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- Herausgeber: Allison & Busby
- Kategorie: Krimi
- Sprache: Englisch
Rome, 1900. Fifteen years ago, Abigail Wilson joined an archaeological dig at the Colosseum at the start of her career. She returns now to the Eternal City as a guest speaker for a festival on Classical Rome, including the site of legendary gladiator battles. Travelling with Abigail is her husband, Daniel Wilson, a private investigator with whom she has built up a reputation for solving complex cases. The trip is also meant to be a well-earned holiday, but the bloody history of the ancient arena seeps into the present with the violent murder of one of Abigail's colleagues and his wife at the Colosseum itself. Moving from the Forum to the Spanish Steps, Rome is suddenly the backdrop of another investigation for the Museum Detectives, who must contend with the local authorities and a shady mafia influence if they are to crack this case.
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1
MURDER AT THE COLOSSEUM
Jim Eldridge
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To Lynne, who makes my heart quicken every time I look at her.
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
Tuesday 7th August, 1900
Thirty-seven-year-old Vincenzo Sulli and his younger brother, Edoardo, sat in the office of Salvatore Fuschetti, at the yard where Fuschetti stabled the horses that pulled the carriages and taxis in the Celian and Palatine Hill areas of Rome. It was a good and profitable business, with most of the city carriage drivers unable to afford their own stables. Their horses were kept fed and watered and groomed. The result was not only that Salvatore Fuschetti earned a good income from the services he offered, but he also benefited from the information passed to him by the drivers themselves: the addresses of the wealthy who were going to be away from home for a few days, indiscreet whispered conversations between passengers with verification of rumours and gossip that would be worth good money to certain interested parties. Salvatore Fuschetti was not just a successful and rich stable owner, he was also a key figure in the Celian Hill Cosa Nostra, second only to the local capo, Massimo Cassani. Fuschetti was the one to whom disgruntled locals brought their grievances. It was up to Fuschetti to decide on the importance of the particular grievance, the fairness or lack of it in the situation and, most importantly, the money. The cost of settling a dispute 8depended on what was required. Physical pressure, perhaps. An arm broken. At the extreme end, a bullet or two.
‘This Giovanni Maduro,’ said Vincenzo angrily, ‘threatens to ruin us.’
‘His rantings in the press could persuade the authorities to close down our shops!’ snarled Edoardo. ‘And we know they read him, because only recently some interfering council man quoted him in the Chamber of Deputies.’
The Sulli brothers owned a series of dingy sweatshops where women laboured for long hours and little pay over ancient sewing machines, producing clothes for the city’s most expensive shops.
Vincenzo produced a few newspapers, which he slammed down on the table.
‘Read them for yourself!’ he thundered, outraged. ‘He even names us in one of these scurrilous articles. We should sue him.’
‘But we can’t,’ said Edoardo unhappily. ‘If we did, it would only publicise us to the kind of people who buy the clothes we make, the rich, whereas at the moment it’s the left-wing rabble and the poor who read the so-called newspapers and magazines his articles appear in. But, sooner or later, what he says will be out in public for everyone to read.’
‘He has to be stopped,’ said Vincenzo. ‘He must be stopped.’
Fuschetti nodded. He picked up the newspapers.
‘Leave this to me,’ he said. Then he looked at them questioningly. ‘There will be a cost, of course.’
‘Whatever it takes!’ roared Vincenzo.
‘But within reason,’ added Edoardo, bringing in a note of caution.
‘Of course,’ said Fuschetti.
CHAPTER TWO
Thursday 9th August
The Rome Express bearing Daniel and Abigail Wilson was finally approaching the Italian capital. It had been a long and tiring journey from London – a train to the south coast, then a ferry across the English Channel to Calais-Maritime, where they’d caught the express train that travelled the length of France before crossing into Italy and going through Turin, Genoa, Pisa and Florence before arriving in Rome. The journey had taken three days.
‘Did it take you this long when you were here before?’ asked Daniel.
‘Longer, I’m afraid,’ said Abigail. ‘We were held up by some unfortunate rail accidents.’
Abigail was referring to her first visit to Rome fifteen years earlier, in 1885. After graduating from Girton College in Classics, Abigail, then aged twenty-five, had joined a group undertaking an archaeological dig at the Colosseum in Rome. It had been the start of her career in archaeology. Now, in August 1900, she was internationally recognised as one of the pre-eminent archaeologists of her generation, mainly for her work in Egypt at the pyramids. Recently she’d led an expedition 10sponsored by Arthur Conan Doyle to Abusir, in particular to explore the pyramid of Niuserre, and the work she’d done there was still being studied by Egyptologists and written about in magazines. But ever since that first experience of working at the ancient Colosseum, she’d had an enduring love for all things classically Roman, so when she was invited to take part in a festival in Rome on the classical era, she’d leapt at it.
