A Christmas Shadow, page 13
“No, I don’t think so,” replied Maggie, “but there wasn’t a particularly long gap between husbands.”
“I still think calling her the Black Widow is a bit harsh.”
“Who is this Black Widow?” asked Luca, looking confused as he rejoined them at the table.
“Barbara Smith, the woman we saw this morning with Don Rossetti. She’s his daughter,” explained Shadow. “I spoke to her earlier.”
“You must be careful, John,” insisted Luca. “They are dangerous people.”
“You sound as bad Jimmy,” muttered Shadow.
Maggie picked up her glass of wine. “That’s enough talk about work. I want to hear all about Luca and his family, and you must tell me how to pronounce your wine again. It’s absolutely delicious.”
“Thank you, I am pleased you are enjoying it. It is called Greco Salice Salentino,” replied Luca, enunciating the last three words slowly.
“Italian is such a beautiful language,” said Maggie, waving her hand towards the menu on the table. “Pollo picante sounds so much nicer than spicy chicken.”
“It does,” agreed Luca with a slightly arrogant shrug. “I remember my English tutor used to joke that Giuseppe Verdi may not have been as successful or as popular if he’d been called Joe Green.”
Maggie laughed. “That’s probably true. I love La Traviata. I think it’s my favourite opera.”
“Then you have something in common with my dear sister, Luisa. It was also her favourite.” Luca then launched into a loud rendition of Alfredo’s brindisi from the opera, much to Maggie’s delight and Shadow’s embarrassment. He finished to applause from some of the surrounding tables.
“Luisa adored music and dancing,” he explained a little breathlessly as he took a sip of wine. “She was always dancing, wasn’t she, John?”
He turned to Shadow, who nodded, then shocked himself by saying, “Yes, every Friday we would go to a swing club, off Regent Street. They had an exceptional house band.”
“Really?” said Maggie, looking even more surprised than he was. “I had no idea you could dance.”
“For my part, it was more shuffling along in time to the music,” he replied with a self-conscious shrug. Luca’s way of talking about Luisa all the time was becoming infectious.
“In Lecce, in the summer, we have some wonderful festivals. Lots of music and dancing. You must both come,” declared Luca.
“It sounds wonderful,” said Maggie, while at the same time Shadow merely mumbled, “Perhaps.”
“John doesn’t often go on holiday,” explained Maggie.
Luca nodded and leaning towards her, he whispered conspiratorially, “So I hear, but I am trying to get him to spend Christmas with us. I need all the help I can get.”
Maggie grinned. “I’ll try my best,” she said, then turning to Shadow: “Have you really never been there since Luisa’s funeral?”
Luca and Shadow exchanged a glance.
“I didn’t go to her funeral,” he admitted quietly.
Maggie stared at him. “Why not? When you said you’d never been to Italy, I assumed you meant on holiday. I had no idea you hadn’t gone out there to lay her to rest.”
There was an awkward pause and Shadow felt the blood rush to his face.
Luca cleared his throat. “You must understand, Maggie, it was a difficult time. My parents were upset,” he began to explain, but Shadow held up his hand to interrupt him.
“It wasn’t their fault. I could have gone, but I suppose I felt I didn’t deserve to be there.” He paused as the painful memory he always pushed away fought its way through. “I didn’t say goodbye to her, you see. On the day she died, we’d overslept. The night before she’d talked me into staying up late to watch one of those old black-and-white films she loved. I woke up in a panic, knowing I would be late for work. Luisa woke up as I’d finished getting dressed and was heading to the door. She called my name from the bedroom. I should have gone back and kissed her, told her I loved, but instead I just said, ‘Go back to sleep.’ I’d taken her for granted. I think I was even a bit cross because I was late.” He felt his voice catch in his throat. “If I couldn’t take the time to say goodbye when she was alive, why should I be allowed to when she was gone?”
Maggie reached across the table and squeezed his hand, her eyes glistening with tears.
“You must not think like that, my friend,” Luca, who was drying his own tears with a napkin, assured him. “Luisa knew you loved her.”
