read the notice-board full of trips and offers of accommodation and old cars for sale, and finally stared out of the window wondering why time so often seemed to drag along so slowly. It was unlike most schools; no bell signaled the end of lessons, there was no sudden outburst of noise and movement as the pupils cascaded out of the classrooms. This was a serious place, mainly for students dissatisfied with the teaching at the university, or businessmen trying to show how keen they were to get on, or people who wanted jobs in the town's hotels and needed to be able to talk to the guests.
Very dull, little life. Flavia scarcely noticed any of it as she was lost in a particularly distant pattern of thoughts; only when Elena Fortini tapped her on the shoulder did she return to earth and turn round.
'They said I had a visitor,' she began. 'I'm glad you didn't say who you are.”
'Can we go somewhere quiet?”
Elena shrugged. 'Fine. Inside or out? It's a nice day. Let's go for a walk. If you're up to it.”
She was, but only for about ten minutes, then she began to feel extraordinarily weary, so they went into a hotel Flavia had stayed in once before, many years ago, and ordered a bottle of cold water and coffee, and sat in a small cloister in the shade. It was almost too beautiful to talk of anything serious. So they didn't, for a while, but sat quietly together, with Flavia more and more convinced that her instincts were—must be—superior to any other evidence.
There was, though, only one way to find out. 'I've been looking into you, and into Sabbatini,' she said. 'And getting conflicting reports. Like your being known in your past for excessive violence and cruelty. I was also told that Sabbatini never thought up his own stunts. They were always designed and planned by you, who stayed safely in the background. 'I've also caught you out in a particular lie. You said you hadn't heard from Sabbatini in ten years. That wasn't true.”
Elena smiled. 'Can you prove it?”
'As near as I need to. He phoned your school in February. It's in his phone records.”
'And how could you know that?' she said scornfully.
'You mean, how could I know when he used a public phone? Simple. Because he was an idiot and used a charge card to pay for it.”
'Doesn't mean I spoke to him. Maybe I was teaching.”
'That can be checked, no doubt.”
'Or out for a coffee.”
'The phone call lasted thirteen minutes. It doesn't take that long to be told you're not there.”
'So I forgot. Sorry. It slipped my mind.”
'Ettore Dossoni.' Flavia noted the sudden caution in the woman's pose as she mentioned the name.
'What about him?”
'He's the one who says you are exceptionally violent and dangerous.”
'If he's right, it's risky of you to tell me, then.”
'He's now a journalist, and rang me up soon after the theft to make inquiries. He says Sabbatini tried to persuade him to publicize the whole thing. He also is lying.”
'Very perceptive of you.' She smiled. 'No, I mean it. I'm not being entirely sarcastic.
Go on, please.”
'I'm fairly certain he got his information from somewhere in the government, at least. He was checking up on me, to make sure I was being as discreet as instructed.
He was working for the security services twenty years ago, and probably still is in some form. A couple of hours after I talked to him, someone put a car outside my apartment, which worries me.”
'So it should,' she said, suddenly serious.
'Why?”
'Go on talking to me. I might tell you later, depending on what you say.”
'As far as I know it now, the events went like this: Sabbatini steals the picture on Monday, and plans some grand coup for the following Friday, the anniversary of his sister's death. On Wednesday, a ransom demand arrives. Two days later I—or rather my colleague—hands over the ransom money down the Appian Way and recovers the picture. End of story. But.”
Elena Fortini looked at her inquiringly.
'But who handed the picture back and took the money? There are two possibilities.
One is Dossoni, the other is you.”
She turned to see how this suggestion was received. It was not received very well.
Elena Fortini took a sip of water, and shook her head.
'Wrong,' she said simply. 'Or at least, wrong in your conclusions about me. I can't comment on Dossoni, of course. However, all that evening I was teaching a long revision class that went on until past ten o'clock. The students had a big exam on Monday and needed a lot of help. I have twenty people to prove I was here. And if you think I could get from a classroom in Siena to the Appian Way in under two hours, you have a higher estimation of my poor old car than it deserves.”
'I'm open to suggestions.”
'And what would you do if I did tell you something of interest?”
'I don't know. My original intention was to tidy up loose ends and save everybody embarrassment. Like a good public servant. It seems to have got a bit beyond that. I thought I was dealing with a stolen picture. The picture seems only a small part of it now. Although part of what I do not know. But Sabbatini is dead, his sister was murdered, a large amount of money has gone missing. And no one wants me to look into it at all. I'd like to know why, and get people off my back.”
'If that's the case then I won't tell you anything,' Elena said. 'I'm not going to break cover just to make you feel comfortable. It's too dangerous. And I'm not being melodramatic.”
Flavia looked at her seriously. 'Look, I could arrest you as an accessory. I won't—won't even threaten it. You can sit there, drink your coffee, say nothing, walk out.
There will be no consequences, no reports, nothing. If you tell me what you know, if there is anything I can do about it, I will. But I must be honest; I doubt there is.”
Elena rocked herself back and forth and thought. 'So do I.' She paused, then took a deep breath. 'I kidnapped Maria di Lanna. Was that in your files?”
'No.”
'Good. I was worried about Maurizio when he was arrested. Courage was not his strong point, and I knew that he would say anything to get himself out of trouble. We needed something to make sure he realized that he had to keep quiet. Kidnapping Maria was a message he could not fail to understand.”
Flavia stopped herself from saying that shooting her in the head probably got through as well.
'So we took her, and held her. A nice woman, oddly. Desperately spoiled, of course, but no whiner. I liked her. She was upset and frightened, obviously, but we reassured her it was only for a week, then she calmed down. It was true, as well. We planned to hold her only for long enough for Maurizio to hear about it and get the message.
'The day before we planned to let her go, the police came. The army, whatever. I was out; Maria said she wanted some cornflakes, so I went to the shop to get them for her. I also bought her a little cake. With a candle. We were going to have a little party that evening to say good-bye. Can you believe it?' She shook her head. 'I even bought some party hats.
'No party. I saw the cars draw up as I was coming out of the shop, so I watched from the distance. I heard the gunfire, saw the troops storm in, heard my comrades and friends being killed. Pop pop pop. They didn't even fire back; it was too much of a surprise. Five people in there, all killed within seconds.' She paused. 'You don't look very shocked.”
'Should I be?”
'I suppose not. All that I want to say is that there was no attempt to arrest anybody.
It was shoot to kill, no questions asked. We expected it in one way, but it was still a shock. A long time ago, and not important. What is important is that after all the shooting was over, I saw Maria. Alive and well, being bundled out of the house and into a waiting car.”
'She was alive? She was rescued? Are you certain?
'Alive and unharmed. Believe me, I can never forget it; as she was being led to the car she looked across the
