Sidney Chambers and The Forgiveness of Sins (43 page)

‘Amazing how such a comparatively minor thing can set a man off course.’

‘Perhaps it’s not so minor for those who experience it.’

Francesca interrupted their breakfast. She knew it was a bad time but her father was at the door with some of his colleagues. Nico Tardelli was shown into the room with Inspector Luigi del Pirlo and two
carabinieri
. They were dressed in their traditional dark-blue uniforms with a red stripe down the side of the trousers and white shoulder belts. Signor Tardelli looked at Hildegard and Anna before asking the vicar if there was somewhere private the men could talk.

Sidney had seen that type of look before and was sure that something was afoot; he only hoped that it wasn’t anything drastic. He presumed that his presence would not be required but was surprised to find the exact opposite. Indeed, he was the very purpose of the visit.

Nico Tardelli explained in halting English that Piero della Francesca’s painting of Battista Sforza, one half of a pair with the portrait of her husband, Duke Federico da Montefeltro, had gone missing. They had checked the conservation workshop in the Uffizi, and the temporary holding room in the Limonaia, and it was nowhere to be found. Could Sidney remember where he had put the painting when he was helping with the clear-up operation?

The request was oratorically complex and Sidney spent some time wondering if he had assessed the situation correctly. At first he had thought Francesca’s father was talking about somebody else. The conversation had such a deferential tone, repeating what an honour it was that such a distinguished English clergyman had come all this way to their city, so that the final implied accusation that Sidney had stolen a painting was buried in a flurry of flattery.

Once he had understood what had been said, Sidney felt that he had to adopt the same flowery rhetoric in his response. He was sorry that there appeared to have been a misunderstanding. He had last seen the painting the previous day and had placed it on one of the trestle tables, well away from the windows and in the driest part of the room, against the wall by the wooden door leading back up to the gallery. The painting of the duke was already there. He had then handled a series of different paintings for the next hour. When he had left he had taken only his cloak. Yes, he was sure. No, he could not be mistaken. Yes, he had put it beside the portrait of Federico da Montefeltro so that the pair remained together. No, he couldn’t explain why he remembered these paintings and not the ones that came before or after, apart from the fact that Amanda had pointed them out to him as being particularly impressive works of art. No, not so impressive that he wanted to take them back to England or look at them in his own home.

The inspector asked if Sidney had ever been absent-minded; if he was, perhaps, sometimes distracted by ‘higher things’. He knew that priests found it difficult to concentrate on the routine of everyday life when they spent so much time pondering the mysteries of eternity. Perhaps if he looked around the vicarage, even in his room, then the painting might turn up (possibly inside his cloak?) and they could be on their way and no one need say anything more about it.

Sidney explained that he was happy to show them his cloak and for them to look at his room but he was sure that they would not find the painting because he had never removed it in the first place. He was sorry for their wasted journey. While he did not have the painting himself he would be pleased to assist in any way he could in securing its safe return.

The inspector was grateful and asked Sidney if he was sure of his story. He would not want there to be any confusion.

No, there could be no misunderstanding. Sidney could remember precisely what he had been doing.

Perhaps not precisely? The inspector announced that it was with the greatest regret his men would indeed have to search the vicarage. While they did so, he would appreciate it very much if Sidney accompanied him to the station.

Would that really be necessary?

The inspector was full of a thousand apologies and stated that yes, it was necessary.

For one wild moment Sidney thought of asking Hildegard to watch the men search the house. He did not want the
carabinieri
planting evidence and framing him for a crime he had not committed, but he acknowledged that this was, perhaps (but only perhaps), taking suspicion too far. At least Amanda was in town. Would she know what was going on? Almost certainly not.

The inspector took Sidney into a car where two more police were waiting. He remembered a joke that Tim had told him. Why do the
carabinieri
go round in pairs? So that one could read and the other could write. It hadn’t been amusing in the first place, and it certainly didn’t seem funny now.

The clean-up operation after the flood continued as the streets were cleared of overturned and mud-spattered cars, wardrobes, mattresses, bicycles, cash boxes, tables and chairs, books, diaries, manuscripts and photograph albums. Through the window of the police car Sidney saw a shopkeeper putting back his wooden flood boards just in case the waters came again. Paintings, stepladders and picture frames were stacked against walls; a television crew was interviewing a woman who appeared to have packed her most precious family possessions in a cardboard box. Perhaps she had the Piero della Francesca painting inside it? Sidney thought. It could be anywhere.

Once they were at the police station he was taken to an interview room and asked if he wanted a cup of coffee or a glass of water. He was then told to wait while a translator was summoned.

Back at the vicarage, Timothy explained to Hildegard that there were three different police forces at any one time in Florence: the
carabinieri
, who were a special branch of the army, the state police and the local police. It was all to do with safeguarding liberty. They counterbalanced each other and it was, he smiled sadly, the Italian way to live with contradiction. ‘In the grand scheme of things it is nothing to worry about. The police need to be seen to be doing something to satisfy any protest from the Uffizi about incompetence and inefficiency.’

‘Even if they demonstrate both.’

‘I am sure they will release Sidney later today or tomorrow.’

‘They might keep him overnight? He is innocent. They can’t believe that a clergyman would steal a painting.’

‘I’m afraid that they no longer have the respect they once had for the Church. Some people think it is because the services are no longer in Latin. Everyone can now see how far priests fall short. But Francesca tells me that all will be well.’

‘Her father did not seem so helpful.’

