Bitter Remedy (33 page)

Chapter 32

Perhaps it was the slight change in pressure, a deepening of the surrounding darkness, or a tiny noise, but as he turned round, he heard the clicks of the door close and the key turning.

Taking care not to slip on the slimy floor but being merciless with the fungus in his path, he rushed back to the door and hit it as hard as he could with his shoulder. It would not budge. Just as it had not budged for Alina. The difference was Alina had had no idea, whereas he was guilty of wilful stupidity for leaving the key outside. It had felt heavy in his hand, another encumberance, and he was tired. The heavy torch was as much as he could handle.

He knew she was there. He could not hear her, but he could sense her presence. He suspected she wanted to be addressed before she left and closed the second door and condemned him to the same fate as Alina.

‘Silvana! Silvana, I know it’s you. Don’t do this.’

He fancied he could hear her breathing, though the door was too thick. Had she already left the airlock and closed the second door and returned to the surface?

‘Silvana? You’re just making it worse.’

‘How could it be worse?’ Her voice was muffled but distinct, and he sank down on the ground in thankfulness. He might be able to negotiate his way out.

‘They know I am down here.’

‘Well then, they’ll find you, and if you are bluffing, they won’t. It’s worth the risk.’

‘No, it’s not.’

‘Of course it is. I’d receive a charge of attempted murder on top of one of murder. To me it makes no difference. And who knows you’re down here? I don’t believe you.’

He pressed his ear to the door. Maybe she had already left him? He needed to keep the conversation going.

‘Silvana?’

Nothing.

‘Have you seen your father? I think he poisoned himself.’

‘That murdering bastard is dead.’

‘He poisoned himself,’ said Blume.

‘If you say so. I found him with a hole in his head, and Niki’s stupid little pistol in his hand.’

So Greco had been armed all the while. He had missed the pistol when searching the old man. ‘Why did he kill himself, Silvana?’

‘You. All because of you, Blume. You see, it never occurred to him that I might know anything about my mother and what happened, and I didn’t, not for a long time. But I found out several years ago. Then you arrived and forced him to activate some old contacts to find out who you were and how much you knew. That’s when he discovered something about me he didn’t know.’

‘What?’

‘You’re the detective, work it out.’

‘What was in those drinks you gave me?’

‘
Datura stramonium
, a few magic mushrooms. Some acacia seeds, root of pomegranate. Passion fruit, columbine, belladonna, silver berry, nutmeg, morning glory, and yellow hornpoppy. I put a lot of love into it. You must have the constitution of an ox, or you’re immune to poisons. You shouldn’t even be upright, you oversized bastard. Maybe you feed on poison. You gave me the idea, eating that conium. Back then I had no idea you would be so much trouble. I did fancy you a bit, by the way. Not as much as you fancied me.’

‘More than you fancy Niki?’

‘Little Niki. Poor little Niki. He’s loaded, you know. Even more than you’d think.’

‘And Alina? What did she do?’

‘She was going to run off with Niki and his money. I had other plans. I still do. But I wouldn’t mind knowing where Niki has gone. I don’t suppose you have any idea, Alec?’

‘I might. But I can’t think of one good reason for telling you, Silvana. Unless you’re thinking of letting me out of here.’

‘I can’t do that, sorry,’ she said. ‘How long do you think you could survive in there?’

‘About as long as Alina.’

‘I’m worried Niki might say something, you see. He knows, of course. He worked it out the other day. That was the fight you saw.’

Which, thought Blume, is why he took Alina’s passport and almost immediately turned against the investigation he had just asked for.

‘I can tell you where he is.’

‘No, on second thoughts, it doesn’t matter now.’

He heard the outside door close and the scrape of the bolt against the brackets.

The stool from which Alina had fallen, perhaps mercifully, killing herself with a single blow to the back of the head, was still against the wall, and he climbed up to see what she had been investigating. From above, the stench of the corpse was almost overpowering, but he could not climb, balance, search, and cover his mouth and nose all at once. Alina had been a small girl, and whatever she was looking for, he might be able to reach. He aimed the beam upwards, and realized that there was an aperture high up on the wall. It seemed to be the end of a chute, perhaps used for coal or wood once, or a flue of some sort. But it sloped back and then upwards, and was narrow. His body was never going through there. Perhaps his voice would carry, and someone walking above might hear. But he was not going to start shouting, not yet, not at night, and not while Silvana was still about.

Without warning, without even dimming, the light went out. He lowered his arm carefully, feeling the stood below him wobble. If he fell backwards now, he would land right on top of Alina behind him. He banged the torch against the wall, and the two fluorescent tubes lit up again. At least that was something.

Then they went out again.

It might be possible to construct something long, a stick with a rag, and shove it up until it poked above the ground, and then hope that someone would recognize it for what it was. That is probably what Alina was thinking. He stretched his neck upwards trying to inhale the air coming down rather than the odour rising from below. The scent coming down was powerful, too, off-putting, harsh. Nothing as bad as what was below, but unnerving in a different way. He felt around with his hand, looking for a metal grille or something that might stop an object from being pushed through.

The touch was completely unexpected. A split second afterwards, he realized that it had been preceded by something warm, a wet breath. He yanked his hand out before the warm breath turned into a bite. He dropped the torch, which hit the ground and went off. He was falling backwards, as Alina had fallen backwards, to the same spot where she lay. At the last moment, he managed to push out his legs, and his feet hit the ground, one on either side of the body, before the momentum carried him backwards and crashing through the mush of fungus and stalks. He got up and retrieved the light, shook it. One tube flickered into life. He made his way back to the door, sat down, pulled his knees up, and decided to relax. They would find him eventually. Niki’s car would tell them he was here. Unless Silvana was sly enough to remove it, but she would need the keys for that. Would she have the keys to Niki’s car? She might. In fact, she would probably drive it away to wherever she was going. He pushed his forehead against his knees, and dismissed the thought.

