Murder by the Sea (28 page)

‘So we can’t find out anything about this Rosa, where she came from or who she really was,’ said Fran.

‘No,’ said Jane, ‘and I did try at the time.’

‘What did Pietro look like?’ asked Libby suddenly. Jane looked startled.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘he was very dark – hair and skin – about, oh, I don’t know, fifty? Very smart when he wasn’t in his chef’s apron. Well-built, but not fat.’

‘Good-looking?’ asked Fran.

‘I don’t know.’ Jane wrinkled her face. ‘He was a bit old for me, so I never noticed.’

Libby and Fran exchanged amused glances.

‘Well, that’s all for now, Jane. Sorry to have taken so much of your time,’ said Fran, ‘but although the police might not take it seriously, we do.’

‘The break-in?’ said Terry.

‘Oh, I think they take that seriously, no I meant our famous piece of paper,’ said Fran. ‘The police would think what I did at first, but I’m pretty sure now it’s the clue to the whole thing.’

‘Really?’ Jane frowned. ‘I can’t see how.’

‘I can’t tell you quite yet,’ said Fran, ‘but as soon as I’ve worked on the details, I’ll let you have the story as far as I can see it.’

‘And what’s that?’ asked Libby as they went down the steps of Peel House.

‘The story? Well, you made the connections the same as I did, didn’t you?’

‘That Rosa could be the mysterious vanishing Italian of the false passport? Yes.’

‘And that Pietro could be the mysterious vanishing Italian businessman?’

‘Couldn’t quite see that,’ admitted Libby.

‘They both worked near Jane’s office and had opportunity to get to know her.’

‘But Pietro had been there for years before Jane got the job.’

‘Whoever’s behind this might have made use of him and sent Rosa there. I bet she disappeared when Lena was arrested, sent back home probably.’

‘That makes sense,’ said Libby, opening Romeo’s passenger door for Fran. ‘But why did Pietro sell up and go back home?’

‘If he’d stayed there, I’d not have thought of him in connection with this business at all,’ said Fran, ‘but the fact that he disappeared not long afterwards suggests that he’s involved somehow. But you had seen it, because you were the one who asked what he looked like.’

‘Well, yes,’ said Libby, ‘because of Bruce seeing this bloke again today. But I didn’t seriously believe it.’

‘Tell you what,’ said Fran, ‘I think we ought to ask Ian to show a copy of Lena’s borrowed passport to Jane.’

‘Could he get hold of that?’

‘Now that she’s involved with his investigation, I should think he’d have access to all her papers, which would include the photocopy taken by the council.’

‘Would he do that? He’s not involved with this case.’

‘No, but Rosa – or whoever she is – is involved with Lena’s.’

Libby thought about this while turning Romeo round at the entrance of The Tops car park.

‘Are you going to tell McLean any of this?’ she asked.

‘No. If anything comes of it, Ian can tell him in the ordinary way.’

‘No psychic investigation, then?’

‘It’s been guesswork so far, hasn’t it?’

‘There’s a few rather tenuous links that only you could have forged,’ said Libby, crossing the square to go down Harbour Street.

‘You didn’t have to drop me at the door,’ said Fran. ‘You’ll have to turn round again now.’

‘Doesn’t matter, and you shouldn’t have to walk home in the dark,’ said Libby. ‘Look what happened to Terry.’

‘I am looking at what happened to Terry,’ said Fran, as she opened her door. ‘And the more I look at it, the more it seems to me that the body on the island and the mystery of Peel House are linked.’

Chapter Twenty-seven

INSPECTOR CONNELL, WHEN APPEALED to, asked if he might come and see Fran later on Thursday morning to discuss her “theories” on his case. Fran agreed and called Libby.

‘Shall I come over?’ asked Libby.

‘No, I’ll manage on my own, thanks,’ said Fran. ‘Romeo will know his way over here on his own, soon.’

‘Oh, I don’t mind driving,’ said Libby. ‘Before you see Ian, though, I’ll email you all that stuff I found about Simon Madderling. Might help.’

