‘What about the actors?’
‘Scarpa is interviewing them as we speak. As you can imagine, they’re pretty disgruntled that they’ve had to stay here overnight. They must have had an uncomfortable night. We’ve been checking their backgrounds, but we’ve found no dark secrets and nothing to link them with Lucy O’Connell, so it’s unlikely that there’s going to be any connection between any of them and the second victim either. It’s the same with the staff. There’s nothing that seems suspicious but, at least, we should be able to draw up a detailed picture of who was where when. The lab says that the poison was in the victim’s fruit salad, and that was only served about ten or fifteen minutes before Lucy O’Connell’s death, so hopefully, we should be able to find out if anybody was seen near the victim’s table during that limited time period. Other people had the fruit salad with no ill effects, so the poison must have been slipped into hers alone.’ She got to her feet. ‘If you’re ready, let’s go and talk to the main suspects.’
21
SUNDAY MORNING
The interviews lasted most of the morning and they didn’t throw up any great surprises. Alice repeated for the inspector’s benefit what she’d told me about Groves and his abuse of Lucy O’Connell, and about the man falling to his death at Carlos Rodriguez’s party. Mary told us about growing up in England, her university studies, particularly her interest in the film industry, and her plans for the future. By the end of her interview, I found it hard to believe that she could be our murderer, but I didn’t write her off quite yet. She had certainly had the opportunity, but I was at a loss to come up with compelling motive for murder.
Desmond Norman looked stunned, but after two suspicious deaths in the space of a few hours, he had every right to look shocked. He freely admitted that he ‘might have’ propositioned Alice many years ago, but claimed that he didn’t recall the specific conversation, and, of course, if he had done so, it would have been a joke. From his vagueness, even if we were charitable and bore in mind that this was an eighty-five-year-old man after all, the takeaway for both the inspector and for me was that in those days, such indecent propositions had been the norm ratherthan the exception, and there was a rotten taste in my mouth when the door closed behind him.
Dirk Foster repeated his confession of having cheated on Alice twenty-five years earlier and then doing the same to Lucy ten years ago, but he insisted that he’d never wished either of them any harm – and there certainly was no question of him wanting to kill either woman.
Carlos Rodriguez allowed himself to be reminded of the accident at his party all those years ago – ‘What a terrible thing to happen!’ – but he steadfastly repeated that he had been in the cellar at the time. When the inspector told him that this was contrary to what Alice claimed to have seen, he dismissed her testimony as, ‘The ravings of a junkie; everybody knew she was doing cocaine.’
Greg Gupta, who was the next to be interviewed, came across as telling the truth when he claimed to have no motive whatsoever for killing either of the victims. When Giulia ask him about the suicide tree, he looked genuinely bewildered. If it was an act, it was a good one – and he was a scriptwriter, not an actor.
Freddie Baker was monosyllabic and totally unforthcoming but he, too, claimed to have been on good terms with both victims and he became decidedly prickly at what he described as the ‘baseless insinuation’ that he might have committed murder. His card for the murder mystery had only said that he was a fantasist and a liar but hadn’t levelled any more serious allegations at him, so maybe he was telling the truth. He went on to refuse to say anything else until his lawyer was present. When asked, he informed us that his lawyer was in Los Angeles, so we would have to wait if we wanted to interview him further. He then started moaning at Giulia about being kept here and told her he would be contacting the American ambassador in Rometo complain in the strongest possible terms. Definitely not a happy bunny.
His companion, Antoinette Latour, appeared only too keen to help us with our inquiries but, fundamentally, it was clear that she knew very little about either of the victims. She told us that she was an artist and her relationship with Freddie Baker had started only a couple of months ago. From the impression I had already gained from her, I had the feeling the relationship wasn’t going to last much longer.
This left us with Maggie McBride, who didn’t mince her words when talking about her hostess. The ‘sleeping around’ comment in the book had gone down like a lead balloon, and the inspector had to struggle to tear her away from repeatedly bemoaning the scandalous – and of course completely unfounded – slur on her character and steer her onto the subject of the two deaths. McBride claimed to have liked both victims and scoffed at the idea that anybody might consider her a murderer. When Giulia suggested that the poison in Lucy’s fruit salad might have been intended for Alice, McBride disclaimed all knowledge but, from her facial expression, it was clear it wouldn’t have saddened her if the poisoner had hit the intended target. Given her already incandescent state, the inspector wisely avoided any mention of the husband-poisoning comment on her murder mystery card for now.
Her young partner, Rocco Gentile, was a New Yorker of Sicilian extraction who spoke a weird form of broken Sicilian dialect mixed with Americanisms, virtually incomprehensible to either the inspector or to me, so we conducted the interview in English. By the sound of it, he was a would-be actor and he told us proudly of a part he’d been offered in one of Maggie McBride’s upcoming movies. I couldn’t help reflecting that Hollywood’s casting couches weren’t just reserved for ambitious youngwomen. As for the investigation, he told us that he and Maggie McBride had only recently got together and they didn’t do a lot of talking; presumably they had other ways of passing the time. In consequence, he was unable to offer any help.
