A Christmas Shadow, page 11
Once Shadow had assured him that they would get to the bottom of where the fake wine was coming from, they had spent hours discussing his family and reminiscing. Both his parents had passed away and were buried close to their daughter, and Luca admitted neither of them had ever recovered from losing her, but that the arrival of grandchildren had helped ease their pain. He explained that he’d promised he would do everything he could to keep his sister’s memory alive and Shadow, who for years could barely bring himself to speak her name, had been quite overwhelmed to hear Luca’s young family knew so much about the aunt they would never meet.
Chapter Seven
Across 9 (7 letters)
Keep your pet and rice as proof of purchase
The next morning, Shadow had arranged to meet Luca at Bettys for breakfast. It felt strange to have someone sitting opposite him when usually his only companion was the Yorkshire Post crossword. As always Shadow ordered a pot of tea and a full English. He tried not to look disappointed when his companion only chose a coffee and croissant.
“Are you sure that’s all you want?” he queried.
“I’m never very hungry in the morning,” replied Luca slightly apologetically, wincing as he removed his sunglasses. “And perhaps I overindulged a little last night too.”
Shadow nodded, then in the mirror he suddenly caught sight of the glamorous dark-haired woman he’d seen at La Dolce Vita. She was gliding towards a window table and shuffling along in her wake was the elderly gentleman in the black hat he’d also seen leaving the wine shop. Shadow turned to watch them. Luca followed his gaze, then gasped and quickly looked away.
“What’s wrong?” asked Shadow. “Do you know her?”
“Not her, him. The man you were watching – don’t you know who he is?” Luca hissed.
Shadow shook his head.
“It’s Don Rossetti,” continued Luca. “Back home, he’s the head of the Sacra Corona Unita.”
“The Mafia? Are you sure?” asked Shadow incredulously as he strained his neck to get a better view of the old man, who had finally removed his hat.
“It’s what we call the Mafia and trust me, John, you don’t live in Lecce and not know who Don Rossetti is,” Luca hissed.
“What on earth is he doing in North Yorkshire?” asked Shadow.
“I heard,” began Luca, then paused as the waitress placed the tea and coffee on the table. “I heard,” he continued in hushed tones when she’d gone, “that he’d been forced into hiding. For many years, he ruled our area with an iron fist, but as he grew older, his health began to suffer. With no son to follow him, his two nephews began arguing about who would take control when he’d gone. Then a violent power struggle between the two sides broke out. As Don Rossetti grew weaker, he became vulnerable. A rumour went round that he had fled Italy for his own safety. It seems that rumour is true.”
“And the lady he’s with, is that his wife, his daughter?”
Luca raised his cup to his lips and attempted to look across the room discreetly. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen her before.” He paused and wrinkled his forehead. “I believe he was married with a daughter, but thirty, maybe forty years ago they disappeared. It was at a time when Italy was plagued by kidnappers taking the children of prominent or wealthy individuals. The feeling amongst the people of Lecce was that they had been hidden for their own safety. I certainly never remember seeing them, but my mother mentioned them once or twice I think.”
At that moment, their breakfast arrived, and the two men were briefly distracted, but Shadow couldn’t stop wondering what had brought an elderly Mafioso to York. It seemed that the presence of Don Rossetti was also on Luca’s mind, as he barely touched his croissant. When they’d finished and stood up to leave, Shadow felt the eyes of the dark-haired woman on them. He turned and nodded politely at her, but only received an imperious look in return.
*
After breakfast, at Luca’s insistence, they headed straight to La Dolce Vita. Shadow would have preferred to discuss the matter with the council’s trading standards officers first, but Luca was adamant that he wanted to meet the two young men who were damaging his reputation as soon as possible. As they made their way across St Helen’s Square, Jimmy appeared from the station to join them.
“How are you enjoying York, Mr Greco?” asked Jimmy politely after Shadow had introduced them.