At that moment, their food arrived and Shadow – relieved to have a distraction – lowered his head, but for once his appetite had deserted him.
The rest of the meal was spent listening to Luca tell stories about his family and his childhood. After dinner, Shadow and Maggie walked him to his hotel, then on the way back to Goodramgate, they took a detour through Dean’s Park. It was usually closed to the public in the evening, but during St Nick’s Fair it remained open with the trees decorated with fairy lights and stalls selling mince pies and the ubiquitous mulled wine.
“How much of that stuff can people drink?” grumbled Shadow as the scent of cinnamon and spices wafted around them.
“Perhaps it’s a conspiracy. The city stall holders have banded together to annoy you,” said Maggie, her lips curving into a smile.
“It certainly feels that way,” replied Shadow.
Maggie took his arm and the two of them strolled along the path in silence, listening to the group of carol singers singing “Good King Wenceslas” outside the Minster library.
“Are you going to take Luca up on his offer?” she asked.
“Which offer?”
“To spend Christmas in Lecce with his family.”
“Why would I do that?” replied Shadow gruffly.
“Oh, I don’t know…because it will be sunny and at least ten degrees warmer out there than it is here. There’ll be more Italian food and wine than even you know what to do with and you’ll finally get to visit Luisa’s final resting place.”
“Luca was simply being polite,” protested Shadow, while thinking that final resting place sounded so much nicer than grave.
“Admittedly I’ve only met him once, but he doesn’t strike me as the sort of person who says things without meaning them.”
By now they were walking past Minster Court. Shadow was trying to think of a way to ask Maggie if she would like to spend Christmas in Italy with him when he was distracted by the sound of tapping on glass. He looked up and saw Gwyneth Marchman watching them from an upstairs window in her house. Maggie smiled and waved back at her.
“Poor woman,” she sighed as they passed by.
“Do you know her?”
“Oh yes, Gwyneth has been coming to me for years. It used to be for help getting wine stains out of Hugh’s cassock, but since her accident she brings bedding and other larger items to the laundry.”
“What happened to her?” asked Shadow.
“She fell down the steps that lead to the crypt beneath the Minster. Such a sad story. They’d only been here in York for a couple of years. I think she was carrying a large floral arrangement and she didn’t notice that the door down to the crypt had been left open. She broke her spine. Hugh was devastated. He felt he should have taken better care of her.”
Shadow nodded. He knew that feeling all too well.
“Has he always been the treasurer?” he asked.
“Yes, for years. He was very close to the previous dean. There was talk of him becoming dean himself one day, but after Gwyneth’s accident, he put his own ambitions to one side and concentrated on looking after her.”
“Does Gwyneth work?”
“Not anymore. She used to be a music teacher, travelling around the schools giving individual lessons in piano and singing. Funnily enough I was reminded of her when Luca talked about Verdi. Gwyneth loves all the classical stuff, especially the Italian composers. She was the one who first introduced me to opera. I didn’t think it was my kind of thing, but she lent me a CD of La Traviata and I was hooked.”
“But she doesn’t work anymore?”
“No. She occasionally helps tutor some of the Minster choristers, but she would have needed a specially adapted car to let her travel around the city and, between you and me, I’m not sure they could afford it.”
“Do they have children?”
Maggie shook her head. “No, I think they both wanted a family, but after her accident, well, I assumed that was no longer possible. Gwyneth doesn’t talk about her private life much, but her face always lights up when she mentions Hugh. They send me a Christmas card every year and sign it individually. They both have beautiful handwriting. I remember her telling me that sitting down in the evenings and writing them is one of her favourite things about Christmas.”
By now they were on Goodramgate and outside Maggie’s laundry.
“How long are you planning on staying here in the flat?” asked Shadow. Earlier in the year Maggie had moved out of her cottage when the remains of Roman gladiators had been found in her garden.
