of a couple of million Euros, and something the size of the one you are currently hiding in more likely upwards of five million, maybe even ten, you can see that there are a lot of folk in the area with lots of money. I’m sure you don’t need to worry that you were specially chosen.’