“It is a beautiful city, but very cold,” replied Luca, who like the sergeant was half hidden by a huge scarf. “At home it is still fourteen or fifteen degrees even now. It is more pleasant, I think. I have invited John to come over and join us for Christmas.”
Jimmy grinned at Shadow. “You should go, Chief. You’d love it. Think of all the food and wine.” Then turning to Luca: “He never goes on holiday. He must have built up loads of leave.”
“Then we must both try to convince him, Sergeant,” replied Luca as the three of them made their way down the cobbled path to La Dolce Vita. However, they arrived to find the shop in darkness. Jimmy knocked loudly on the door, but there was no response. Shadow checked the opening times written on a sign in the window.
“They should be open by now,” he said.
“Those two open on time? That’ll be the day,” said a voice from above them. They looked up to find Bob, the window cleaner, at the top of his ladder.
“Can’t we break down the door?” demanded Luca impatiently.
“Not without a warrant,” replied Shadow, “and that might take a while.” He turned to Jimmy. “See if you can find out who owns the building, but first get on to trading standards. Tell them we have Luca with us and that he’s confirmed the wine Neville bought here isn’t Greco Salice Salentino.”
Jimmy nodded and dialled the number on his phone. He spoke to the trading standards officer, then covered the mouthpiece and addressed Luca. “He wants to know if you are prepared to make a statement?”
“Absolutely!” declared Luca. “I will go there immediately. There is a taxi rank outside the hotel.”
Jimmy scribbled down the name and the address for the trading standards officer as he continued to talk to him on the phone and handed it over to Luca.
“Do you want me to come with you?” offered Shadow, but Luca shook his head.
“No, you have a murder to investigate. I will come and find you when I have made my statement.”
With that he took the piece of paper and strode purposefully away.
“I can tell you who owns the building,” said Bob, who had been watching the proceedings intently and was now climbing down his ladder. “It’s the Black Widow.”
Shadow put out his hand to steady the ladder that was wobbling precariously on the loose cobbles.
“Who’s that?” he asked as Jimmy finished his phone call.
“Her real name is Barbara Smith. You must have seen her about. She looks like she belongs in New York, not this York. Long black hair, full-length fur coats. You can’t miss her. She owns loads of property in Leeds as well as here, and she’s been married at least three times. When this place was empty, she used to pay me to do the windows. Always gave a decent tip.”
Shadow nodded, sure Bob had described the woman he’d just seen in Bettys.
“Thanks, Bob. By the way, do you ever remember seeing a young blonde woman here on weekday mornings?”
Bob’s face broke into a smile. “Do you mean Anna? She’s a lovely girl. Now she did get here early. She’d let herself in through there,” he said, pointing to the door into the basement. “She’d always offer to make me a cuppa if she saw me. Has something happened to her?”
“Yes, I’m afraid we think she’s dead. We found a body in the river, it’s almost definitely her,” replied Shadow.
Bob’s face fell. He shook his head and picked up his ladder and bucket. “Poor girl! It’s always the good ones. If you find those two chancers, let me know. They owe me for three weeks,” he called over his shoulder as he headed up the cobbled path.
“At least that solves the mystery of the other key Anna had,” said Jimmy, who had removed the evidence bag containing Anna’s keys from his pocket and was trying the third key in the lock. “Bingo, Chief! Do you want to go inside?”
Shadow shook his head.
“No, we’re not going to risk the investigation by carrying out an illegal search,” he said as he continued to think. “Besides Bob told us something even more important. We now know the identity of Ingham and Woodhouse’s landlord or rather landlady. I’m almost certain Barbara Smith is the dark-haired lady who was arriving as we were leaving yesterday. In which case, things may have become a lot more complicated.”
“Why’s that, Chief?”
Shadow briefly recounted his visit to Bettys that morning and Luca’s reaction to their two fellow diners. Jimmy stared at him open-mouthed.