Chapter 33

‘Hey, that’s my car,’ said Niki from the back seat. ‘There, halfway into the ditch.’

Caterina braked to a halt, and then reversed. The Carabinieri patrol car following them did likewise. ‘Take a good look. Are you sure?’

‘Of course I am.’

‘That’s the one that Blume borrowed?’

‘Call it borrowing,’ said Niki.

Caterina reached over and touched Nadia’s knee, seeking confirmation. Nadia nodded.

‘Why did he park it there?’ said Niki. ‘If you can call that parking. He has no respect.’

Caterina swung the car through the gates. A mortuary van, three Carabinieri cars, a white van. Two men from the SIS were chatting as they climbed into their white jumpsuits.

The car following drew up behind and the tired maresciallo who had taken her to the princess’s house while Niki and Nadia made their initial statements in the station, clambered out slowly, rubbing his eyes.

‘Ispettore Mattiola,’ he said. ‘Although I do not have men to spare to carry out an extensive search, I will do all . . .’ The rest of his words were lost to a long yawn. He stretched and went over to a uniformed officer standing by the gate lodge. They chatted amiably for a while. Beside Caterina, Niki, his skin the colour of a votive candle, shifted from foot to foot. Eventually the maresciallo returned.

‘Silvana has gone. No one heard or saw her leave. Personally I don’t blame her. What a shock –’

‘What about her car?’ asked Caterina.

‘It’s gone too,’ said the maresciallo. ‘I am worried about her. Your commissioner really brought a lot of trouble here.’

Caterina opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again. She wanted these people on her side and the Carabiniere was right. Blume did carry a lot of trouble around with him. ‘Did you know him well?’

‘Greco?’ said the maresciallo. ‘I thought I did, but,’ he added philosophically, ‘you never know anyone, really.’ The maresciallo patted Niki on the shoulder. ‘No need for you to be here, then, Niki. Would you like to sit down, perhaps? It’s going to be a long day. Longer than yesterday, unbelievably. It never rains but it pours.’

As he said this, the sun cleared the cliff face and bathed the entire scene in soft morning light.

‘Sit down?’ Niki did not understand.

‘In the back of a car, perhaps. With Nadia?’

‘You mean like I am under arrest?’

The maresciallo puffed out his cheeks, pursed his lips, and exhaled for some time as he considered this novel idea. ‘No, no! But we would all save ourselves a lot of running around trying to find one another. I mean the girl has already disappeared, which is a terrible nuisance. Then when the magistrate comes, he can decide. It’s just I can’t have you and Nadia trampling around the villa and gardens, when well . . . you know.’

‘I thought Greco had confessed to killing Alina,’ said Niki. ‘So why would I be under suspicion?’

‘I didn’t say that. It’s just . . . It was an incomplete confession, and now,’ he waved his hand towards the garden where the crime scene investigators had gone, ‘we’ll never know.’

‘Maresciallo,’ said Caterina in her sweetest voice, ‘you must be utterly exhausted.’

He shook his big head in sheer amazement at how true this was.

‘There is a nice bench over there on the side, by the house, I think you should sit on it.’

He thought so, too. When he was settled there, Caterina sat next to him. ‘I’d get you something from the house, but I suppose it would be polluting a crime scene to go in there.’

‘Not much of a crime scene. Door open, but no one there. Some signs of a struggle near the door, but nothing else.’

‘When was the last time you slept, you poor man?’

‘I can’t even remember,’ said the maresciallo. ‘Two deaths in one day. I was on my way back from the first, and I get this phone call. It was 1 in the morning, so I knew at once it was serious.’

‘And it was Domenico Greco?’

‘He just launched into this mad confession about killing a Romanian girl. He sounded delirious. I thought it was some sort of joke, then, well, I hate to say this, but I thought he might be under threat from your commissioner. None of it made any sense. He said he had poisoned himself, and it hadn’t worked properly, and he couldn’t bear the cramps any more. It was exhausting trying to keep up. So I told him we should talk in the morning.’

‘In the morning,’ repeated Caterina.

The maresciallo scowled and folded his arms, crossed his legs, and looked away from her. ‘Yes. That’s what I said.’

‘The public prosecutor is going to be very harsh with you on that point,’ said Caterina. ‘You know how they get. He’ll say things like you received a confession of murder and decided to sleep on it rather than act on it.’

‘He can say that, but it wouldn’t be true. I came down here, soon afterwards. With the
appuntato
over there. We knocked on the door there, no one in, which is when I began to get suspicious.’

‘So you searched the gardens?’

‘Yes. The moon was full. It was quite easy to see. We found him lying under a medlar tree, gun in hand, hole in temple. So we called it in and . . . all this.’

‘I admire the way you know the name of trees,’ said Caterina. ‘I wish I could identify them like that.’

The maresciallo made an effort to appear modest. ‘The medlar is easy. It’s the only tree you’ll find in the garden with flowers on it at this time of year. Its white blossoms were really easy to see last night. Also, the medlar is the only fruit I don’t like. We had one in our garden when I was a kid.’

‘I don’t think I have ever eaten one,’ said Caterina.

‘Don’t. The flesh of the fruit has to rot before you can eat it.’

‘Sounds revolting. Listen, Maresciallo, while you sit here, why don’t I borrow one of your men for a few minutes, walk around?’

‘Why?’

‘To see if I can find the commissioner.’

‘He’s here, too? I need to talk to him about some stuff. Where is he?’

‘I’m not sure. That’s why I want to look.’

‘You can have Paolo,’ said the maresciallo, pointing at the young
appuntato
still standing stiffly at attention in the distance.