‘You will love it,’ she’d assured Daniel. ‘It will be our first real holiday in continental Europe.’
‘We were in Paris not so long ago,’ Daniel reminded her,
‘That was not really a holiday,’ Abigail pointed out. ‘It began with my being imprisoned and threatened with the guillotine and then developed into a mystery for us to solve.’
As well as Abigail’s career as an archaeologist, for the last six years she and Daniel had established a reputation as the Museum Detectives, starting when they’d solved a series of murders at the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge together, and as a result received similar commission from most of the other famous museums – the British Museum, the Ashmolean, the Natural History and, most recently, the Louvre in Paris. Daniel had been a detective at Scotland Yard, working with the famous Inspector Abberline on the Jack the Ripper investigations, before becoming a private investigator. Now he and Abigail were not just partners in detection, but also partners in life, having married.
Abigail took a letter from her handbag and passed it to Daniel.
‘This is what Giuseppe sent me,’ she said, referring to Giuseppe Saredo, the organiser of the Classical Rome Festival, someone she’d first met and worked with on the original dig 11at the Colosseum fifteen years before. ‘It’s the programme for the Festival.’
‘You showed it to me before,’ Daniel reminded her. ‘Remember, I pointed out that it’s in Italian.’
Abigail took it back from him and proceeded to go through the programme.
‘It begins Friday, tomorrow. The morning starts with a blessing, followed by processions and displays by local schoolchildren.’
‘A blessing?’ said Daniel.
‘This is Rome, the most Catholic city in the world,’ said Abigail. ‘The Church is omnipresent. Nothing important happens here without the involvement of the Church. Using the schoolchildren is a brilliant idea of Giuseppe’s. It means their parents and grandparents will turn up, and so everyone will be made aware of what’s going on at the Festival. Giuseppe says the displays by the children will include presentations depicting the great heroes of Rome: Romulus and Remus, and Castor and Pollux.’
‘I have no idea who they are,’ said Daniel.
‘Surely you know about Romulus and Remus?’ said Abigail, surprised.
‘You forget, my education was in a workhouse,’ Daniel reminded her. ‘Picking oakum, and reading and writing, and numbers, but at a very basic level. Everything I know, I learnt after I left the workhouse, so basically, I’m self-taught. And that didn’t include the history of Rome, or of Egypt. What I do know about them I’ve picked up from you.’
‘Rome is named after Romulus. Romulus and Remus were the twin sons of the god Mars and the daughter of a King 12of Alba, after Mars had taken advantage of her while she was asleep.’
‘The cad!’ said Daniel.
‘Exactly. The girl’s father was not impressed, so the twin baby boys were put in a basket and set afloat on the River Tiber. The basket came ashore beside a grotto, where a she-wolf found them and suckled them. A shepherd and his wife came along and took the boys in. As the boys became older they became rivals, and Romulus killed Remus. There is a longer version of the tale, but I won’t go into it now. I’ll explain more as we watch the procession. In short, Romulus survived and founded the city of Rome. As for Castor and Pollux …’
Daniel held up his hand. ‘Again, later,’ he said. ‘I can only cope with a certain amount of classical history at a time. So, that’s Friday morning.’
‘And on Friday afternoon, I do my guided tour of the Colosseum,’ said Abigail. ‘I’ll be showing the audience where we did our original dig, where the Roman audiences sat, and the underground cells where the gladiators were kept prior to them going into the arena. Then, on Saturday, my old friend Giovanni Maduro will be doing the same kind of thing at the Forum. On Monday someone, who I don’t know, will be doing the same at the Palatine Hill. What’s good about it is that, unlike archaeological conferences, which usually consist of people in halls talking and pointing at pictures, all the events at this are taking place at the classical sites with a guided tour, where the person leading the sessions takes the audience around, pointing out and describing places of particular interest.’
‘There’s nothing on Sunday,’ commented Daniel.
‘It’s the sabbath. It’s no different to back in Britain,’ said 13Abigail. ‘Nothing happens except church events. No shops open except newsagents, and then only in the morning. It’s even more so here because Rome – as I said – is the most religious city in the world as far as Catholics are concerned. So, on Sunday the population goes to church and takes part in solemn masses and processions.’
‘So that’s Friday, Saturday and Monday at the Festival,’ said Daniel.
