Page 37 of Murder in Portofino

‘I feel very much the same way. Apparently, he and the first victim were both very drunk and very angry on Saturday night, so I suppose it might have led to murder. Without evidence, who knows?’

‘And your other suspect, the one you said might have been fiddling the accounts. Was that the Schwarzenegger lookalike or the other guy, Edgar something French?’

I was impressed that the young officer was able to recall the people on the yacht without having to consult his notebook and I gave him a smile as I replied.

‘That’s the one: the older one, Edgar Beaumont. He’s going through a nasty divorce at the moment and everybody tells me he badly needs money. That could have been a motive for embezzlement and he killed Van der Groot when he was found out. Like I say, what we need is evidence, hard evidence. The lieutenant said that they were taking fingerprints and DNA swabs this morning. You never know, we might get lucky. Whoever killed Heinrich Schiller, the deckhand, was careless enough to leave the murder weapon sticking in the body. It would be great if they also left their prints, allowing your forensics people to get a match.’ I glanced at my watch. ‘Right, I’m just going for a quick walk with Oscar and then I need to get back over to the yacht to interview Martin Grey. Wish me luck.’

21

TUESDAY MORNING

Oscar and I took a walk through the crowded streets and up the hill past the Carabinieri barracks where Maresciallo Veronese was for once missing on the terrace – no doubt across the bay at the Poseidon. As soon as we got away from the sea, the crowds began to thin and the narrow road very quickly reached an abrupt halt and an even narrower footpath continued up the hill ahead of us. It was very pleasant here in the trees but there wasn’t really anywhere for Oscar to run, but at least he had the pleasure of marking virtually every single tree and gatepost he came to, thus indicating to other dogs that he now claimed control of the whole village. As we walked, I called Anna and got her as her train was arriving in Florence. She couldn’t talk so I just told her everything was going well and that I would ring her this evening. She sounded quite happy and it was with a feeling of relief that I returned to the job in hand and headed back towards the harbour.

In the dinghy, I made sure that I kept hold of the end of Oscar’s lead. He had almost dried out completely in the hot July sunshine and I certainly didn’t want him to leap overboard and get soaked all over again. The trip out to the yacht through the multitude of moored boats took only three or four minutes, although I had a moment of concern when the ferry loomed up dead ahead of me, looking huge from where I was sitting. Fortunately, I managed to take avoiding action and stay well clear, and the remainder of the brief voyage was uneventful. The view back towards Portofino with its faded yellow, orange and pink houses highlighted against the backdrop of dense deep green vegetation on the surrounding hills was delightful. Shame about the crowds… and two murders.

I found Martin Grey at the pool, doing a determined and stylish front crawl against the counter-current swimming jet. I waited several minutes until he stopped swimming and noticed me. The expression on his face wasn’t exactly welcoming but he swam over to the ladder and climbed out.

‘Good morning, Chief Inspector.’

‘Good morning, Mr Grey, and it’s ex-chief inspector nowadays. I wonder if I could have a word with you in private.’

For a fraction of a second, I thought I saw what might have been a look of insecurity on his face before he summoned the cheesy grin that Officer Solaro had noted. He looked around and indicated a couple of sun loungers at the end of the pool. ‘We seem to have the deck to ourselves at the moment, so how about over there?’

I followed him across and we both sat down in the sun, Oscar positioning himself in the shade of my body on the opposite side from Grey, who sat back and gave me an expansive smile that looked almost genuine. ‘How can I help?’

I decided to play down my suspicions for the moment. ‘Lieutenant Bertoletti has had to go off. There’s been a potentially important development that might result in the apprehension of Jerome Van der Groot’s killer. In the meantime, he’s asked me to speak to one or two people here on the yacht. I don’t have many questions so I won’t take up too much of your time.’

The smile stayed firmly on his face as he nodded. ‘Fire away. I’ll be only too happy to give you any help I can.’ He looked and sounded cheerful but, of course, he spent his career looking like that so it didn’t necessarily mean anything but, maybe, I told myself, I was just being too cynical. My ex-wife often accused me of this and she was probably right. Doing my best to stifle any feelings of mistrust, I started on the questions.

‘Have you heard that I’m investigating the disappearance of a considerable sum of money from the company’s accounts?’

