Page 3 of Murder in Portofino

It took a bit longer than expected to fight my way out of the Florentine traffic, made worse by flotillas of campervans and tourist vehicles from all over Europe. Florence in the summer months becomes overrun with visitors from around the globe and I had already discovered that even just walking from my office to the station could be a real challenge. However, by now I knew a few shortcuts to avoid the worst of the traffic jams and we arrived in Lucca as church bells were chiming five o’clock. A Spanish-registered Mercedes reversed out of a parking space just as we came along and I was able to park barely a hundred metres from the Porta San Pietro, one of the half-dozen gates through the massive red brick and stone defensive walls that surround the old town.

Although not as well known today as Florence to the east or Pisa to the west, Lucca is a real gem. The old town had its origins in pre-Roman times, and during the medieval and Renaissance period, the city was one of the most powerful and one of the wealthiest in Italy, if not the whole of Europe. Because of the rich variety of historic buildings within the walls, the city has quite rightly been named a major player in Italy’s artistic and cultural heritage. The last time I had been here had been with Anna, and having my own Renaissance expert to point out places of historic interest had been fascinating.

But today, I wasn’t a tourist.

I asked Diana to lead me to the school where her sister had been working, after which we would try visiting Heather’s home address. We walked past the entrance to the Piazza Grande where a huge stage with batteries of lighting and sound equipment had been erected for the festival events. The square itself was filled with rows of seats, and technicians were working on stage getting things ready for Robbie Williams, who would be performing this evening. Lucca Festival attracts big-name acts.

The school occupied the first floor of a building in the centro storico, within the defensive walls, set a short distance from the main historical sights. As Diana had already discovered that morning, the place looked closed, and pressing the bell marked Lucca English Centre on the intercom by the door to the street brought no response. Unperturbed, I started pressing all of the other bells one by one until I got a response. There was a crackling sound and then a voice answered.

‘Chi è?’ It was a male voice and it sounded as though it didn’t belong to a young man.

I switched to Italian. ‘I’m sorry to bother you but I’m trying to speak to somebody from the English language school and there’s no reply from them. I don’t suppose you know how we could get in touch, do you?’

‘They’re closed for the summer. If it’s like last year, they won’t open again until the end of August.’

‘Is there a caretaker here who might have a contact phone number?’

I heard the man give a little snort of derision. ‘There is, but he’s on holiday as well. He and his family have gone back to Romania for a month. Try the top-floor apartment. One of the teachers has been living there, but I’m not sure if he’s still around now.’

I thanked the man and checked the top button on the intercom. It was marked Smith. This looked hopeful so I pressed it and waited. About ten seconds later, I was delighted to hear a buzzing sound and the front door clicked open. I turned to Diana.

‘Let’s go up and see what Mr Smith has to say.’

There was no lift in the old building and we had to climb four flights of stairs. Needless to say, Oscar got to the top before we did. There were two doors on the landing and the right-hand bell push was marked Smith. I pressed it and thirty seconds later, the door was opened by a lanky man, probably in his early forties, with a ponytail. He was barefoot and wearing the baggiest pair of shorts I had ever seen, accompanied by a scruffy, black T-shirt marked Lucca Summer Festival 2018.

‘Mr Smith?’

‘Yes… sì.’ He sounded a bit vague.

I introduced Diana and outlined why we were here. In view of his surname, I spoke English and it was clear that he understood. He nodded a few times and replied, still sounding very woolly.

‘What day is it today?’ He spoke with just the vaguest hint of a Northern Irish accent – presumably, he had been living over here for some considerable time and his original accent had mellowed as a result.

‘Wednesday.’

‘Wednesday… I see.’ There was a pause long enough for Diana and me to exchange sceptical looks before the man continued. ‘And you’re looking for Heather, you say?’

‘That’s right. There’s been no word from her for over a month now and her family are getting worried. Have you any idea might have happened to her?’

The man ran his hands across his face, clearly doing his best to stimulate his brain. As he did so, Oscar started sneezing and I recognised the familiar smell percolating through the door behind the man. I’ve had enough experience over my years in the Metropolitan Police to recognise the unmistakable smell of cannabis. This explained this guy’s clueless state. I was no longer on the force, so how he spent his free time was nothing to do with me, but I needed information so I did my best to walk him through my dilemma.

‘One of your neighbours downstairs said that you work as a teacher at the school. Is that right?’

‘Yes, sort of. I don’t teach much these days. I’m the director of studies.’

‘And you know Heather well?’

There was still a distant air about him, but he did at least nod immediately. ‘Yes, she’s been working here for a couple of years now.’

‘Has she been in to work recently?’

He managed to shake some sense out of his befuddled brain. ‘We close down over the months of July and August. I haven’t seen her for a couple of weeks.’

‘But she was here then?’ I glanced at Diana. At least it would appear that Heather hadn’t been missing for six weeks after all.

He nodded slowly. ‘Right till the end of June. She didn’t miss any lessons. She’s always been pretty reliable, but, like I say, the school’s closed now. I imagine she’s gone on holiday.’

‘Have you any idea where she might have gone? Do you think she might have stayed here or gone off somewhere?’

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