Page 25 of Murder in Portofino

‘I’ve got a good idea of what’s going through your head, Dan. You and I are both familiar with juggling the pressures of work and home life. Take your time; you don’t have to make a decision now. Let’s go and eat and then you can talk it through with Anna later. You have my phone number. If you decide you want to go back on board early tomorrow morning to start sniffing around to get to the bottom of the allegations of financial irregularities being made by Mr Vaughan, we can go out to the boat together. I’m going to have to go there anyway to follow up with him but, I’ll be quite honest, I need all the help I can get at the moment.’ A smile crossed his face. ‘But think of it this way: if you take Mr Vaughan’s contract, you will at least be being paid for your time and not just donating it generously like you have been doing so far.’

I gave him a sincere smile. ‘Thanks, Guido, I appreciate that. You’re right, I need to talk it over with Anna, but I really would like to get to the bottom of what’s happening. The trouble is that I need to get away tomorrow by noon at the latest as Anna has to be back in Florence by five. I’ll give you a call later this evening or, more probably, first thing tomorrow morning when I go for a walk with Oscar on my own, say between seven and seven-thirty.’

‘That’s fine but remember this – I still want to catch this murderer, so don’t think you’ll be leaving things in limbo if you decide not to be involved any more. But, like I say, two heads are better than one. If you decide not to carry on any involvement, I will understand, and you can rest assured that I’ll still be on the case. At least you being here has meant that I’ve been able to meet and make friends with a fellow professional from a different country and that’s always good. Now let’s get back outside to Anna and Marina and make sure we talk about anything at all, as long as it isn’t murder.’

I swallowed my wine and followed him out to the terrace. The meal that followed was excellent even though, with everything we had eaten at lunchtime, Anna and I were unable to do it real justice. We all started by sharing a wonderful platter of mixed seafood antipasti loaded with everything from crab to squid, prawns to scallops. Guido tried to insist that we had a plate of pasta before the main course and I resisted manfully until we finally hit on a compromise. Anna and I would share a plate of the house speciality spaghetti alla marinara.

I’ve always quite liked pasta and since moving to Italy, I’ve inevitably consumed an increasing amount of it, whether pasta fresca or pasta asciutta – that’s the hard, dry stuff you find in packets on the shelves. I’ve had tagliatelle, lasagne, ravioli and pappardelle – plus a load of other types whose names escape me – but this was the first time I’d ever been served a plate of spaghetti where there was more sauce than pasta. The plate was absolutely piled high with clams and mussels in their shells and, with just a hint of freshly made pesto – the Ligurian speciality – in the sauce, the resulting taste was exquisite.

In spite of Anna’s protestations that she was still full from lunch, I noticed that even she very quickly shed her scruples and the two of us managed to clear the plate, much to the chagrin of my ever-hungry dog whose nose had told him exactly what we humans were eating. I bought him off with a couple more breadsticks but I could tell he was feeling hard done by. The proprietor, who came out to check that everything was all right, must have intercepted a longing look from the Labrador because two minutes later, a waitress emerged with the remains of a T-bone steak that somebody hadn’t been able to finish. Oscar’s eyes lit up and the rest of the evening was punctuated by sinister crunching noises from beneath the table as he enjoyed his very own feast.

As we ate, we chatted, and I discovered that Guido and Marina had been married for five years and lived in an apartment in Rapallo. This, he told me, was partly for Marina’s convenience for her teaching job, but also because property prices in Portofino were astronomical. He told me ruefully that even a general in the Carabinieri would find it hard to afford a two-bedroom flat here. I could well believe it. This tiny little place was clearly the domain of the super-rich, and I wondered who had been out to catch what we were eating tonight. Where did the fishermen live and how did they manage to survive in this playground of the wealthy?

The pasta course was followed by another massive platter, this time of grilled fish. I counted at least seven different species but could name only a couple of them. What they all had in common, however, was that they tasted great. With a simple mixed salad as accompaniment, it was outstanding.