‘Then on Tuesday, back at the Colosseum, we have a troupe of actors and acrobats recreating gladiatorial contests. I bet you that will be very popular. Then, on Wednesday, the universities have been invited to take part in debates at the Forum. That’s where the original debates took place back in classical times.’
‘I bet that won’t be as popular as the gladiators,’ said Daniel.
‘Possibly, but they’re adding a short drama about the assassination of Julius Caesar. Lots of stabbing going on. And then, on Thursday, Giovanni and I swap. He will do his take on the Colosseum, while I do my own tour of the Forum. Then, on Friday, there will be a big parade around the Forum and the Palatine Hill, ending at the Colosseum, at which Giuseppe Saracco, the Prime Minister of Italy, will be present, along with other dignitaries, to close the Festival.’
Daniel looked out of the window. ‘It looks as if we’re coming into the station,’ he said.
Abigail began putting the letter and other things away.
‘In his letter, Giuseppe suggested rather than his meeting us off the train, we go to the Colosseum and he’ll meet us there.’ She checked her watch. ‘That makes sense – the train’s running about an hour late, which isn’t bad considering how long the whole journey is.’14
‘It’s no different to catching a train back home,’ commented Daniel.
‘I suggest we leave our luggage at the railway station and walk to the Colosseum,’ said Abigail. ‘It’s not far.’
‘Excellent idea,’ said Daniel enthusiastically, who always advocated walking around new places to learn about them.
CHAPTER THREE
Their route to the Colosseum took them along via Cavour, a long wide street with houses and shops on either side.
‘The Romans were very keen on straight, wide main roads,’ said Abigail. ‘They liked to move the Roman army quickly from place to place. That’s why so many of our major roads in Britain are like that, the product of the Roman occupation.’
Their walk took them past two ornate churches – ‘Santa Maria Maggiore’, Abigail informed him of the first; then ‘San Pietro in Vincoli’ as they passed the second.
‘They look very old,’ said Daniel.
‘They are, but compared to what you’ll see when we get to the Colosseum and the Forum, they’re relatively modern. San Pietro is about a thousand and a half years old.’
They turned off the main wide road at the church of San Pietro and made their way along a narrower street, and saw directly ahead of them the magnificence of the Colosseum towering high into the air above.
‘My God, it’s huge!’ said Daniel, awed as he looked at the ancient, high brown stone circular walls, with what appeared to be the spaces for open windows every few feet along the 16bottom three levels, and smaller window spaces running at intervals all the way along the highest section.
‘It’s the largest amphitheatre in the world,’ said Abigail. ‘Construction began under the Emperor Vespasian in 72 ad and it was finally completed in 80 ad. It held up to eighty thousand spectators.’
‘And this is where the gladiators fought?’
‘Gladiators, and animal hunts, executions, re-enactments of famous battles. What makes it special is that many Roman theatres were built into hillsides. The Colosseum is entirely free-standing, which makes it a masterpiece of building construction. Come with me and I’ll show you the arena.’
Daniel followed her through one of the many arches and found himself in an enormous open space of sandy ground surrounded by ascending rows where the audience must have sat, or stood. The area was filled with people milling around, many of them tourists, but there was one small group being addressed energetically by a stout middle-aged man, with lots of gestures, pointing at various aspects of the enormous ruined building.
‘I think that might be Giuseppe Saredo,’ said Abigail.
‘You don’t recognise him?’
‘It’s fifteen years since I saw him, and people change. The Giuseppe I knew was tall, thin and clean-shaven. If it is Giuseppe, he’s certainly put on weight and developed a bushy beard.’
The man she was talking about swung round to point to another part of the ruins and suddenly saw Daniel and Abigail. Immediately he hurried towards them, his arms outstretched in welcome, shouting, ‘Abigail!’17
‘I think we can conclude it is him,’ murmured Daniel.
Giuseppe Saredo’s face bore a huge, happy smile as he neared them.
‘Abigail!’ he boomed. ‘And this must be Daniel, il marito!’
‘He is indeed,’ said Abigail as Giuseppe swamped her in an affectionate bear hug. Stepping back from Giuseppe, she introduced them. ‘Giuseppe, this is Daniel Wilson, my husband. Daniel, this is Giuseppe Saredo, whom I worked with at this place fifteen years ago and who’s organising this festival.’
‘Buongiorno,’ said Daniel, shaking Giuseppe’s hand, to which the delighted Giuseppe responded with a long burst of excited Italian.
‘Forgive me,’ said Daniel apologetically. ‘Currently my Italian is limited to a few basic phrases such as buongiorno, grazie and arrivederci, but I’m determined to improve while I’m here.’
‘Then we converse in English,’ smiled Giuseppe. He turned to Abigail and asked, ‘How does it feel to be here again after fifteen years?’
