Ever since he’d met Alice, he’d been obsessed with her, and her generous distribution of tasty nibbles to him in the course of this evening had only cemented their relationship further. As a result, he had spent most of the meal either sitting alongside me, or more often positioned beside Alice, looking up at her adoringly – and receiving yet more food in return for his idolatry. And yet, he had now transferred his attention to the lonely figure of Lucy O’Connell.
Or had he?
I called the proceedings to order.
‘Right, ladies and gentlemen, I think it’s time we solved this murder.’ As I spoke, I walked through the tables across to where Lucy O’Connell was sitting with Oscar at her side and I stopped when I reached her table. ‘Here, ladies and gentlemen, unless I’m very much mistaken, you will find the ever-resourceful wife of the Doge, whose cunning ruse has allowed her to avoid assassination.’ I pointed at the figure in Lucy O’Connell’s costume. ‘Would you like to stand up and tell everybody the truth,Donna Alicia?’
I was gratified to hear at least a couple of gasps of surprise behind me and even more gratified to see the figure dressed in Lucy O’Connell’s clothes slowly stand up and reach for her mask. She pulled it off and revealed what I had suspected. Alice had swapped clothes and masks with Lucy, so as to confound the murderer and her guests, and there was even a little ripple of applause. At this point, I decided to hand over the big reveal to the party organiser.
‘And now, Donna Alicia, it’s over to you to tell us exactly what happened. Who just tried – and failed – to murder you?’
She headed for the centre of the terrace and as she passed me, she murmured quietly in my ear, ‘Selena said you were good.’ She stopped when she reached the middle of the group ofguests and launched into her explanation. It was a bit tortuous, and I had a feeling that the logic wouldn’t have stood up to close scrutiny in a court of law, but everybody listened, most of them apparently riveted, as she revealed that the murderer had in fact been the character played by Dirk Foster. He, Don Dirco, had once had a relationship with the Doge’s wife that had ended when he’d been unfaithful to her. Since then, he had lived in fear of her taking her revenge against him and had chosen to strike first, before she could tarnish his reputation.
I studied the faces around me as she related the backstory that so closely reflected the events that had really happened in Alice’s past. As the murder mystery was now over, most of the guests had removed their masks, and I was able to observe their reactions to this story. Quite clearly, it didn’t come as such a surprise to at least some of them. As for Dirk Foster, his face displayed a range of emotions from outrage and anger to something more akin to embarrassment and, before Alice had even finished talking, he leapt to his feet and disappeared into the dark. His departure was followed by another ripple of applause led by Greg Gupta, who stood up and walked over to where Lucy O’Connell was still playing the part of the murdered woman.
‘It’s all right, Lucy, you can straighten up now. The big bad wolf’s gone.’ He touched Lucy’s shoulder and immediately stepped back with a shocked expression on his face, casting a despairing look in my direction. ‘Something bad’s happened. Something very bad.’
I hurried across and did what I had almost done fifteen minutes earlier. I placed my finger against the side of her throat in search of a pulse but found nothing. I tried again, but still without success. My mind was racing. The premonition I had been feeling had been justified. The murder mystery game had suddenly become a real murder. It was a struggle to get my headround what had just happened. Finally, accepting the inevitable, I straightened up and turned around slowly. ‘I’m afraid it looks as though she’s dead.’
There was a boo from the far side of the terrace. ‘Damn actors, always trying to milk it. Cut, sweetheart, cut. Your scene’s over.’ Jack Sloane’s slurred voice was unmistakable, and his comment raised a few sardonic laughs.
I held up my hands to quell the merriment. ‘I’m afraid I’m not joking. This is for real. Lucy O’Connell is dead.’ I took out a tissue and used it as I gently loosened and removed her mask. The blank, staring eyes on the tabletop told their own story, and I heard gasps from several of those closest to the table. In case there were still any doubters, I lifted the convincing blonde wig from her head, revealing her short hair beneath. The jocular mood across the terrace died, and I turned and searched the shadows for Diego or Valentina. Spotting them over by the kitchen door, I called across to them.