I was just sitting back with a cup of coffee, after having managed to summon the self-control to refuse a dessert, when a phone started ringing. For once, it wasn’t mine. It was Guido’s. As calls go, it wasn’t the longest.

‘Hello. What? Where? I’ll be with you in two minutes.’

He reached for his coffee cup and drained the last of it before standing up. I could see him doing his best not to catch my eye, but I couldn’t miss the expression of shock and exasperation on his face. His wife must have seen it as well because she reached out her hand, caught hold of his arm and looked up at him.

‘What is it, Guido? What’s happened?’

‘There’s been another murder.’

Her hand flew to her mouth in disbelief. ‘Two in three days! Where’s this one?’

This time, he definitely did make eye contact with me. ‘It’s on board the Regal Princess.’

I felt as stunned as he did and a sudden feeling of premonition settled on me. Surely it couldn’t be Neil Vaughan so soon after voicing his suspicions but, significantly, without naming names. With a feeling of dread, I looked up at Guido and asked the all-important question.

‘Who is it?’

The answer wasn’t what I was expecting.

‘Heinrich Schiller, the deckhand. His body’s been found in a pool of blood.’

Although every investigative bone in my body was screaming at me to leap to my feet and accompany Guido to the yacht, he pre-empted any action from me by laying a calming hand on my shoulder, preventing me from having to make a difficult decision. ‘I’m sorry but I have to go. Don’t worry about trying to pay the bill; I’ve already spoken to the owner. Before you say anything, Dan, I’ll go out to the boat with my people now. There’s no need for you to get involved. We’ll talk in the morning, all right?’ He turned to his wife. ‘I’m sorry, my love, but you know how it is. Will you give Dan and Anna a lift back to Rapallo?’ He bent down to kiss her, shook hands with Anna and me and disappeared at the double.

I stayed in my seat as bidden, but it was a struggle.

15

TUESDAY EARLY MORNING

I couldn’t get off to sleep that night. If I’m totally honest, it was probably in good part my own fault for having eaten far too much in the course of the day but, more specifically, it was because my brain had been churning. The two subjects preventing me from dropping off had been the murders at Portofino and my relationship with Anna. Of the two, I knew that Anna was the more important to me, but thirty years in the murder squad leave their mark. Yes, I loved Anna dearly, but at the same time, it was now crystal clear that there was a psychopath at large on the luxury yacht. I spent ages telling myself over and over again that Guido Bertoletti was a committed, competent detective and it was his job, not mine, to bring the killer to justice. A fat lot of good that did me. I still found myself lying there staring blankly at the ceiling until somewhere around two o’clock in the morning.

At that point, I was roused by a movement from the floor beside the bed and a couple of seconds later, a cold nose gave my shoulder a nudge. I rolled over to see a pair of big, brown eyes, now glowing green in the moonlight filtering through the shutters, staring at me intently. At first, I wondered if Oscar was telling me he wanted a comfort break, but he only gave me that one nudge, whereas I knew from experience that if he had wanted to go out, he would have kept on headbutting me. Evidently, his canine radar had picked up the fact that I was troubled and he was trying to offer support. I pulled one arm out from under the sheet and scratched his ears while I outlined my problem to him in a whisper. He gave no reaction until I reached the end of my exposé.

At that point, after a momentary pause for reflection, he farted.

As a cloud of near toxic gas wafted over me, I recoiled and bumped into Anna. She’s normally a heavy sleeper but presumably tonight she had also been struggling to get to sleep as she sounded wide awake when she pulled the sheet over her head and addressed me from within it.

‘I’m hoping that was the dog, Dan.’

I joined her under the sheet. ‘Not guilty, your honour. It was definitely Oscar. That’s the trouble when he gets hold of a bone. Sorry I woke you.’

‘I wasn’t really sleeping.’ She rolled towards me and caught hold of my upper arm. ‘I’ve eaten too much.’

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