‘Help with what?’

‘Convincing him to look into Terry’s case as well as his own.’

‘He’ll only tell me he’s not a cold case unit,’ said Fran.

‘But it has a bearing on his own,’ said Libby.

‘Yes, I know, and I shall try and convince him of that.’

‘Why,’ said Ian later, when he was settled with a cup of coffee in Fran’s kitchen, ‘did you suddenly take everything up again?’

‘Because I kept seeing things,’ said Fran. ‘I thought whatever it was – is – had gone, and I wouldn’t ever see anything again, but all these pictures were wafting about in my brain, so I thought I ought to look into them. Libby thought I was trying too hard and none of them would mean anything, but the most surprising things have turned out to be linked.’

‘And you’re going to tell me about them,’ said Ian, his lean dark face at its most severe.

‘I’ll try,’ said Fran. ‘I just hope it all makes sense.’

She began with her feelings about Peel House, then went on to the farm pictures.

‘You know about Lena and her brother,’ she said, ‘but not about who we think the Italian woman is.’

‘Italian woman?’ Ian frowned.

‘The one who lent Lena her passport. We think she’s someone called Rosa who made friends with Jane Maurice in London.’

‘And why would she want to make friends with Jane Maurice?’

Fran explained about Jessica and Simon Madderling and gave Ian the documents Libby had sent over. He glanced through them and frowned again.

‘We haven’t got a cold case unit here,’ he said, as Fran had predicted.

‘No, I know, but I’m sure there’s something hidden in that house that someone else wants,’ said Fran.

‘After all this time?’ Ian raised his eyebrows. ‘Unless it’s a priceless jewel, of course.’

‘Don’t be sarcastic,’ said Fran. ‘You’ve trusted my judgement before. You’ll see from that information that Madderling had connections with someone in the Italian embassy during the war, and spoke fluent Italian. If he had something that belonged to this person, or that incriminated him, he may have asked Jessica Maurice to keep it for him until he returned from wherever he was going. Only he never came back.’

‘And the descendants of this mythical Italian are trying to retrieve whatever-it-is by tracking down Jane Maurice and hitting her boyfriend over the head?’ Ian shook his head. ‘Honestly, Fran. If it was an incriminating document it would hardly have any relevance now, would it? Over sixty years after the end of the war?’

Fran sighed. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘do you agree that it’s odd that Jane’s house should have been broken into and searched more than once recently? Since that body was found?’

‘Andrei Gruzevich,’ put in Ian.

‘Him, yes. Well?’

‘Not really. It’s been broken into because Terry Baker’s keys were stolen.’

‘Why was the body left on Dragon Island? Why wasn’t it dumped in the water?’

‘Because whoever dumped it wanted it found.’

‘Why would they do that when they’d removed all identifying marks?’

Ian scowled. ‘Don’t think we haven’t been working on this, Fran.’

‘I’m sure you have, and with the best technology and expertise at your disposal, but just think. Without my suggestion about showing him to Lena you still wouldn’t know who he was.’

‘True,’ conceded Ian. ‘We also think we know now where the flat was that Rosa Francini rented.’

Fran gasped. ‘Rosa Francini? That’s the Italian woman’s name?’

‘Yes.’

‘You see! That proves it. It’s Rosa who befriended Jane and then disappeared. And I bet her disappearance coincides with Lena’s arrest.’

‘I’ll look into it,’ said Ian uncomfortably.

‘So, did Lena show you the flat?’

‘At first she couldn’t remember anything about it except that it was obviously expensive and somewhere near Victoria. However, when it was pointed out to her that she must have known the address in order to go out and get back again, she said it was in Lansdowne Square, and she knew how to get there without taking any notice of the number of the building.’

‘Did she have a key?’

‘While she was living there, yes. Not for long, because she got her council job and went off to live in a bedsit.’

‘And she didn’t know what Rosa did for a living?’

‘Nothing, she thought. Her brother and Rosa were having an affair, which was why Rosa lent the passport.’