The last of the group to be seen was Alastair Groves, followed by his wife. Groves made an attempt to bluster his way out of the allegations of having taken advantage of seventeen-year-old Lucy, but he soon followed Freddie Baker’s lead and refused to comment further about that without his lawyer being present. His wife, on the other hand, was clearly made of sterner stuff and she embarked on an aggressive defence of her husband – to whom she had been married at the time of the Lucy O’Connell saga. When she finally left the room, hurling accusations at everybody from Inspector Trevisan to the President of the Republic, and probably Oscar and me as well, I was glad to see the back of her. I found myself wondering which of the two I would have put my money on if Sandra Groves were ever to meet Maggie McBride in a boxing ring. Definitely two tough cookies.
Giulia and I finally emerged from the dining room at just after half-past eleven and went over to the bench by the greenhouse, where we sat down and enjoyed a bit of fresh air while Oscar went off to water the plants. She turned towards me and raised an eyebrow.
‘Well,Commissario, who’s your money on?’
‘If you’d asked me at midnight last night who was most likely to have tried to murder Alice, I would have said Jack Sloane without a doubt. He had a lot to lose and he certainly struck me as a tough enough character to be able to carry out a simple poisoning. Now that he’s dead, I suppose the question we have to ask ourselves is whether we think he was responsible for last night’s death and then took his own life, or whether we’re looking for a different person who came here to kill him and Alice, orwho killed Lucy and then callously killed Sloane to try to incriminate him for that murder.’
She nodded in agreement. ‘I think we’re looking for one murderer, not two. My feeling is that whoever killed Lucy O’Connell also killed Jack Sloane.’
‘I agree with you, not least because of the unusual poison being used in both cases. I’m convinced that Lucy wasn’t the original target last night. I definitely believe that the poison was intended for Alice Graceland. Is that what you think?’
‘I do. We have any number of suspects who stood to lose a lot in prestige, or possibly even face serious legal complications, if that book ever got published. Any one of them would have been delighted to see Alice Graceland dead. What I’ve been trying to work out is whether one of them might have wanted to kill herandSloane, but I’m struggling to find a motive for both.’
I did a bit of thinking. ‘One thing I’m sure you’ve noticed is that the bedroom doors don’t have locks. I suppose that’s because Alice wanted to keep the feel of a private house, rather than a hotel. This means that anybody could have gained access to Sloane’s room last night to spike his drink. On that basis, everybody on the island had opportunity and, with a poisonous plant only a few feet away, they would also have had means. The poisoner most probably sneaked over to Sloane’s room and spiked his drink on Saturday night while the party was taking place. As you say, what we need to discover is the possible motive anybody might have had for wanting both Alice – or maybe Lucy – and Sloane dead.’ Another thought crossed my mind. ‘I can’t remember anybody leaving the party except for one. When Alice handed out the cards, Dirk Foster stormed off and didn’t return until you arrived – but I’m lost for a motive for him to have poisoned Sloane.’
Giulia’s phone bleeped and she glanced at it. ‘Theinterpreter’s arrived, so you’re in the clear from now on, Dan. Thanks a lot for all your help. I’m going to organise a fingertip search of all the rooms, just in case we get lucky and find some trace of the poison.’ She waved vaguely at the surrounding walls. ‘Although it would be the easiest thing in the world to climb up onto the battlements and drop any incriminating evidence in the lagoon. Scarpa should have finished interviewing the staff and actors by now and, unless he’s unearthed any surprises, I’m going to let the actors leave the island with strict instructions not to go to the media. Hopefully, Scarpa should also have been able to draw up a plan of who was where at the time of Lucy O’Connell’s murder. The killer needed to get close enough to her table to poison onlyherfruit salad.’ She gave me a wry smile. ‘In an ideal world, we would find that only one or two people went near her, but, as you and I both know, we don’t live in an ideal world.’
After she’d gone off, I climbed up onto the battlements and did a full circuit of the island, looking inwards as well as outwards. I found no trace of a container that might have held the poison or anything compromising – like a pair of discarded gloves. All I spotted was a very smart-looking speedboat moored up in front of Diego’s launch on the jetty. Presumably this was Freddie Baker’s chosen means of transport. Once again, I marvelled at a city where, instead of renting a car, you rented a boat to get around. Venice certainly is a unique place.
Back in my room, I picked up Alice’s book and looked up the chapter headed ‘Falsehoods and Fabrications’ for mention of Freddie Baker, but I found little of interest apart from the confirmation of what Antoinette had told me and what Alice had written on his card. According to Alice’s book, Freddie Baker had a reputation as a fantasist who invented facts to suit his purposes, a purveyor of fake news. He was apparently not above writing his own glowing reviews and exaggerating his own success. Iremembered what he’d told Jack Sloane yesterday lunchtime and I managed to find a website listing the biggest-grossing movies of the past years. I had to scroll a long way down last year’s list to findDancing and Singing, the musical about which Sloane had been so scathing, and which Baker had claimed to have grossed half a billion dollars. The figure given on the list – updated barely a month ago – was just over two hundred million dollars – still a lot of money, but nowhere near half a billion. However, none of this gave me any indication of why he might have come here determined to murder two people.
As I looked around the interior of the fortress, I spotted Diego and his son setting up their drinks stall under the pergola. It wasn’t noon yet, but I needed a refreshing drink.
I glanced down at Oscar, who was casually scratching his ear with his hind leg. ‘Fancy a beer?’
I don’t give him beer, but he knows that it normally comes with crisps or salted biscuits, so he abandoned his toilette and headed for the nearest staircase, tail wagging.
22
SUNDAY LATE MORNING
Diego saw me coming and he was already pulling out my replica Renaissance mug and two bottles of ice-cold beer by the time I got to him. He filled the mug to the top and handed it over to me.