‘In fact, I was here some eight years ago. I stopped over while on my way back from Egypt. I wanted to catch up with Sarah and Giovanni.’ She turned to Daniel. ‘Remember, I told you about them?’
‘Indeed. Sarah, the young woman you were here with in 1885.’
‘Who fell in love with a young Italian archaeology student on the same dig, Giovanni Maduro, and married him and still lives in Italy.’ She turned to Giuseppe and said, ‘As Giovanni’s in your programme, I assume you still see them.’18
‘Of course!’ said Giuseppe. ‘The past few years they have been busy at the Forum, which Giovanni will be giving a talk about at the Festival. I told them you would be arriving today and Sarah particularly was very excited to see you. She said they would make a point of coming here today.’
‘That will be wonderful!’ said Abigail.
Giuseppe looked around them, then asked: ‘Where is your luggage?’
‘We left it at the Roma Termini left luggage office so we could walk here unencumbered. If you tell us where we’ll be staying, we’ll collect it later.’
‘We can do better than that,’ said Giuseppe. ‘We’ll walk together to the Termini later and I’ll come with you to the hotel. It’s the Miazzo, very close to the Termini.’
‘That will be ideal,’ said Abigail.
Giuseppe gestured towards the group of people he’d been addressing. ‘I have to talk to these people. They will be acting as stewards at the Festival and I need them to know what their duties are, and where they will be located. Do you have everything you need for your talk tomorrow afternoon? If there’s anything I can get for you …’
‘No, thank you.’ She waved a hand at the vast ruined site. ‘These are all the illustrations I’ll need.’
‘In that case, I’ll see you at the Forum later. We have an office there for administrating the Festival. I’m about to take these stewards there to hand out details for them.’ He sighed. ‘Paperwork, always paperwork.’ Giuseppe shook hands with them, then rejoined his small crowd of stewards and led them away.
‘He’s very energetic,’ commented Daniel.19
‘He always was,’ said Abigail. ‘He’s passionate about archaeology and classical Rome. He’s the perfect person to be in charge of organising this festival. Now, let me show you the Colosseum. A guided tour.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked Daniel. ‘Wouldn’t you rather save yourself for tomorrow?’
‘No. For one thing, it’s been many years since I was last here. I need to see what’s changed so I’m not caught unprepared when I take the people around. And I’ll be giving tomorrow’s talk in Italian, so you won’t be able to understand a word.’
From their position in the middle of the arena, Abigail pointed to the ascending tiers which rose up.
‘The seating at arena level is where the most important people sat. The senatorial class, who were allowed to bring their own chairs. The level above that was for the non-senatorial nobles, and the next level up was for ordinary Roman citizens, but even that was subdivided according to class. The lower part was for wealthy citizens, and the upper part was where the poor sat. Roman society was rigidly organised according to rank and wealth. The seats were made of stone for the poorest, and marble for the elite, who would bring their own cushions. The highest level of all was a separate gallery for the common poor, slaves and women. That would have been standing only, no seats.’
‘It doesn’t sound much different to the arrangements in London theatres,’ commented Daniel.
‘Interestingly, some people were banned from the Colosseum completely,’ added Abigail. ‘That included actors, gravediggers and former gladiators.’ She gestured at the sandy ground they were standing on. ‘Beneath the sand is a wooden 20floor, and beneath that is a two-level network of tunnels where gladiators and wild animals were kept. You can imagine how large the tunnels were when the animals included elephants. Incidentally, the Latin word for sand is harena, or arena.’
‘Abigail!’
They turned and saw a woman in her late thirties waving at them. She was accompanied by a man in his forties and a young woman who looked to be in her teens.
‘It’s Sarah and Giovanni,’ exclaimed Abigail delightedly.
‘Who’s the girl?’ asked Daniel.
‘I’ve no idea,’ said Abigail.
‘Their daughter?’ suggested Daniel.
‘No,’ said Abigail. ‘Sarah and Giovanni did have a daughter, but sadly she died some years ago. This is possibly a relative of Giovanni’s. I’ll leave the rest of our tour for later.’
Daniel and Abigail moved forward to greet the three newcomers. Sarah and Giovanni were all welcoming smiles, but the young woman with them looked at Abigail and Daniel with what appeared to be overt hostility.
‘Whoever she is, her face says she doesn’t like us,’ murmured Daniel.
‘Shh,’ Abigail murmured back.
Abigail and Sarah embraced warmly, then Abigail and Giovanni. For his part, Daniel shook hands with Sarah and Giovanni as Sarah did the introductions.
