Elizabeth George - Just One Evil Act

“Meaning that she’s telling herself her greater interest is the child. As to the reality? That I don’t know. To be honest, my fear is that she’s blinded herself.”

“Ah. Mine is that she sees things too clearly.”

“Meaning?”

“She may have proved me as lacking as Piero Fanucci when it comes to seeing the truth, my friend. I have spoken to the managing director of DARBA Italia. He is called Antonio Bruno.”

“Good God. Is he indeed?”

“He is indeed. I’m on my way to discuss this with Ottavia Schwartz. If I hand this phone back to Barbara Havers, will you tell her please that things are well in hand?”

“I will do. But, Salvatore, Hadiyyah’s grandparents have landed in Florence. They’ll be on their way to Lucca to fetch her. The child doesn’t know them. But she does know Barbara.”

“Ah,” Salvatore said. “I see.”

LUCCA

TUSCANY

All he said to her was “Barbara, you can trust Salvatore,” but she wasn’t prepared to trust a soul. What she needed to know was how long it might take for the Upmans to get from Florence to Lucca. Would they come by train? Would they hire a car? Would they arrange for an Italian driver? No matter how they did it, she needed to get to the pensione in Piazza Anfiteatro in advance of them, so she told Salvatore to take her there. She told him in English, but he seemed to understand from pensione , Piazza Anfiteatro , and the repetition of Hadiyyah’s name.

Once inside the pensione itself, she took a few breaths. It was essential, she thought, not to panic Hadiyyah. It was also essential to work out where the bloody hell she was going to take her. Out of Lucca seemed best, some obscure hotel on the edge of town. She’d seen plenty of them on her route in from the airport as well as on her route to and from DARBA Italia. She’d have to rely on Mitch Corsico to help her out with this manoeuvre, though. She didn’t want to do it as she was loath to give him access to Hadiyyah, but there wasn’t much choice.

She ran up the stairs. Signora Vallera, she saw, was cleaning one of the bedrooms. She said, “Hadiyyah?” to the woman, who gestured to the bedroom that Barbara and the child were sharing. Inside, Hadiyyah was sitting at the small table by the window. She looked completely forlorn. Barbara’s determination hardened. She would get both Hadiyyah and her father back to London.

“Hey, kiddo,” she said as brightly as she could. “We’re going to need a change of scenery, you and me. Are you up for that?”

“You were gone a long time,” Hadiyyah told her. “I didn’t know where you went. Why didn’t you tell me where you were going? Barbara, where’s my dad? Why doesn’t he come? ’Cause it’s like . . .” Her lips trembled. She finally said, “Barbara, did something happen to my dad?”

“God, no. Absolutely not. Like I said, kiddo, and I cross my heart on this one, he’s gone out of Lucca on some business for Inspector Lo Bianco. I came over from London because he asked me to, to make sure you didn’t worry about where he went.” It was, even without a stretch, the basic truth about what was going on.

“C’n we meet him somewhere, then?”

“Absolutely. Just not quite yet. Just now, we need to pack our things and skedaddle.”

“Why? ’Cause if we leave, how’ll Dad find us?”

Barbara dug out her mobile and held it up. “Won’t be a problem,” she said.

She wasn’t as confident as she sounded. She’d hoped the trip out to DARBA Italia would have put the nails in someone’s coffin. But it hadn’t done, and now she was faced with the big What Next? Corsico was going to have to be appeased, and in the meantime she was going to have to find a place for herself and Hadiyyah that would allow her access to what was going on with the case at the same time as it protected them from the tabloid journalist’s discovery as well as the discovery of Hadiyyah’s maternal grandparents. She thought about all this as she gathered up her things and shoved them higgledy-piggledy into her duffel. After making sure that Hadiyyah was packed up as well, she clattered down the stairs with the little girl following. At the foot of them, she found Salvatore waiting.

Her first thought was that he intended to stop her. But she soon discovered that she was wrong. Instead, he negotiated payment with Signora Vallera, picked up Hadiyyah’s suitcase and Barbara’s duffel, and nodded towards the door. He said, “ Seguitemi, Barbara e Hadiyyah ,” and he walked outside. He didn’t take them to his car, however. Instead, he headed out of the amphitheatre on foot and wound his way through the narrow medieval streets. These led into the occasional unexpected piazza ruled over by one of the city’s ubiquitous churches, past shuttered buildings where the occasional opened double doors gave glimpses of hidden courtyards and gardens, and along the fronts of businesses just reopening after the day’s break for lunch and rest.

Barbara knew there was no point in asking where they were going, and it was some way along the route before it occurred to her that Hadiyyah’s youthful Italian would probably serve the purpose perfectly. She was about to ask the little girl to make the enquiry of Salvatore Lo Bianco, when he stopped at a narrow structure many floors tall and set down the duffel and the suitcase.

He said to them, “Torre Lo Bianco,” and fished in his pocket to produce a key ring. Barbara got the Lo Bianco part, but it wasn’t until he opened the door with the key and called out, “ Mamma? Mamma, ci sei? ” that she twigged this was his mother’s home. Before she could clarify this or protest or say anything at all, an elderly woman with well-coiffed grey hair appeared from an inner room. She wore a heavy apron over a black linen dress, she was drying her hands on a towel, and she was saying, “Salvatore,” in greeting and then in a different tone, “ Chi sono? ” as her dark eyes took in Barbara first and then Hadiyyah, partially hidden behind her. She smiled at Hadiyyah, which Barbara took for a good sign. She said, “ Che bambina carina ,” and bending to put her hands on her knees, “ Dimmi, come ti chiami? ”

“Hadiyyah,” Hadiyyah said, and when the woman said, “ Ah! Parli italiano? ” Hadiyyah nodded. Her “ un po’ ” produced another smile from the woman.

“ Ma la donna, no ,” Salvatore told her. “ Parla solo inglese .”

“ Hadiyyah può tradurre, no? ” Salvatore’s mother replied. She spied the duffel and the suitcase, which Salvatore had left on the doorstep. “ Allora, sono ospiti? ” she said to her son. And when he nodded, she held out her hand to Hadiyyah. She said, “ Vieni, Hadiyyah. Faremo della pasta insieme. D’accordo? ” She began to lead Hadiyyah farther into the house.

Barbara said, “Hang on. What’s going on, Hadiyyah?”

Hadiyyah said, “We’re staying here with Salvatore’s mum.”

“Ah. As to the rest?”

“She’s going to show me how to make pasta.”

Barbara said to Salvatore, “Ta. I mean grazie . I c’n at least say grazie .”

He said, “ Niente ,” and went on a bit, gesturing towards a stone stairway that climbed up what was clearly a tower as well as being the family home.

Barbara said to Hadiyyah, “What’s he saying, kiddo?”

Hadiyyah said over her shoulder to Barbara, “He lives here, too.”

LUCCA

TUSCANY

In the way of all things Italian, they had to eat first. Barbara wanted to deal at once with the list of employees Salvatore had brought with him from DARBA Italia, but he seemed as intent upon having a meal as his mother was intent upon serving one. He did make a phone call, however, speaking to someone called Ottavia. Barbara heard DARBA Italia mentioned and then the name Antonio Bruno several times. From this she took hope that someone at the questura was checking into something. This made her doubly eager to get out of Torre Lo Bianco, but she learned that no one put Salvatore and his mamma off their food. It was simple enough: roasted red and yellow peppers, cheese, several kinds of meat, bread, and olives, along with red wine and, afterwards, more Italian coffee and a plate of biscuits.