1
MONDAY EVENING
Modestly speaking – well, not that modestly if the truth be told – it was a good meal, maybe an excellent meal. Apart from how it might have tasted, the thing that had obviously struck Tricia more than anything was the fact thatIhad cooked it. I’m always pleased to see my daughter, and it was extra pleasing to have her and her fiancé here in Tuscany with me for a few days. I could understand her surprise at the sight of a meal prepared by me. I never used to cook much back home in London but, in fairness, I’d had a very time-consuming and hands-on job as a detective chief inspector in the Metropolitan Police murder squad, and food had been left to my ex-wife and far too many takeaways. Now that I’d retired from the force, moved to Italy and got divorced, I’d had time to learn at least some of the culinary arts – and Tuscany’s a perfect place for learning how to cook.
I had promised my new fiancée, Anna, that I would make dinner, and it appeared to have been well received. Although I had been getting better with roasting stuff in the oven, I had decided that a barbecue was probably the safer way to go and had produced a mixed grill of steak, pork chops, chicken breastsand the wonderful Tuscan sausages split down the middle and spatchcock grilled. Along with these I had grilled slices of aubergine and courgette, liberally drizzled with olive oil, and skewers of red and green peppers with baby vine tomatoes from my own little vegetable garden. As a starter, I had stuck with traditional Tuscan – a mixed platter of cured ham and different salami, particularly my favouritefinocchionawith its delicate fennel taste. I coupled this with slices of soft local goat’s cheese and a simple green salad – once again home-grown.
Anna and Tricia had spent most of the afternoon huddled together at the far side of the pergola, making plans for the two weddings – Tricia with Shaun, and Anna with me. Shaun and I, wisely, had kept out of the way and had spent a pleasant hour down at the water hole – a widening of the little stream that ran down the hill just below my old house – with my very happy Labrador. It was high summer and the temperature, as so often here in Tuscany, had gone through the roof. It was bad enough for us humans, but Oscar in his fur coat had been only too happy to splash about and cool off in the water.
When nobody could eat any more – apart from my ever-hungry dog, of course – I cleared away the plates and brought out the dessert. Anna is the expert when it comes to sweet stuff, so I had taken the easy way out and bought a big tub of home-made meringue ice cream from Leonardo at the local gelateria in Montevolpone, a short walk down the track from where I live up here in the midst of the olive groves and vineyards. Served with a mountain of fresh strawberries, this also appeared to go down well.
After making coffees, I sat back at the end of the meal and relaxed. As I did so, Anna reached over and laid an affectionate hand on my arm.
‘I could get used to this,carissimo.’ Although my Italian ispretty fluent after three years here, her English is better, and we normally talk to each other in my language. She gave me a big smile. ‘You’re not such a bad cook, you know. I’ll be more than happy to hand over cooking duties to you once we’re married.’
Luckily, I had already prepared a cover story. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it. You’re so much better at cooking than I am. Let’s face it, if we both were to eat like this every night, we’d probably explode within months.’
She grinned and pointed down at Oscar, who was still happily – and noisily – demolishing the T-bone left over from the steak. ‘You’re right. We’ve already got one glutton in the family.’
Relieved that I wasn’t going to be pressed into permanent cooking duty, I gently approached the subject of our wedding. ‘So what have you and Tricia decided? I’m assuming you’re not planning on a full ceremonial wedding in the duomo.’
Florence’s spectacular cathedral, known to everybody as the duomo, is the focal point of the city, a UNESCO World Heritage site, and way out of my league as a wedding venue, but I was interested to hear if anything had been decided.
Anna shook her head and gave me a mock-serious look. ‘Definitely not the duomo. Seeing as you and I have both been married before, I very much doubt whether that would be possible anyway. Besides, it would be nice to go somewhere else, maybe to Vienna or Paris, or somewhere equally romantic. Have you any bright ideas?’
I was mildly surprised, and pleased, to be included in the planning, but the plain fact of the matter was that I didn’t mind where I got married, as long as it was to Anna, and I told her so.
‘I really don’t mind. The easiest would be just to go down the hill to Montevolpone and ask the mayor to do it.’
From the disappointed expression on her face, I immediatelyrealised that this was the wrong answer, so I hastily tried again. ‘Paris sounds good, or anywhere, really. I presume Italy’s like Britain these days, and it’s possible to get married in all sorts of places. You’re the history expert; why don’t you think of some wonderful historic place out in the middle of the Tuscan hills? That would be romantic, wouldn’t it?’
As Anna would be the first to testify, and I would have to agree, romance is not my strong point, but this suggestion seemed to appeal to her.
‘That’s a good idea, Dan. We could maybe go to one of the old abbeys or even a castle. Imagine if we had our wedding in the place where some famous historical figures got married.’ Her expression became positively dreamy, and I thought I’d better add a little bit of realism.
‘Wherever you choose, make sure it’s somewhere that will allow us to bring Oscar.’
She looked down again and gave him an indulgent smile. ‘Definitely. I imagine he’ll be your best man.’
Oscar took a brief respite from gnawing to glance up at her, and I swear he winked.
I turned my attention to Tricia and Shaun. ‘And what about you two? Have you decided where you’re going to get hitched?’
Shaun gave me a helpless look. ‘Whatever Tricia decides is good with me.’ I was rapidly discovering that I had a lot in common with my future son-in-law. He glanced across at Tricia. ‘St Paul’s cathedral and a gold coach?’
She shook her head and took a stab at a posh accent. ‘Far too common, I’m sure, my good man.’ Reverting to her normal accent, she continued. ‘No, just like Dad and Anna, I think a simple ceremony in a gorgeous location, maybe on an island. I like the idea of getting married abroad. Italy would be great and Tuscany is beautiful, but I’d quite like somewhere a bit more offthe beaten track. I’m still working on it, but it’ll be somewhere fantastic, I promise.’
I had been delighted and relieved to find that Tricia not only approved of Anna as my future wife but actually appeared to be getting on with her like a house on fire. As for Shaun, I also liked and approved of him as my future son-in-law – although my approval was unimportant – and I was particularly pleased that he had now resigned from the army after almost fifteen years. Apart from the danger involved, I had been worried that the itinerant lifestyle of an army officer’s wife might not have suited Tricia, who was doing very well for herself as a lawyer. Since leaving the army a few months ago, Shaun had found himself what sounded like a good job with a private security firm only a few miles from their home, so all looked as if it was working out for them.
I queried what Shaun and Tricia planned on doing tomorrow, and it transpired that Anna had drawn up a very full-sounding programme for them of places of historical interest not to be missed. Anna is a lecturer in Renaissance and medieval history at Florence university and she knows more about the city than most people. I listened to the roll call of famous constructions, which naturally included the duomo as their first port of call. I learnt that Florence’s amazing cathedral was begun in 1296, but it wasn’t finally consecrated until 1436. I wondered whether the builders started and then went off to another job, leaving some tools behind to make it look as if they would be returning shortly. I had met a number of slow builders in my time, but 140 years was excessive by any standards. Still, I had to agree that the duomo is a magnificent edifice. The office of Dan Armstrong Private Investigations is a ten-minute walk from there and, although I pass it two or three times a week, I never tire of its magnificence.
The duomo – or, to give it its proper name, the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore – is one of the best-known buildings in Europe, if not the world. With its stunning green, white and pink marble façade, magnificent statues and the unique and impressive domed roof, it’s a place of worship, peace and calm.
But, as I was about to find out, this isn’t always the case.
2
TUESDAY EARLY AFTERNOON