“Seriously? Don Rossetti is here in York?”
“Luca seemed convinced. Why, have you heard of him?”
“Of course I have; he’s notorious. Only the other week I was watching a documentary about the Sacra Corona Unita. They said he’d been in charge of the area around Lecce for years. I can’t believe he was that little old guy!”
“Appearances can be deceiving,” replied Shadow. “It doesn’t look like Ingham or Woodhouse are arriving any time soon. Let’s get back to the office.”
“You don’t think Barbara Smith and David Smith could be connected, do you, Chief?” asked Jimmy as they made their way back up the path to the station. “Billy said she’d been married a lot.”
“It’s worth checking, but it’s a very common name. Anything else to report?” asked Shadow as they edged past a large Christmas tree two uniformed constables were trying to manoeuvre into position in the reception area.
“Yes, Chief. I went to the Salvation Army first thing to speak to Jake. He said Anna had occasionally mentioned meeting a boyfriend but didn’t give any details. He didn’t know the name of the place Anna worked as a cleaner, but she’d complained about one of the guys who worked there always trying to chat her up. The description she gave, chubby and blond, sounded like Toby Woodhouse. I was thinking maybe he got angry when she kept rebuffing him.”
Shadow nodded thoughtfully. “But he has an alibi for Sunday. Did Jake say anything else?”
“No, he wasn’t really in the mood to talk. I don’t think he’s very happy with us?”
“Why?”
Jimmy shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. “It’s because of the Herald. The first report of a body being removed from the river was accompanied by the photograph of you and me and Jake walking towards your boat and it said a local man was helping us with our inquiries. Well, apparently a few people recognised Jake and Missy. They put two and two together and got five. They thought he must be involved somehow. He’s had quite a bit of abuse and has had to find somewhere else to sleep. He’s left his usual spot under Lendal Bridge.”
Shadow picked up the copy of the Herald that was lying on the reception desk. The photo was blurred, but Jimmy was right: anyone who knew Jake and Missy would probably be able to identify them.
“What’s MacNab playing at? Printing this without any explanation.”
Jimmy shrugged. “I guess he thought it might be a scoop and, let’s face it, Jake isn’t really in a position to take legal action, is he?”
Shadow grunted as he continued to read. “Why isn’t there any mention of Anna by name or her picture? We’ll never get any response from the public.”
Jimmy and Tom, who was standing behind the desk, exchanged an awkward glance.
“We couldn’t release her name, Chief,” explained Jimmy. “Her parents haven’t been informed yet.”
“Why not? Couldn’t the Slovenian police find them?”
“It’s my fault, Chief,” admitted Tom, flushing bright red. “I misheard Jimmy. I thought he said Slovakian police. By the time I realised my mistake, it was too late to call them yesterday. I’m really sorry.”
“For crying out loud, you are as bad as that useless manager from the hotel. I hope you’ve asked Father Christmas for an atlas,” fumed Shadow. “We can’t wait any longer to formally identify her. You’ll have to arrange for Francesco to do it and make sure you accompany him.” Then turning to Jimmy: “Release a press statement saying nobody is currently helping us with our inquiries and we are very grateful to a member of the public who spotted the body and alerted us.”
“Shouldn’t we let the press office at HQ deal with it from now on?” asked Jimmy.
“No, it’s our mess. We’ll clear it up,” he snapped. “And tell MacNab if that picture of Jake appears again, I’ll sue him myself.”
Despairing at both the journalist and his young colleague, Shadow headed to his office and began routing through his desk drawers for indigestion tablets. He had only been at his desk a moment when his phone began to ring. It was Ben from forensics.
“Morning, Chief. How’s everything with you?” he said cheerfully, but Shadow was in no mood to chat.
“What do you have to tell me about the stone and rope that were tied to Anna?”
“Technically, it’s not a stone, it’s been smoothed over and there are remnants of concrete stuck on it. I’d say it’s more of a cobble and, having spoken to Sophie, we think it could have been used to hit her on the back on the head. It’s the right shape, size and weight.”
