She duly reeled off the information and confirmed it by handing over her passport. She gave an address in north London and told us she was thirty.
‘What does the job of communications officer entail?’
‘I have a master’s degree in international trade and I’m an IT specialist. I monitor social media in different countries to assess the social, economic and political situation wherever TXA is operating.’
‘Does this mean that you’re a linguist?’
‘I speak French and some Spanish – not Italian, I’m afraid –and I grew up in Jordan, so I’m fluent in spoken and written modern Arabic. As you can imagine, the way things are in the Middle East at the moment, that helps.’
‘Do you work from an office in London, or do you travel around with the rest of this group?’
‘I only started working for the company in January, and I’ve spent most of my time at the London HQ. I travelled with Tristan to Oman in June and to Kuwait with him in July, but this is the first time I’ve been invited along with a group like this. I’m just a relatively junior employee, but these are the people who run the company.’
Virgilio adopted his affable voice. ‘This is a murder investigation, so I’m afraid I have to ask some awkward questions. Please can you tell me, was your relationship with the victim purely a work relationship?’
It appeared to me as if she was doing her best to look as cool as a cucumber – at least on the outside – but there was something in her eyes that gave her away. Maybe she wasn’t as relaxed as she wanted to appear. What was the reason for that? I wondered. Was it just natural unease at finding herself caught up in a murder investigation, or was there more to it than that – like guilt? Mind you, Oscar the lie detector was snuggled up alongside her, so maybe I was wrong.
‘I can assure you that it was purely a business relationship.’ She sounded sincere, but I wondered what kind of relationship it had been. Certainly, she appeared far from heartbroken, and this strengthened my conviction that Eddie might have been mistaken about her being Angel’s ‘bit of stuff’, although the fact that many eyes in the dining room had turned towards her when the tattoo question had been raised surely indicated a close relationship with the victim.
She made an attempt to change the subject. ‘You said he was shot. Would he have died instantly?’
Virgilio nodded. ‘No question. He was shot through the temple with a 9mm pistol. Death would have been instantaneous.’
I took a long hard look at her. Although it was a pretty convincing performance, there was still something about it that didn’t ring completely true, and I had a feeling she knew more than she was prepared to say. There was little shock or horror, and certainly no outpouring of grief. Instead, she just looked puzzled.
‘Who on earth would do something like that to Tristan?’
‘I was rather hoping you might be able to help us with that. I imagine that, in his line of business, he must have managed to make quite a few enemies.’
She gave a dismissive shrug of the shoulders. ‘He wasn’t the sort of man to worry about making enemies.’ There was what might have been a note of respect in her voice.
Virgilio picked up on this. ‘Did you like Mr Angel? Did you admire him?’
‘Yes, I liked him and, to a certain extent, I admired him. He built up the company by himself and it’s now one of the major world players.’
‘Players in a very dirty game.’ Virgilio’s tone was clearly disapproving, but she didn’t rise to the bait.
‘I agree with you that there are some very questionable operators involved in the arms trade, but people need arms to defend themselves. Without TXA, many helpless groups, and even smaller nations, would have been overrun by now.’
I wondered whether Tristan Angel had followed some kind of moral compass, or whether Penelope Green was just deludingherself. I was sure Virgilio felt the same way, but there was little point in pursuing the rights and wrongs of the arms business with somebody who worked in it. Instead, he asked the important question:
‘Tell me, Signora Green, who do you think murdered Tristan Angel?’
She gave us a helpless look. ‘Who knows?’
‘Might it have been somebody here at the villa?’
Her eyes opened a bit wider in an apparent show of disbelief. ‘Somebody here? What makes you say that?’ I noticed that she didn’t say no.
‘I’m just trying to consider all possibilities.’ Virgilio was still adopting his friendly voice. ‘Has there been any discord here? Any arguments?’
She shook her head. ‘None that I can remember. Most people get on pretty well together.’ I also noted her use of the word ‘most’, rather than ‘all’. This might merit further investigation.
Virgilio carried on with his questions. ‘Can you tell me where you were this morning between nine and noon?’
‘I went into town with the others at nine. We were back here by half-past twelve.’
‘What about Mr Angel? Was he with you?’
