Page 17 of Murder in Portofino

They had stayed on their mooring throughout most of the day today and it had only been late this afternoon that he had finally brought his yacht into the harbour and moored up at the end of the quay. The two of them had come ashore for an early dinner in one of the quayside restaurants. Although it was clear that things had been going reasonably well between the two of them until the previous night, I got the impression that Heather had been having increasingly serious doubts over the past twenty-four hours about the longevity of their relationship, even before the two scary Arabic speakers had put in an appearance.

The more I listened to her account of meeting up with the unknown boat at eleven o’clock at night and the clandestine loading of the suspicious boxes, the more I was convinced that this would have to be a matter for the Carabinieri. The trouble was that she clearly didn’t want me to go to the authorities. I tried to work out whether this was out of lingering affection for Mario or whether she was worried for herself, but she stubbornly resisted my attempts to get her to accompany me to Lieutenant Bertoletti right now.

The other reason why I wanted to get the police involved was because of the synchronicity of the timings. In spite of my original feeling that her problems weren’t connected with the death of Van der Groot, maybe I had been too hasty in dismissing any connection.

The mystery boat had come up alongside them at around eleven last night and, coincidentally, at that exact same time Jerome Van der Groot had been travelling back from the Regal Princess towards Portofino in a little rubber dinghy – and a huff. As far as I could gather, both Mario’s yacht and the TV people’s luxury yacht had been in the same sort of area just under a kilometre offshore. What if Van der Groot in his rubber dinghy had stumbled across what sounded very much like suspicious activity and had been stabbed as a result? This would explain why the dinghy in which he’d been travelling had never returned and, in fact, had been found not far from the body a hundred metres or so further down the coast from the harbour entrance. Could it be that these two stories were intertwined after all?

In the end, against my better judgement, I let myself be persuaded to accompany Heather down to Mario’s yacht, which was moored at the far end of the quay, to make sure that she could collect her things and remove them without running into difficulties with him or his two companions. After that, she promised she would come with me to the Carabinieri.

I left the van where it was, deciding that at this time of night, there was unlikely to be a traffic warden on duty and having no desire to pay the outrageous tariff of five euros an hour for the privilege of parking there. As we walked down the narrow street towards the sea, there were still quite a lot of people milling around, but it was nothing like as crowded as it had been earlier.

When we got to the quayside, there were two surprises in store for us. The first was that the table outside the very expensive restaurant where Heather had left Mario and the other two men was now empty. The second surprise was considerably greater. Heather stopped dead and grabbed my arm with one hand, while pointing along the quay with the other. I followed her gaze towards the little remaining piece of fishing port at the far end and saw bright lights illuminating a motor yacht moored stern-on to the quay, with figures moving around on it and near it. The figures were mostly wearing Coastguard or Carabinieri uniforms and among them, I quickly recognised Officer Solaro standing on the quay, speaking into his phone.

We hurried along the quay towards him and as soon as he finished his conversation, I went up to him. He gave me a broad smile when he recognised me and an appreciative look at Heather with her very short skirt.

‘Hello again. You can’t keep away, can you, Signor Armstrong?’

‘Something like that.’ I indicated Heather. ‘This young woman has a very interesting story to tell. Is the lieutenant about?’

He nodded. ‘He’s just gone back on board the yacht.’ I glanced across and read the name of the boat on the stern – La Fortunata, registered in Livorno, not the British Virgin Islands. Maybe Mario didn’t need the tax breaks.

‘What about the owner of this yacht and his friends?’ Heather spoke excellent Italian.

‘They’ve been arrested and taken into custody. The lieutenant will be interviewing them later.’ This confirmed my impression that something very dodgy had been going on, but I found myself wondering how the Carabinieri had managed to react so quickly. Had they had a tip-off?

Heather looked shocked when she heard about the arrests, but I nodded approvingly. ‘Excellent, because, from what I’ve heard from Heather here, there might be some serious charges coming their way.’ I caught his eye. ‘Including a possible charge of murder.’

I saw his eyes open wide. Without hesitation, he pulled out his phone again and made a call to the lieutenant, who indicated he would come straight away.

When Lieutenant Bertoletti appeared, we shook hands and I introduced Heather. I then explained that she had until recently been a passenger on board the yacht that he and his officers were busy searching. His eyes lit up when I went on to outline what Heather had told me about the happenings of the previous night around eleven and the very real possibility that the murdered man from the Regal Princess might have inadvertently witnessed something underhand going on. By the end of my account, the lieutenant was looking very interested indeed.

‘Thank you, Signor Armstrong. That’s fascinating.’ He looked across at Heather. ‘I’m going to need to interview you, Signora, but that doesn’t have to be right now. You look as if you could do with a good night’s sleep. I’d be grateful if you would leave me your passport just to remind you to come back and see me again.’ After she had handed over her passport, he transferred his attention to me. ‘If I could leave her in your care for tonight, Signor Armstrong, could you possibly see that she comes back again tomorrow morning for interview? By that time, I will have had a chance to question the three men in custody and I may be able to tell you more about just exactly what happened last night. I have a feeling you’d like to be kept informed as this case develops.’

This sounded like an excellent plan and I immediately agreed. ‘Definitely, thank you. What sort of time would you like us here?’

‘I’m sure Officer Solaro would be only too happy to come and pick you up from Rapallo at, say, nine o’clock?’

‘That would be excellent, thank you. Just one thing – would it be all right if my girlfriend and my dog come over to Portofino with me tomorrow? I’m afraid I’m going to be very unpopular with both of them otherwise.’

‘No problem at all. Now, I need to get back on board the yacht. We’ve already located the suspicious boxes in the forward hold. We have yet to open them but we’re pretty sure we know the contents.’

‘Could I ask how it is that you’ve arrested the men and identified the yacht so quickly?’ No sooner had I asked the question than I realised there was only one logical answer. ‘Of course, you’ve had them under observation, haven’t you?’

He smiled and gave me a little wink. ‘I couldn’t possibly comment…’

I smiled back. ‘Understood. One thing: what’s the situation with regard to the other yacht, the Regal Princess? The captain said they’re heading for France. Might they be leaving some time soon?’

‘No, they’ve been told to stay here until I give the authorisation for them to leave. From what you’ve just told me, I definitely need to speak to the captain and to a number of them again. As you say, they were moored quite close to this yacht and they may have witnessed the other vessel last night.’

‘Did you get any further with what I overheard in the toilets?’

He gave a frustrated snort. ‘I asked each of them if they’d been to the toilet in the restaurant and I discovered that no fewer than ten of the twelve had used the facilities. How much were these people drinking? Anyway, the bad news is that nobody admitted to saying the words you heard, although the one guy whose voice you thought you might have recognised did look decidedly shifty when I spoke to him.’

‘Oh yes, Edgar Beaumont. By the way, I checked his name on Google and he’s described as a senior TV executive. It looks like most, if not all, of the people on the yacht are from the world of TV.’

‘Not just that, but they’re all from the same TV company.’ He flicked through the pages of his notebook. ‘GreyratTV – that’s one hell of a name – and guess who the CEO is… or rather was? That’s right, the big boss was none other than our murder victim, Jerome Van der Groot.’

So as well as Head of Programming, Van der Groot had actually been the CEO. ‘That might explain why nobody seemed to be particularly saddened by his death and why Susie Upton was so subservient to him. I’d love to be a fly on the wall when you interview her in more depth.’

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