“I’m not sure, but I can’t see me ever moving home again. It gives me the creeps just thinking about it,” she replied with a shudder. “Actually, I’ve rented it out to two of the archaeologists who were working on the dig while I decide what to do. Sam is always badgering me to move out to Spain to be near him, at least for part of the year.”
“You’re thinking of leaving York?” asked Shadow, surprised at how upset he felt at the thought.
Maggie shrugged. “Maybe. We’ll see.”
She reached up and kissed him gently on the cheek. “Thank you for a lovely evening and I’m pleased I met Luca. It was nice to hear about Luisa. It’s a shame you don’t share your memories of her more often.”
Shadow stood on the pavement as Maggie let herself into the laundry, waited for a moment until he saw a light in the window of the upper floor and then he turned and began to walk towards Petergate. The cold was stinging his cheeks. It was the first time he’d noticed the temperature that night. He turned the corner and stopped. In one of the shop doorways sat Jamie and Kayleigh and kneeling down to talk to them was Joe Ingham.
“It gladdens your heart to see such charity, doesn’t it, Chief Inspector?” said a voice behind him. He turned to see Clarissa Fortescue smiling broadly at him. “I often see that young man providing hot drinks to those in need. He’s a credit to his generation.”
Shadow thought it best not to give his opinion on what he thought Joe Ingham might be up to and instead nodded to Simon Fortescue, who was a few paces behind his wife and laden down with bags and parcels.
“Christmas shopping?” enquired Shadow.
“Yes, indeed, Chief Inspector,” replied Clarissa. “There simply aren’t enough hours in the day, so late-night opening is an absolute blessing.”
Shadow wasn’t sure her husband felt the same. He certainly looked more subdued than the first time he’d seen him and there were dark circles beneath his eyes.
“May I ask if you’ve received any more anonymous letters?” he asked the dean, wondering if this was what was causing her husband to worry, but Clarissa shook her head firmly.
“No, Chief Inspector, I’m pleased to say that particular unpleasantness seems to have come to an end. Perhaps the writer grew bored or they realised that this is meant to be the season of goodwill. I’m certainly feeling rather festive now and there’s nothing like spending Christmas in a city to make it feel like home. We even found time to pop into Bettys for a spot of supper after we’d finished shopping, so I almost feel like a local,” continued Clarissa. “I really can’t remember when we last had such a fun and busy evening. I’m quite exhausted.”
“Then I won’t keep you any longer,” replied Shadow, noting that Simon Fortescue hadn’t said a word. “Good evening.”
Shadow turned back towards the doorway as the Fortescues headed back towards the Minster, but Jamie, Kayleigh and Joe were nowhere to be seen. He shook his head as he continued on his way. He would have liked to speak to the young man, but at least now he knew he was still in the city somewhere.
He plunged his hands in his pockets, hoping to locate an indigestion tablet, but instead found the last poison pen letter and Marjorie’s photocopy of the wine receipt. Until now, he’d forgotten all about them.
*
The next morning, Shadow was standing in the incident room, staring at the whiteboard covered with photos and annotations, wondering if the pieces of this particular puzzle would ever fit together, when Jimmy came bounding into the room.
“Guess what, Chief?”
“Surely you know by now I don’t play guessing games, Sergeant.”
“I’ve found out something that could be pretty interesting. Last night, I was in bed reading – remember I told you about the book Sophie bought me about the gangs in Europe?”
Shadow nodded as he wondered how long it would take his sergeant to get to the point.
“I was hoping to find out more about Rossetti and the SCU,” continued Jimmy, “when I suddenly remembered that library book you found in Anna’s flat. Well, I thought she must have been a member, so I called in this morning to tell them about the book and see if anyone there knew her.”
“And?”
“As luck would have it June was on duty and remembered her really well. She said she was a really lovely girl, so polite and interested in what June had to say. Like Jake said, she preferred mysteries, but was happy to read different genre and June said she never returned a book late.”
“Hang on, who is this June person?”
“Oh, you must remember June, Chief. She was one of the volunteers at the Roman museum. We interviewed her when those old coins had been stolen.”