“And the rope?”
“Technically, not really a rope,” replied Ben, and Shadow raised his eyes to the ceiling, wishing as he often did when speaking to his forensics team that he had been blessed with patience. “It’s made from the same fabric as the dress she was wearing and was plaited. We think it was probably the belt for the dress. By the way, we checked the label and the dress was from an Italian high street fashion chain. Ollie checked with their head office. It was part of their range two years ago. Jimmy said she spoke Italian, so we thought she might have lived there for a while. Italy is next door to Slovenia after all.”
“Possibly,” pondered Shadow, “but let’s get back to the stone and rope. You’re telling me she was hit on the head with a cobblestone and then they used her own belt to tie the cobble to her ankle, before pushing her in the river,” recapped Shadow.
“That’s it, Chief. Got it in one.”
“Is there any way you can tell where the cobble is from?” asked Shadow, his mind wandering back to Bob’s ladder balancing on the loose stones down by La Dolce Vita.
“Not really, Chief. It was in the water over twenty-four hours, so any soil or moss or whatever that we could have used would have been washed off.”
“Any luck tracing her phone?”
“Jimmy gave us the number you got from Lucia. It was a pay-as-you-go phone. The phone company told us it was last active on Sunday evening. She used it to call another pay-as-you-go number and they could only narrow the location down to within a few hundred metres of where we found her, but we know she was probably killed quite close to the river, so that doesn’t really help much, does it, Chief?”
“No, it doesn’t,” agreed Shadow with a sigh.
No sooner had he put the phone down than there was a knock at the door.
“Yes?” he called out.
“Only me, Chief,” said Jimmy as he entered the room holding a laptop. “I wanted to update you on the officers who went to speak to the night shift workers at the hotel last night. They said Philips was right: most of them do leave through that exit. A few of them recalled seeing the man with the beanie hat when they left on Friday morning, but nobody spoke to him. It sounds like they were all too distracted by one of their guests dying.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes. They also asked about Anna and the last time her colleagues had seen her. One of the other waitresses said that before Anna left on Sunday, at about one am, she changed out of her uniform and into a black dress and heels.”
“The clothing we found her wearing?”
“Yes, Chief. The other waitress asked if she had a hot date, but Anna just laughed.”
Shadow nodded thoughtfully. “Anything else?”
“I’ve been googling Don Rossetti,” he said, opening up the laptop as he took a seat opposite Shadow.
“And?”
“What Luca told you seems to add up. About forty years ago, there was a spate of high-profile kidnappings in Italy, often involving the wives and children of prominent citizens. It was rumoured Don Rossetti, who had recently taken control of the organisation, sent his wife and young daughter away to keep them safe, but nobody knew where. Imagine going to such extreme lengths to keep them safe. Apparently, he had the two guys who did know where they were killed so they couldn’t tell anyone else.”
Shadow raised a sceptical eyebrow. “There’s a lot of rumour and apparently going on. I don’t suppose you’ve managed to find something useful like a photo of him?”
“Yes, there’s a mug shot, but it must be about fifty years old.”
Jimmy turned the laptop around and Shadow squinted at the grainy black-and-white image on the screen. It was impossible to tell if it was the elderly man he’d seen having breakfast that morning.
“We need to speak to Barbara Smith as soon as possible and confirm that she is the woman I saw with Don Rossetti and, if she is, how they are connected.”
“Actually, Chief, that’s why I’m here,” interrupted Tom, who had appeared a few seconds earlier and was now hovering in the doorway looking sheepish. “A woman by the name of Barbara Smith came to the reception desk and left a message for you. She said she would be waiting to speak with you in Harkers.”
“When?”
“Now, Chief. I said I would pass the message on, but she didn’t wait for an answer. I got the impression she expected you to accept the invitation.”