‘This is my sister, Julia,’ said Sarah, indicating the young woman. ‘She’s come to stay with us for a few months to get the flavour of Italy.’
‘Hello,’ smiled Abigail to the young woman. The young woman, who now they were closer to her appeared to be 21about seventeen, merely nodded at her, unsmiling and sullen.
‘Giuseppe said you’d be here today,’ said Sarah. ‘This is such a delight!’
‘An enormous pleasure to see you again, Abigail,’ added Giovanni. ‘And to meet your husband. How was your journey?’
‘Long,’ said Daniel ruefully.
Giovanni pointed to where a coffee stall had been set up, along with a few chairs.
‘Let us talk over coffee,’ he said.
They walked towards the coffee stall, and saw that there were only three chairs available.
‘I will sit on the ground,’ said Giovanni. ‘I’m used to it.’
‘I will join you,’ offered Daniel. ‘Let the ladies have the chairs.’
‘There’s no need,’ said Julia. ‘I want to go to the Vatican to take a proper look at the Sistine Chapel.’
‘If you wait till we’ve had coffee, we’ll go with you,’ said Sarah.
‘Thank you, but I’m happy on my own. I know my way around Rome. I speak Italian. I’ll be fine.’
With that, Julia made her exit. Sarah let out a sigh.
‘I’m sorry about my sister,’ she apologised to Abigail and Daniel. ‘I don’t think she realises she’s being rude.’
Oh yes she does, thought Abigail. Aloud, she said, ‘She’s young, and I can understand her wanting to see Rome for herself, rather than sit and listen to four old friends gabble away about things of which she knows nothing.’
Sarah and Abigail settled themselves down on a chair each. Daniel looked enquiringly at Giovanni, who shook his head. ‘Please, sit,’ he said. ‘After so many years working as an archaeologist, dusty ground is a second home to me.’22
‘Giovanni is currently engaged in excavations at the Forum,’ said Sarah.
‘I’ve yet to show Daniel the Forum,’ said Abigail.
‘I’ll be happy to show you,’ said Giovanni. ‘Possibly tomorrow, after you’ve given your talk.’
‘That will be excellent,’ said Abigail. ‘How is Paolo?’
‘Paolo?’ asked Daniel.
‘Sarah and Giovanni’s son,’ explained Abigail. ‘He must be quite grown up by now.’
‘Indeed he is,’ said Sarah. ‘He’s seventeen.’
‘He’s working for Pirelli in Milan,’ added Giovanni. ‘The tyre company. He wants to work in the motor industry and most of the firms involved are in Milan or other parts of the north.’
‘Yes, cars have started to appear in Britain,’ said Abigail. ‘Everyone says they are the transport of the future, but I’m not so sure.’
‘Here in Italy we see it as the big industry with lots of work for the young generation,’ said Giovanni animatedly. ‘Up till now most work in Italy has been in farming. Olives, tomatoes, very labour intensive, but poorly paid. It’s led to large parts of the country losing people because they’re too poor to stay and support a family. Instead, they are emigrating to America.’
Sarah smiled affectionately at her husband as she said gently but firmly, ‘That’s enough politics, Gio.’
Giovanni gave them a rueful smile and said, ‘I apologise, but it’s something as a country we cannot ignore.’
‘How about you?’ asked Sarah, discreetly changing the subject. ‘No children of your own?’
‘Alas, no,’ said Abigail.23
She didn’t tell them that soon after they’d returned from Paris the previous year, Abigail had discovered she was pregnant. Sadly, their joy was short-lived. At four months, Abigail had suffered a miscarriage, and her doctor had cautioned against Abigail becoming pregnant again. Abigail also remembered that Sarah and Giovanni’s daughter, Lucrezia, had died at the age of ten, eight years before, and she was concerned that telling the couple about her miscarriage might bring back sad memories for them of their daughter. Instead, their talk turned to Sarah’s and Giovanni’s work as archaeologists, though most of Sarah’s now seemed to be writing articles on the subject for magazine and newspapers.
‘That’s how I know about your expedition to Niuserre,’ Sarah said. ‘It was in one of the magazines I write for. It caused quite a stir, a woman leading an archaeological expedition. Will you be talking about that?’
Abigail shook her head. ‘As the subject of the Festival is classical Rome, I shall be concentrating on the dig here in 1885.’
‘Ah, such happy memories,’ said Sarah.
‘Actually, we’d better get to our hotel and recover from our long journey,’ said Abigail. ‘We said we’d meet Giuseppe at the Forum and he’d take us to it. We’re staying at the Miazzo near the Termini.’
‘Very comfortable,’ said Sarah.