‘Yes, McLean told us that,’ said Fran. ‘And that he – or the television company – had tracked down the bar where Andrei worked. But not the flat.’

‘Well, we have now. It turns out that it’s owned by an Italian company and managed by agents over here.’

‘So who paid the rent on it?’

‘Rosa Francini.’

‘Who wasn’t working, so she must have had plenty of money.’

Ian shrugged. ‘She had a false passport, so whatever she was doing here, there was a criminal element to it, which means there was money involved somewhere.’

‘Well, will you let Jane see the photocopy of the passport?’ Fran leant her elbows on the table and looked earnestly at Ian. ‘It’s important, Ian, it really is.’

‘All right. Tell her to come to the station and ask for me. If I’m not there, ask for Maiden.’

‘Oh, I remember him,’ said Fran. ‘He’s the redhead, isn’t he? But I thought he was in uniform, not CID.’

‘He’s recently been transferred.’ Ian smiled briefly. ‘Keen as mustard. So ask for DC Maiden.’

‘I’ll tell her. And if it is the same woman, will you look into it?’

‘Into what?’

‘The break-in at Peel House.’

Ian gave an exasperated sigh. ‘It’s not my case.’

‘But if this is the same woman, it could be connected.’

Ian stood up. ‘I’ll see,’ he said. ‘But only because it’s you.’

Fran smiled up at him and saw a flicker of awareness in his eyes. Hastily, she too stood up, and went swiftly past him towards the front door.

‘Thanks, Ian,’ she said as he stepped out into Harbour Street. ‘I’m sure you won’t regret it.’

He pulled down the corners of his mouth. ‘I damn well hope I won’t,’ he said.

As soon as she’d closed the door behind him, she picked up her phone and called Jane.

‘There’s something I want you to see at the police station,’ she said without preamble. ‘I’ll come with you, if you like. When could you go?’

‘The police station?’ said Jane, sounding thoroughly bewildered. ‘Why? What for?’

‘You’ll see when we get there. It’s a long shot, but it might explain things.’

Jane was all for leaving straight away, but Fran knew that Connell wouldn’t have had time to set things up at the station, so persuaded her to leave it until after lunch. Luckily, Jane’s job as a reporter meant she was free to leave the office at any time.

The police station was at the top of the town beyond the railway station. Jane and Fran met there at two o’clock.

‘Is Inspector Connell in?’ Fran asked the desk sergeant.

‘No, madam, afraid not.’ He beamed, as though this was the very news she wished to hear.

‘DC Maiden, then? Inspector Connell will have informed him.’

‘Oh?’ The sergeant lost his smile. ‘Who shall I say?’

‘Miss Maurice and Mrs Castle.’

Fran saw her name make an impression, as he turned away to pick up the phone and mutter into it. They barely had time to sit on the bench seat opposite the desk when DC Maiden, red hair on end and blue eyes bright with enthusiasm, appeared through swing doors.

‘Mrs Castle,’ he said holding out a hand. ‘Nice to see you again.’

‘And you,’ said Fran politely. ‘And this is Jane Maurice.’

Maiden’s eyes flitted quickly over Jane and Fran saw the ready colour start to creep up her neck.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Maiden. ‘You wanted to see this photocopy?’ He held the swing doors open for them and Jane frowned up at Fran.

‘Please. Inspector Connell told you about it?’

‘Some of it.’ He glanced quickly at Fran, and she remembered his open-mouthed astonishment last year when she’d surprised everybody by visualising a scene that proved in the end to have taken place.

Jane was still looking puzzled as Maiden collected a file from an office and showed them into an interview room. Now she looked simply scared. Fran patted her hand.

‘It’s all right, Jane,’ she said. ‘Just a little mystery to clear up.’

Maiden turned his bright blue eyes on Jane’s pale, scared face. ‘Have a look at this, Miss Maurice,’ he said, and pushed a piece of paper towards her.

Jane looked and her eyes widened. She gasped and looked at Fran.