Shadow shook his head. He could vaguely recall a long line of elderly ladies and gentlemen, dozing or knitting as they waited in a corridor for Jimmy to question them, but nobody specific. However, it was more than likely his overly friendly sergeant now received Christmas cards from each and every one of them.
“Well,” continued Jimmy, “June also volunteers at the library Thursdays and Fridays and Friday was the day Anna always visited.”
“Any particular reason for Fridays?”
“I’m getting to that, Chief. You see Fridays are quite special at the library. They run an outreach programme. On Friday afternoons, a professional comes to read a chapter of one of the classics – you know Charles Dickens or Jane Austen or something.”
“I am aware of the classic writers in English literature, Sergeant,” Shadow groaned. “This is like getting blood out of a stone! Will you get to the point?”
“Yes, Chief. The professional reader is Simon Fortescue. He’s been doing it for quite a few months now. Apparently, Anna never missed one of his readings and according to June, well, to quote her, ‘He paid Anna more attention than a married man should.’”
Shadow raised his eyebrows. “So you think Anna could be the mystery woman Webster saw Fortescue with?”
“It sounds like it, Chief. She would certainly fit the description he gave us and remember her diary had lots of SFs in it. We thought it was La Scuola Femminile, but it could be Simon Fortescue.” Jimmy was grinning broadly, but Shadow wasn’t entirely convinced.
“Let’s be sure. I want Webster to take a look at Anna’s photo,” he said, standing up and removing her picture from the whiteboard and handing it to his sergeant.
The two detectives left the station and headed over to St William’s College.
“Hey, Chief, do you know what else June told me? She and her husband are about to celebrate their fifty-fifth wedding anniversary and the two of them still go dancing every weekend. Isn’t that great?”
“Wonderful, but what’s it got to do with the investigation?”
“Well, nothing, Chief, but it did sort of restore my faith in marriage, you know after hearing about Mr Fortescue cheating on the dean and poor hen-pecked Neville Prentis.”
*
As they approached the college, they almost bumped into Malcolm Webster, who was leaving the building at great speed, dressed in a black cloak and fedora.
“My apologies, gentlemen, but I cannot grant you an audience at this time,” he declared theatrically. “Already I am late. The good ladies of the Knaresborough and District Women’s Institute have requested my services. I am to act as their guide as they tour our fair city.”
“This won’t take a second. Please could you have a quick look at this picture for us, Mr Webster?” asked Jimmy, producing the photo of Anna from his inside pocket.
Webster took the photo and squinted as he held it at arm’s length.
“Ah, I see like a modern-day Lord Elgin, you have discovered the image of Aphrodite, Sergeant,” he said, kissing the tips of his fingers. “Bellissimo!”
“Is it the young woman you saw with Simon Fortescue in Harrogate or not?” asked Shadow, unable to hide his impatience.
“It is indeed, Chief Inspector. I would be prepared to stake my life on it.”
“That won’t be necessary, Mr Webster, but we may ask you to make a statement sometime in the future.”
“I’m always ready and willing to carry out my civic duty, gentlemen. But for now, I must wish you farewell.”
He handed the photo back to Jimmy, flung his cloak around him and strode away towards the Minster.
“Should we go and speak to Mr Fortescue?” asked Jimmy.
“Not yet. Let’s give him a chance to come to us. If he cared about Anna and isn’t involved in her death, then he must be concerned. If he’s approached anyone at the hotel or Francesco and Lucia’s place, then he’ll have found out what has happened to her,” replied Shadow. “Have her name and photo been released to the press yet?”
“Not yet, Chief. Francesco made the formal identification with Tom. He passed the information on via the local police, but her parents asked us to wait a few days. Her little sister is away on a school trip apparently and they don’t want her to find out through social media before they have a chance to tell her themselves,” explained Jimmy as they made their way back to the station. Shadow nodded, his thoughts straying to another set of parents who still had a teenager at home when they heard about the death of their daughter in a foreign country. Jimmy, however, leapt straight into voicing his theories about what this latest revelation might mean.
