His question was echoed by the man at the head of the table. ‘What on earth makes you think that Tristan was murdered?’ His tone was measured and emotionless. I immediately added a mental asterisk alongside the name Hicks. Being involved in a murder inquiry normally brings out strong emotions in people, but this lack of reaction had a sinister edge to it. Of course, I reminded myself, the arms business was not for the faint-hearted, and this was a man who had probably been involved in many tense and nerve-wracking situations. He had no doubt developed a pretty thick skin by now. Even so, his lack of reaction meant that he rose up my list of potential suspects.
Virgilio replied to both men and he didn’t mince his words. ‘Because somebody shot him in the head at point-blank range.’
This produced stunned silence around the table before the bald man spoke up. ‘Are you sure it was Tristan?’ His tone was impassive but, once again, I felt I might have spotted a momentary look of something more than surprise on his face.
Virgilio transferred his attention to him. ‘And your name is?’
‘Archer, Vincent Archer.’
Virgilio duly made a note of the man’s name. ‘Thank you, Mr Archer. We will need one of you to give us a positive ID of the body, but it’s looking very likely that the victim was indeed Mr Angel. Tell me, were you or anybody else here aware that he had a tattoo?’
Archer shook his head and glanced towards the woman with the blonde hair. As he did so, I noticed that some of the others did the same. She was halfway through eating an impressive ice-cream sundae and looked up. ‘You’re talking about the angel tattoo, right?’ Her accent was educated English, her manner almost offhand.
Virgilio turned towards her. ‘Yes. Could you tell me where he had the tattoo, Miss…?’
‘My name’s Penelope Green, and Tristan has… had a tattoo on his arm, up near his shoulder, his right shoulder, I think.’
As she spoke, I caught a glimpse of the other woman’s face. There was a distinct glint in her eyes – and not a friendly one – and I wondered if this might be because she was looking across at Penelope Green. Jealousy, maybe? Might this mean that Sergeant Dini’s suggestion of the murder being a crime of passion might be right after all? Two good-looking women in close proximity to a good-looking and successful man could potentially spell trouble.
The man at the top of the table took over the conversation – no doubt trying to reinforce his position as the head honcho. ‘Where did the murder take place?’
Virgilio deliberately ignored his question. ‘Could I have your name, please?’
‘Donald Hicks. I am… was Tristan’s Director of Operations.’
‘Director of what operations?’
‘Overall responsibility for procurement and sales for the company TXA Supplies.’
‘And what does your company supply?’
‘More or less anything, from boots to helicopters.’ Hicks was still looking and sounding totally matter-of-fact. Nobody could have guessed that he and his late employer dealt in what those inthe arms business refer to as ‘materiel’ – better known as lethal weaponry.
Virgilio made a note and continued. ‘The victim was a very wealthy man who made his money in a very shady business.’ It looked for a moment as if Hicks was about to object, but Virgilio didn’t give him a chance to speak as he carried on. ‘Would I be right in assuming that you were all involved one way or another with that same business, or is this a social gathering for some of you?’
This question immediately elicited a response from the dark-haired woman.
‘I am not employed by TXA Supplies.’ Her English was fluent, but with a noticeable Spanish accent.
‘And your name, Signora…?’
‘My name is Emilia Cortez Garcia. I’m a lawyer.’
‘Were you a friend of Mr Angel?’ I could see Virgilio scribbling hard to get down her full name.
There was a momentary hesitation before she answered. ‘I wouldn’t call him a friend. We only met a few times for business, but he was always pleasant.’
I found myself wondering about that split-second hesitation. Did she have something to hide? Had she and the victim had a relationship, or had she even been responsible for his death? I put a question mark alongside her name on my list.
Virgilio switched his attention to the blonde woman, who was still concentrating on her ice cream – reminding me how hungry I was.
‘Tell me, Miss Green, how do you fit into this equation?’
She dropped her spoon onto her plate. ‘I fit in, as you put it, by being the company’s communications officer, and I’d prefer it if you didn’t call me “Miss”.’ She shot a sharp look at Virgilio, and her tone was distinctly chilly, but he didn’t bat an eyelid.
‘My apologies, Signora Green.’
Virgilio went around the table, making a note of all the names, before informing them that he would like to speak to each of them individually. It was agreed that these interviews would take place in the small lounge, and he asked all of them to bring their passports with them, telling them that they would be required to hand these over to the police and remain here at the villa until the investigation was concluded.