‘Yes, indeed, but I doubt whether I’ll be able to help. I’m afraid I’m terrible with figures.’ He gave me what could probably have been described as a cheeky grin. ‘All I know is that I’ve got six fingers on each hand, but that’s as far as my maths goes.’

I duly smiled back. ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure you aren’t involved in anything like that. Apart from any other considerations, only a limited number of people have all the access codes and passwords. What I was wondering was whether you can think of anybody in the accounts department or elsewhere in the company who might have been in urgent need of money. Anything you tell me will be in the strictest confidence.’

He took his time before replying and, at first, he repeated what the others had already told me. ‘I’m afraid poor old Edgar is going through the mill at the moment with a divorce, and it would appear that his wife’s lawyers are intent on taking him to the cleaners. I would think he would love to get his hands on some extra cash but I’m not sure I see him as a thief.’ He caught my eye for a moment. ‘But brass is brass, isn’t it? What is it they say – “Money doesn’t buy happiness, but it makes unhappiness a lot more comfortable”? Who knows, maybe he did dip his fingers in the till.’

‘Anybody else?’

‘The only other person is Susie. She spends money like water and she seems to have a different outfit every day. And I’m not talking cheap stuff either. If it doesn’t have a designer label, Ms Upton isn’t interested.’

Considering the clothes I had seen him wearing and the fact that his swimming shorts had Burberry emblazoned on the front of them, I had a feeling this might be the pot calling the kettle black, but I pressed him all the same. ‘So you think Susie might be on the lookout for money?’

‘Definitely. She seems to throw herself at every millionaire we meet. I heard recently she was working her way through the Manchester United football team. I’ve heard her described as the good time had by all.’ Even if I hadn’t already been warned that he enjoyed spreading libellous allegations about his colleague, the petulant note in his voice was a clear indication of jealousy. And jealousy, as thirty years in the murder squad had taught me, can be a powerful motive for murder.

‘Thank you. I’ll relay that to the lieutenant. The other thing he wanted me to ask you was exactly what happened on Saturday night immediately before Jerome Van der Groot was murdered. I believe you and he were involved in an argument.’

This time, the cheesy smile did slip. ‘Not so much an argument as a bloody lynching. Are you familiar with the expression “kangaroo court”, Mr Armstrong? In my case, it was very public humiliation in front of my colleagues. As soon as we get back to the UK, I intend to speak to my lawyer about this totally unacceptable and disrespectful treatment. Miserable old sod! Would you believe Jerome had the gall to accuse me of betraying company secrets to another TV company, and I found myself summarily dismissed?’ He glared at me and I got a brief glimpse of a more visceral Martin Grey beneath the jolly professional veneer. ‘Sacked, me? Me, the instantly recognisable and much-loved public face of the company? Of course I’m sorry Jerome’s dead, but I think the old man must have been going doolally.’ He caught my eye again. ‘Is the lieutenant absolutely certain that it wasn’t suicide? It wouldn’t surprise me.’

In spite of his protestations, I distinctly got the impression that the death of the CEO hadn’t saddened him in the slightest. Ignoring the fact that he had described the victim – who had been barely a handful of years older than me – as ‘old’, I decided to stick with obfuscation. ‘I’m not really sure of the facts. Certainly the Carabinieri are treating it as murder. Tell me, is it true that Jerome Van der Groot wanted to give your job to Susie Upton?’

His perfectly tanned face suddenly turned a very unhealthy puce colour. ‘As if she could take on the role of host for the biggest-grossing game show on UK television! Bloody ridiculous! As I say, I reckon Jerome was losing it. His health hasn’t been that great recently, so maybe something was going wrong in his brain.’ He then spat out a colourful selection of unprintable expletives to reinforce his contention that Van der Groot had been insane, and even Oscar looked up in amazement.

‘So it’s not true that you were talking to another TV company?’

‘I talk to lots of people and I have a whole heap of friends, some very good friends, in a number of different media companies.’ He thumped his fist on the table for good measure. ‘Was Jerome really trying to tell me that I can’t even choose my own bloody friends?’ His outrage was only too clear to hear and I could well imagine how an excess of alcohol could have led to actual physical assault on Saturday night, although murder still seemed excessive retaliation even for a narcissist like Martin Grey.

‘Returning to Susie Upton for a moment, what do you think of a rumour I’ve heard that she was involved with Jerome Van der Groot, maybe trading sexual favours in order to get on in the company?’

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