‘Contact the emergency services now – police and ambulance.’ As they stood there, rooted to the spot, I raised the intensity in my voice. ‘A woman’s dead. Call them.Now!’
As Diego turned and scuttled back indoors, I set about securing the crime scene – if, indeed, it had been a crime. A drug addict ending up dead didn’t always imply foul play. Maybe Lucy had overdosed. Automatically, as I’d done so many times before, I did my best to memorise where everybody had been seated, wishing I’d thought to tuck my notebook in my pantaloons. I called Valentina over and asked her if she could organise some coffees and maybe something a little stronger for anybody who felt the need. I positioned her son and daughter several metres from the victim with instructions to ensure that nobody came any closer than that. Once I was certain that nobody was going to interfere with the crime scene, I walked over to where Alice wasstill standing, motionless. Her face was deadly pale. I recognised the signs of shock and took her arm, leading her to a seat, where she collapsed in a heap and looked up despairingly at me.
‘That could have been me, Dan. Whoever did that thought they were killingme.’ There was abject terror in her voice, and I did my best to reassure her – for now.
‘At this stage, we don’t know whether Lucy really has been murdered, Alice. She was a drug addict. You know that, don’t you? Maybe it was self-inflicted. The police will be here soon and they’ll get to the bottom of it. Please try not to worry.’ Automatically, as I had done many times in my career, I tried to sound as comforting as possible although, deep down, my gut was telling me that something far worse than suicide had just taken place here.
Predictably, Oscar positioned himself at Alice’s side again with his nose on her knee, doing his best to add a bit of canine support. She looked as if she needed it but, I reminded myself, she was a very talented actor, after all. The brutal truth was that if Lucy O’Connell really had been murdered, her killer was almost certainly one of the people close by me right now.
And nobody was above suspicion.
16
SATURDAY NIGHT
The police arrived barely twenty minutes later. I half-expected to see Virgilio’s friend, Inspector Giulia Trevisan, but the first to arrive were a sergeant and two constables, closely followed by an ambulance boat with two paramedics and a doctor.
Diego showed the doctor to the victim, and it took little more than a few seconds for her to pronounce Lucy O’Connell dead. No sooner had she stepped away from the body than the sergeant and his men began to move in. I was appalled to see that none of them were wearing gloves and I couldn’t stop myself from remonstrating with them.
‘Sergeant, you do realise that this could be murder, don’t you? Shouldn’t you be wearing gloves and preferably overalls?’
He turned and looked me up and down with an exasperated expression. He was probably around my age, and one look at his face told me that I was wasting my time if I hoped he would listen to me. In case I was in any doubt, he went on to tell me as much. ‘Thank you, sir, but I don’t need advice from members of the public. I’ve seen this kind of thing often enough in my career. For your information, it’s clear to me that this wasn’t murder. Thevictim was a drug addict. Anybody can see that.’ He pointed at Lucy’s pathetically thin arms. ‘See that bruising? That’s typical of addicts. This person has died of an overdose, and I’d be grateful if you would step back and let me get on with my job.’
I’ve always had an obstinate streak – ask my ex-wife – and I wasn’t going to stand by and see a crime scene contaminated by a trio of heavy-handed coppers, so I tried again, this time addressing myself to the doctor.
‘Doctor, is the officer right? Because if he isn’t, his boss is going to be very unhappy at him for contaminating a crime scene.’ I deliberately made my voice loud enough for the three police officers to hear. ‘Is it possible that the victim was murdered?’
I was relieved to see her step back towards the body again, studying it more closely. ‘The sergeant could well be right about the victim being a drug addict, but there’s no way of knowing whether that’s what killed her until we do an autopsy. Certainly, if you’re putting me on the spot and asking me to tell you whether it was misadventure or murder, I can’t do that.’
We both looked across at the sergeant expectantly. I could tell that he was peeved – and on one level, I didn’t blame him. After all, who was this nobody, trying to teach him his job? Seeing him looking uncertain, I decided to play my joker.
‘Why not give Inspector Trevisan a call and see what she says? It can’t hurt.’
His expression became more wary. ‘How do you know Inspector Trevisan?’
