‘Do you realise how ridiculous you sound? Three days ago, I had never even met any of the people here at the villa apart from Tristan Angel. My only contact had been with him – and I’d probably only spent a few hours with him in total. What possible reason could I have had for murdering him or, indeed, Mr Hicks, with whom I had exchanged no more than a few words since arriving here?’
‘That, Signora Cortez, is what we’re trying to work out. To that end, I have a few more questions for you. Please could you tell us more about yourself? We know that you’re a lawyer based in Paris, but what did you do before that?’
‘I worked in the legal department of a Spanish charitable trust.’
‘And where was that, please?’
‘In my home town of Melilla.’
‘Thank you. You speak excellent English. Can I ask where you learnt that?’
‘At school and in my job, plus I did a year at Harvard Law School after finishing my first degree in Spain.’
‘Do you speak any other languages? Presumably, if you live and work in Paris, you speak French.’
She nodded. ‘Yes, but not as well as I speak English. My French is getting better but, fortunately, most of my working life is spent speaking English.’
‘Please tell me when and how you first met Mr Angel.’
‘He had been a client of my law firm in Paris for five or six years. I only joined the firm last summer and I first met him in November last year when he came to Paris to meet one of the partners, Jean-Claude Girard. Monsieur Girard retired at the end of last year, and I took over a number of his clients, including MrAngel.’
‘And since then, how many times have you met Mr Angel?’
‘Three times, this was the fourth, but we’ve communicated numerous times by phone and via the Internet.’
‘Always about business?’
I was sure I heard her growl, but she answered politely enough. ‘Always and only about business.’
‘Thank you. I regret that we have to keep you here but, as I’m sure you can imagine, you occupy a unique position among the group at Villa Botticelli, in that you are an outsider and, as such, you can be more objective as a witness. Tell me, do you believe that one of the others here is a murderer – not necessarily of both men, but at least of the second victim, Mr Hicks?’
She took her time before answering, and this gave me a chance to take a closer look at her. In spite of her agitated state when she had arrived, she appeared well in control and she was clearly an intelligent woman. Did I believe that her relationship with Angel had been purely business? Maybe. As Sergeant Dini had said, there was something about her voice when she referred to Tristan Angel that sounded more than just what one would have expected in a purely business relationship. When she finally answered Virgilio, I listened with interest.
‘I have no idea who killed Mr Angel but, in his line of work, it would be naïve to think that he hadn’t made enemies, so maybe his killer came from outside the group. As for Mr Hicks, as I told you, I hardly knew the man, but because we were effectively locked up here on Tuesday night, I can’t see how somebody could have got in from outside to kill him so, yes, I do believe that one of my fellow residents here must have killed him.’ She looked across at Virgilio with a less antagonistic expression on her face. ‘To be totally honest with you, my desire to get awayfrom here is so as to put distance between myself and a potential killer.’
Virgilio nodded a couple of times. ‘I can quite understand how you feel, Signora, and I promise you we’ll do our best to keep you safe and allow you to leave as early as possible. Now for a more difficult question: from what you’ve seen of your companions over the last forty-eight hours, have you had any thoughts about the identity of the murderer?’
Again, we had to wait for her answer, but when it came, it was unexpected. I would have laid money on her pointing the finger at Penelope but, no, her suspicions lay elsewhere.
‘This is only a thought, little more than a first impression, but there’s something about the Irishman, O’Connell, that frightens me.’
My ears pricked up. She wasn’t the first to suggest him. Was there more to O’Connell than met the eye?
‘You think he might be capable of committing murder?’ Emilia nodded and Virgilio carried on. ‘But what about a motive?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m afraid I have no idea – unless it was so as to rise up the chain of command. Some people are very ambitious.’
After a few more questions, Virgilio allowed her to leave, repeating that he would do his very best to see that she wasn’t kept here any longer than necessary.
After she had left, the three of us looked at each other, and I could tell from their faces that Virgilio and Marco were still as baffled as I was.
19
THURSDAY LUNCHTIME
I had arranged with Tricia and Shaun that Anna and I would take them out for lunch in Fiesole, so at twelve-thirty, I left Virgilio and Marco, who were about to interview Peter Schneider. I drove back down into town to pick the family up and found them waiting by the station, hugging the shade. It had been getting warmer and warmer all week. Sooner or later, I felt sure the weather would break with one of the pyrotechnic storms that can affect Tuscany in the summer months, but for now, the sky was cloud free and the air uncomfortably hot and sticky. We drove back up the winding main road, past the turn-off for the villa, all the way to Fiesole, where I was lucky enough to find a parking space at the side of the road just before the piazza. From there, we walked into the square past the cathedral, and Anna slipped seamlessly into ‘medieval history guide’ mode, telling us all about Fiesole’s duomo.
To my untrained eye, it was far less impressive than other ecclesiastical buildings I had seen, and not a patch on the duomo in Florence itself. Anna told me it had been built in the Romanesque style, and the exterior was unadorned red brickwith small windows and few distinguishing features, although there was a crenellated bell tower at the far end that looked as if it might even have had a defensive purpose back at the time of its construction.