‘We’ll walk with you to the Forum,’ said Giovanni. ‘I need to check that everything’s in place for my talk.’
CHAPTER FOUR
The four of them rose and Giovanni led the way to the Forum, Sarah and Abigail chatting excitedly, swapping memories. At the Forum, once Giovanni had been reassured by Giuseppe that everything was in place for his talk, Abigail and Daniel repeated the long walk along the via Cavour, this time in reverse, to the Termini. Once there, they reclaimed their luggage, and Giuseppe helped them carry it to their hotel.
‘Thank you, Giuseppe,’ said Daniel warmly. ‘I really don’t know what we’d have done without your help today.’
‘You’d have done perfectly well, because you have Abigail with you,’ said Giuseppe cheerily. ‘She is one of the greatest organisers and survivors I’ve ever known.’ To Abigail, he said, ‘If you’d like to arrive at the Colosseum tomorrow late morning, I’ll introduce you to the stewards. At least, to the key ones.’
‘I’m looking forward to it,’ said Abigail.
‘One important thing for tomorrow,’ said Giuseppe. ‘The tunnels beneath the arena. You were possibly planning to take your audience down to them to give them the experience of what it was like being there?’
‘Yes,’ said Abigail.25
‘It’s a wonderful idea, but the organising committee are worried about it. There’s more chance of an accident happening down there with a group of people who are novices, rather than when there are just a handful of experienced archaeologists. Someone could get lost in the tunnels, for example. A child running off from their parents.’
‘Yes, that’s a good point,’ said Abigail, but unable to hide her disappointment. ‘So, keep everything above ground?’
‘Thank you,’ said Giuseppe, obviously relieved.
Once Giuseppe had departed, they both slumped down onto comfortable armchairs.
‘My God, I’m exhausted,’ said Daniel. ‘Not just the journey, but today, walking everywhere, meeting people.’
‘At least we have the evening and tomorrow morning to ourselves,’ said Abigail.
‘It’s disappointing about the underground areas,’ said Daniel, ‘I was looking forward to that.’
‘It makes sense,’ admitted Abigail. ‘All sorts of things can go wrong in underground areas – tunnels caving in, people getting lost. It happens all the time at digs in the pyramids. But don’t worry, I’ll arrange with Giuseppe to take you into the tunnels. When we did the original excavation, we found an entrance to them. Hopefully, it’s still there and hasn’t been blocked off.’
‘You’re sure you have everything ready for tomorrow?’ asked Daniel. ‘You’re confident about using Italian?’
‘The same as I was when I gave a talk at the Louvre in French,’ Abigail reminded him.
‘How many languages do you actually speak?’ asked Daniel.
‘French, obviously. Arabic. Italian. And Greek, at a pinch.’
‘That’s so impressive,’ said Daniel, awed.26
‘That comes from being an archaeologist who travels.’
‘Yes, but these last few years you haven’t travelled like you used to.’
‘It doesn’t matter. When I’m in a country like Italy, or France, it sort of comes back to me. I’m often rusty at first, but having spent the last few days on a train where the staff spoke either Italian or French gave me plenty of time to practise. What did you think of Sarah and Giovanni?’
‘I liked them very much. And Giuseppe. The only one I wasn’t keen on was Julia. I thought she was quite hostile towards us. Glowering.’
‘Maybe she was shy about meeting new people,’ said Abigail. ‘She is quite young.’
‘Yes, that’s another thing. How old is Sarah?’
‘Thirty-seven.’
‘And Julia looks about seventeen.’
‘There’s a reason for that,’ said Abigail. ‘Julia’s the daughter by their father’s second wife. Sarah’s mother died when she was fifteen. Her father married again three years later, when Sarah was eighteen. Sarah was twenty-one when she came out to volunteer on the original dig at the Colosseum, and that’s where she met Giovanni. Sarah and Giovanni had a back-and-forth relationship between England and Italy over the next couple of years before they married. Sarah then moved permanently to Italy, but every couple of years she travels to England to visit her father and sister.’
‘And now Julia’s come to stay.’
‘Not permanently. As Sarah said, it’s to get to know Italy. Lots of young people spend time abroad as part of their education.’27
Francesco Bastigna, the trusted adviser to the seventy-eight-year-old Prime Minister of Italy, Giuseppe Saracco, entered the Legato and Company’s small shop in Rome’s industrial quarter and made his way towards the office at the back. The large man standing guard nodded in recognition and knocked on the door, then opened it and announced quietly, ‘Your expected visitor is here, Signor Legato.’
The large man then stood to one side to allow Bastigna to enter the office.