‘He is different. He is in a position of authority.’

‘I will ask Miss Kendall to talk to the director of the Uffizi. This has to stop.’

‘I am not sure she will be of much help. You need to have a local on your side. That is why Francesca is such an advantage.’

Throughout the interchange Anna was confused, asking her mother, ‘Where’s Daddy? I want my daddy.’ She went to look for his cloak in the bedroom wardrobe and followed the
carabinieri
round the house as they searched. One of them was kind enough to turn it into a game.

While she was preoccupied, Hildegard sought out Francesca in the kitchen, and asked if she could talk to her father.

‘It is complicated. So many police.’

‘But your brother is a policeman.’

‘With the local force. They are different.’

‘There are too many people; too many different organisations.’

‘And none of them are good. People say it is because we have so much crime.’

‘They are busy?’

‘Perhaps if you make everyone a policeman then life is more peaceful. But somehow we made a mistake. And now many of the policemen are criminals.’

‘But not your family.’

‘In my family we do nothing wrong. Your husband is a good man?’

‘The best.’

‘Then I will help him. I like Mr Chambers. He makes me smile.’

‘I think you also have a boyfriend in the police force?’

‘He is not so much. He takes me places. It is not serious.’

‘And Padre Tim?’ Hildegard asked, but before the housekeeper could divulge any further information about her employer they were interrupted by Anna running into the room in tears.

‘Men won’t let me play with Daddy’s cloak. Where’s Daddy?’

Once she had heard the news from Hildegard, Amanda telephoned the director of the Uffizi, convinced that Timothy Jeffers was hopeless, his housekeeper was corrupt, and that the situation was a fix. She would come over to see Alfredo Verga within an hour, and she didn’t care if he had meetings, or that it was in the middle of a flood, or that he had a lot to do. The situation had to be resolved. There would be no deal on the exchange of paintings with the National Gallery and, indeed, no further relationship with them at all if necessary and she wasn’t prepared to put up with her best friend’s incarceration.

‘Signora,’ the director protested. ‘I did not arrest him personally.’

‘But you must have agreed to it.’

‘It is not my business to agree or disagree. The
carabinieri
told me that your friend was acting suspiciously. He had a large cloak.’

‘
They
have large cloaks too. And those stupid feathered hats.’

‘You should not worry, Miss Kendall. No charges have been made. They only want to question your friend.’

‘I don’t trust them. They weren’t even in the room at the time! You must have told them something.’

‘It is not my job to go into details. Mr Tardelli assures me . . .’

‘Mr Tardelli! Is there no escaping that family? I will be with you imminently and I will want answers.’

‘I cannot promise to be available.’

‘Don’t you dare even presume that you can avoid me!’ Amanda shouted, her voice breaking with anger. ‘I will find you wherever you are.’

She picked up her handbag and was just about to leave her hotel when she was delayed by the Etheringtons. They wanted to know if there was anything they could do to help in this very unfortunate situation but asked in a tone that, although just the right side of sympathetic, suggested they would rather not be involved. Instead they seemed keen to extract any gossip and leave as soon as it could be considered polite.

‘What evidence do they have against Sidney?’ Sir William asked.

‘None as far as I can see.’ Amanda controlled her temper, but only just.

His wife wanted the details. ‘He was in the room while we were conveying paintings to the Limonaia. Do you know if they said anything about his cloak?’

‘Yes. They seem to have fixed on that very object. I’ve always hated it. It is the worst of Sidney’s affectations. Sometimes I think he wears it just to annoy me.’

‘I imagine they think that’s where he hid the painting.’

‘But he didn’t.’

‘Not even by mistake? He seems very absent-minded.’

Amanda adjusted her headscarf in the mirror and began to put on her gloves. ‘He isn’t at all. That too is one of his stupid mannerisms. At least this might all be a lesson to him.’

‘He didn’t strike us as an art-lover,’ Lady Victoria continued before her husband added: ‘One couldn’t call him a connoisseur.’

‘He isn’t,’ Amanda answered testily. ‘That’s the point. What would he do with the painting anyway? He wouldn’t have a clue how to sell it.’

‘But I suppose he might know someone who does. With his contacts – he must know quite a few people after all his investigations.’

‘He does,’ Sidney’s best friend replied. ‘Which is why he is so clear about the differences between right and wrong; good behaviour and bad.’

Hildegard tried to calm her anxiety by taking Anna to the antique carousel in Piazza della Repubblica and the children’s museum in the Palazzo Vecchio. Francesca’s mother had also offered to teach them how to make pasta. It was important to keep active, even if Anna found the excursions tiring and kept complaining that she was either too hot or feeling cold. The solution, her mother found, was to keep stopping either for ice cream or hot chocolate. It was an expensive way of going about things but it was preferable to being cooped up at the vicarage with nothing but worry.

Meanwhile Sidney was questioned by Inspector Luigi del Pirlo in the offices of the
carabinieri
in the Pitti Palace. Lydia Huxley from the British Institute acted as translator.

The inspector asked why Sidney was in Florence, how much he knew about painting, and why anyone would want to remove the portrait of Battista Sforza.

‘I didn’t take any painting.’

‘You were seen with it.’

‘That is true.’

‘Do you know where it is?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Did you like it?’

Sidney was now distinctly bolshie. ‘I admired it. But I don’t need such a painting. I don’t want one. Why would I steal it?’

‘That is what we need to decide.’

‘The whole situation is ridiculous.’

‘Life is absurd. You were wearing a cloak.’