1
MONDAY MORNING
That Monday started off pretty much the same as any other Monday – until I received a phone call. It came as I was sitting at a table outside a little café just on the edge of Florence’scentro storico, enjoying an espresso before heading back to the office. It was only ten o’clock in the morning, but the temperature was already soaring. July in Florence can be very, very hot, and the presence of tens, if not hundreds, of thousands of tourists in the city didn’t make things any easier. Oscar was sprawled in the shade at my feet with his tongue out. Although he was born here, it can’t be a bundle of fun walking around in a black fur coat all the time. It had been a potentially stressful last half-hour, and I had brought him along in the hope that his presence might be of some comfort to Signora Benedetti – but as it had turned out, his presence, while welcome, hadn’t been necessary.
In my relatively new career as a private investigator, it hadn’t taken me long to realise that a considerable amount of my time was going to be occupied with cases involving marital infidelity. Whether this is a reflection on the dubious quality of television here in Italy, or whether there’s some deep-rooted Latin loverinstinct buried inside so many Italian men, it had rapidly become clear to me that a considerable proportion of the Italian male population view fidelity as a challenge rather than an obligation. This morning, I had had to break the news to a client named Signora Benedetti that her suspicions about her husband had been fully justified and I had handed her over a collection of incriminating photos of him with his paramour to prove it. Interestingly, her reaction had not been what might have been expected. Instead of anger or grief, I had distinctly sensed satisfaction, and it hadn’t taken me long to work out that she was only too pleased to have been handed the proof she needed to divorce him and make a fresh start.
It was as I sat and sipped my scalding-hot coffee that the call came through. To my considerable surprise, I saw that it was from Selena. Selena Gardner was one of the most famous and recognisable faces – and bodies – in the world. She was an acting superstar who had appeared in countless movies and could rightly be considered as at the pinnacle of her profession, a true Hollywood icon. I had met her almost two years earlier when she had been in Florence making a movie, and I had helped the local police track down a delusional killer intent on stopping production of the film by any means, including murder. I hadn’t heard from her since then and I hadn’t expected to. She inhabited a very different world from my own, so my curiosity was immediately aroused by the call.
‘Hi, Selena, long time no speak.’
‘Dan, darling, how wonderful to speak to you.’ Her voice was like warm caramel, and in spite of my being in a very happy relationship with my fiancée, Anna, I still felt a thrill. Of course, I reminded myself, she was an actor, and turning on the charm was second nature to her. Still, I had to admit that she did soundgenuinely pleased to speak to me. ‘First things first, have you married Anna yet?’
I couldn’t help smiling. Two years ago, it had been her matchmaking that had thrown Anna and me together. ‘Not yet, but I’ve asked her to marry me, and she’s said yes.’
I heard her give a happy chortle. ‘I knew it! I said you were perfect for each other, didn’t I?’ She didn’t give me a chance to reply. ‘Do give her my love, won’t you?’
I promised her that I would, and we exchanged a few more pleasantries. She told me she was in Paris to pick up an award – she sounded less than thrilled at the prospect of yet another accolade – but that it was a flying visit, and she wouldn’t have time to come to Tuscany. She promised that she would come sooner or later, and I said she was always welcome, all the while wondering what had made this cinema legend decide to contact a mere mortal like me. It wasn’t long before she satisfied my curiosity.
‘Dan, darling, you’ve heard of Alice Graceland, haven’t you?’
I certainly had. ‘TheAlice Graceland?’ Alice Graceland was another superstar of the cinema, British rather than American, probably around my age. Over the past four decades, she had been every bit as much of a celebrity as Selena was now, starting as a stunningly beautiful starlet playing opposite cinema legends and household names. Over the past ten years, she had become known to television viewers the world over for her role as Elisa Banbury, supersleuth, a modern-day, younger and sexier Miss Marple, with a plethora of movies and TV series to her name. I, like so many of my contemporaries, had enjoyed watching the beautiful Englishwoman as she solved apparently insoluble crimes from London to Los Angeles. What, I wondered, had such a celebrity to do with me?
Selena didn’t leave me in suspense for long. ‘Yes, I’ve knownAlice for years now. I’ve acted alongside her a few times, and we live not far from each other in Beverly Hills. Anyway, we were talking, and she wants you to call her.’
‘She wants to talk tome? She knows who I am?’
‘She does now.’
‘Wow!’
My mind was racing. Why me? Could it be my books? All my life, I’d dreamt of becoming a published author and now, since giving up my job as a detective chief inspector at Scotland Yard three years earlier, I had finally found the time to write a couple of whodunnits and, to my amazement, had had the great good fortune to find a publisher prepared to publish them. The books were selling pretty well, but I hadn’t realised that my fame might now have extended to Hollywood. ‘Did she say why she wants me to call her?’ Thoughts of a possible movie contract flashed through my head. Might this mean that my books might end up being turned into films?
Selena’s answer wasn’t what I was expecting.
‘She’s having a party, and she wants to invite you.’
‘She wants me to come to her party?’ I couldn’t believe my ears. I felt a movement at my feet and I glanced down to see Oscar staring up at me with a concerned look on his face. I reached down and gave his ears a reassuring scratch as Selena replied.
‘It’s not just a social call. She asked me to ask you to call her as soon as possible ona matter of importance.’
My mind was racing. Importance to whom? To her or to me? I felt a wave of excitement shoot through me as Selena rattled off Alice Graceland’s phone number, and I realised as I wrote it down that it was an Italian number. Presumably, this meant she was here in the country. Might I even get to meet this legendary star?
Selena and I chatted a bit more before she blew me a couple of kisses and the call ended, leaving me intrigued to find out why Alice Graceland,theAlice Graceland, wanted to talk to me.
I set the phone back on the table and looked down at Oscar. Aware that he was being observed, he started thumping the end of his tail softly against the ground, and I took this as a sign of interest.
‘Alice Graceland, Oscar! Do you know what this might mean?’
No doubt stirred by the enthusiasm in my voice, he pulled himself to his feet and looked up at me with his head resting against my knee.
‘Alice Graceland is a big, huge star, just about as big as it gets, cinema and TV royalty, maybe even bigger than Selena. If she wants to see me, might this mean she’s read my books? Could this be the start of something amazing?’
The end of his tail wagged another couple of times before he decided that he would leave me to make the phone call by myself. He settled back down again with a sigh, and I saw his eyes close as he relaxed once more. As I looked down at him, I reflected that I would do well to follow his example. There was no point in getting too excited at this stage. Alice Graceland was most likely interested in employing me in my role as a private investigator, no doubt on the recommendation of Selena. She probably didn’t even know I’d written the books. Alternatively, maybe she was simply on the lookout for some information about police procedure from a real-life ex-copper to help her acting career. I made a conscious effort to dampen my enthusiasm before picking the phone up again. I swallowed the last of my coffee, almost scalding my tongue in the process, but feeling that I needed the caffeine boost, before punching in the number and pressing the green button.
My call was answered almost immediately by the voice of a woman who hedged her bets by giving me a bilingual greeting.
‘Pronto, hello.’