Rocco Legato, an elegantly dressed man in his early forties, rose from his chair behind his desk and stepped forward, his hand outstretched, and the two men shook hands.
‘Welcome, Signor Bastigna,’ said Legato. ‘Thank you for coming here.’
‘I believe it is the safer option,’ said Bastigna. ‘The fewer people who know about our association the better, in order to protect us and our project. That is why I have come alone. Regrettably, I can trust no one in my own offices.’
‘I understand,’ said Legato, gesturing Bastigna to take the chair opposite.
Bastigna sat. This was the second meeting between the two men. The first had come about after Bastigna had expressed his doubts about the Prime Minister’s future to an old political friend. ‘It’s not just his age,’ Bastigna had told his friend. ‘Although people have expressed doubts as to whether a man approaching his eighties can successfully run a country as dysfunctional as Italy. We have the extreme left, the socialists, communists, republicans and radicals, causing chaos in the Chamber of Deputies. We have strike after strike across the country. The assassination of the King was just an extreme 28example of how chaotic this country has become. If we are not careful, another election will see Giuseppe Zanardelli and Giovanni Giolitti sweeping in with a landslide, which will be a disaster for our side. They’ve already forced General Pelloux out.’
His friend nodded. General Luigi Pelloux had been prime minister until he and his party had been forced out of office following a series of political and social upheavals which had led to the government being deemed unstable. The King, Umberto, had asked Saracco, who was seen as a moderate, to form a new unifying government. Unfortunately, it hadn’t had the desired effect. Society was in the same chaos as before, possibly even worse. Even some of Saracco’s supporters were muttering that the old man was out of his depth.
‘We have to make him look electable,’ said Bastigna. ‘And not just by his own side, but the people as a whole. We have to get the people unified behind Saracco, and we have to do it now ahead of the election.’
‘You really believe an election will be called?’ asked his friend. ‘Saracco has only been in power for less than two months.’
‘There will be one, I am sure of it,’ said Bastigna. ‘The country cannot survive if things go on this way.’
His friend fell into a thoughtful silence, then said quietly, ‘You may need to use unorthodox tactics.’
‘I’ll use any tactics, orthodox or otherwise,’ said Bastigna fervently.
‘In that case, it might well be worth your meeting an acquaintance of mine. He gets things done, although his methods are often unorthodox.’29
And so a meeting had been arranged at his friend’s house between Bastigna and Rocco Legato, a businessman who ran an olive oil export business.
‘But olive oil is, shall we say, a cloak for his real business,’ his friend told Bastigna. ‘His real business is sorting out difficult problems. His fees are expensive, but when conventional methods fail, sometimes there is little alternative.’
At that first meeting, Legato had listened as Bastigna explained the predicament he and his political and business colleagues found themselves in.
‘I understand,’ said Legato. ‘I will need to think this over, but I believe I may have a solution. Can I suggest we meet again. Perhaps it might be best to meet at my place of business. If any questions are raised about us meeting, it would be only right that someone like yourself would be interested in olive oil exports and the financial rewards they bring this country.’
Now, at this second meeting at the olive oil exporter’s place of business, Bastigna was keen to hear about the solution Legato had come up with.
‘You have given it some thought?’ asked Bastigna.
‘I have,’ said Legato. ‘And I believe I have a solution. I believe this calls for an assassination.’
CHAPTER FIVE
Friday 10th August
Daniel and Abigail were finishing dressing prior to going down to breakfast, when there was a frantic hammering at the door of their hotel room.
‘Something’s afoot,’ observed Daniel as he strode to the door. He opened it and the portly figure of Giuseppe Saredo rushed in, looking very distressed.
‘A tragedy!’ he exclaimed.
‘What sort of tragedy?’ asked Abigail.
‘Sarah and Giovanni are dead!’
‘Dead?’ repeated Abigail and Daniel stared at him, bewildered. ‘How? What happened?’
‘They were shot. The police believe that Sarah shot Giovanni, then herself.’
‘Nonsense!’ exploded Abigail angrily.
‘I saw the bodies,’ said Giuseppe. ‘At the Colosseum. There was a pistol in Sarah’s hand.’ He gestured at the door. ‘I have a carriage waiting outside to take us there.’
Inside the carriage, as it hurried along the via Cavour, Giuseppe told them what had happened. ‘I arrived early at the site to 31make sure everything was prepared. I know your talk isn’t due to begin until this afternoon, Abigail, but this is the first day of the Festival and it was too important to leave things to chance. Two of the stewards were there already, and they showed me Sarah’s and Giovanni’s bodies. Two police officers had already arrived – the stewards had gone to find them.
‘I told the policemen that Sarah’s sister would be at their flat. I gave them the address and one of them went off to find her.’
‘Did you see the gunshot wounds?’ asked Daniel.
‘No,’ said Giuseppe. ‘To be honest, I was too shaken at the sight of their bodies.’ He shook his head, bewildered. ‘I don’t understand it. What can have happened?’
When they got to the Colosseum, Daniel and Abigail hurried after Giuseppe as he made for three uniformed police officers who were talking to a young woman they recognised as Julia. ‘They’ve removed the bodies,’ Giuseppe told them. ‘That’s where they were when I came for you.’
‘Already?’ said Daniel in surprise. ‘Usually the crime scene remains untouched until a proper examination has been completed.’
‘The schoolchildren will be arriving shortly to do their processions,’ pointed out Giuseppe. ‘They obviously want to clear the area as quickly as possible. And, from what the officer told me when I was here earlier, they don’t see it as a crime to investigate. Their belief is that Sarah shot Giovanni and then shot herself.’
He hurried towards where Julia was talking to the three uniformed officers. ‘The tall one with all the gold braid is Inspector Volpetti,’ said Giuseppe.32
‘What’s he like?’ asked Daniel.
‘Useless,’ groaned Giuseppe.
As they reached the small group, they saw that Julia was in great distress. She kept repeating ‘This is all my fault’ in Italian.
Abigail translated their Italian conversation for Daniel’s benefit.
‘It is not your fault, Julia,’ said Giuseppe, interrupting the girl and the police officers.
‘It is!’ insisted Julia. ‘Giovanni had been chasing me soon after I arrived in Rome. I resisted him, but a couple of days ago Sarah came in and found us in a compromising situation. It led to a furious row between Sarah and Giovanni, and later between Sarah and me. She accused me of flaunting myself to him. That must be why she shot him, and then herself. Because of me!’
The officer with the gold braid on his uniform, Inspector Volpetti, patted her shoulder sympathetically and reassured her she was not responsible.
‘In that case, can I go?’ asked Julia. ‘I can’t stay here, where it happened. I must go home.’
‘Of course,’ said Volpetti.
‘We shall go with you,’ said Giuseppe.
‘No,’ said Julia. ‘I have to be alone.’
‘It’s not a good time to be alone,’ said Abigail. ‘Please, let me accompany you.’
‘No,’ snapped Julia. ‘I want to be alone!’
With that, she almost ran from the spot.
‘She is understandably very distressed,’ said Volpetti. He looked at Giuseppe. ‘Signor Saredo, I believe you were the one who discovered the bodies.’33
‘No, two of my stewards were the ones who found them. One of them had gone to find a police officer while the other kept guard. Then I arrived and discovered the tragedy. I left to tell the couple’s English friends.’ He gestured at Daniel and Abigail. ‘Mr and Mrs Wilson. Mrs Wilson is a famous archaeologist who is giving a talk at the Festival.’
‘But you saw the bodies, Signor Saredo?’
‘I did.’
‘The woman had a pistol in her hand?’
‘She did.’
‘Then what we have just heard from Miss Julia Winstanley confirms what happened. The woman shot her husband, and then herself.’
With that, Volpetti and the two uniformed officers walked off.
‘Did she really say that Giovanni was pursuing her?’ asked Daniel, surprised.
‘Yes,’ said Abigail curtly. ‘And I don’t believe it.’
‘But why should she lie?’
‘Who knows,’ said Abigail.
‘I telegraphed Paolo before I came to get you,’ said Giuseppe. ‘Knowing Paolo, he’ll get here as soon as he can.’ He shook his head, worn down by the tragedy. ‘I can’t believe it! Sarah and Giovanni were a perfect couple. They were devoted to one another. There were never any rumours of affairs or either of them being involved with other people. That’s why I find it hard to believe this story of Julia’s.’
‘You and me both,’ said Abigail grimly.
Giuseppe looked at them, helplessness on his face. ‘I ought to go to the Forum to adjust the programme. Giovanni was 34due to give a talk tomorrow, but I can’t face it at the moment. It’s all too much of a shock.’ He looked at Abigail and Daniel and asked, ‘You are famous for being the Museum Detectives. If Volpetti refuses to investigate their deaths, can you look into this and find out what happened?’
‘Us?’ said Abigail in surprise. ‘Surely that’s for the police.’
Giuseppe shook his head. ‘You heard what Volpetti said. The police have already made their minds up. Sarah shot Giovanni and then killed herself. There’ll be no investigation.’
‘But that’s just an allegation because of the story that Julia told,’ said Abigail. ‘Surely they won’t just accept it at face value without looking into it.’
