James Chase - Mission to Siena

“I’ll take you out to dinner tonight,” Don said as he made for the door. “If you’re not wearing that new hat, there’ll be trouble.”

Twenty minutes later he walked into Dicks’ office.

“Any news of Gina Pasero?” he asked as he closed the door.

“Not yet,” Dicks said. He looked tired and worried. “Have you something for me?”

Don straddled the office chair, resting his arms along its back.

“Are you still keen for me to go to Italy and see what I can dig up?” he asked.

Dicks lifted his eyebrows.

“I thought we had gone into that, Mr Micklem. You said…”

“I know what I said,” Don interrupted. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Yes, I’m still keen,” Dicks said. “I think you could easily find something that would put us on to the Tortoise.”

“Good. I’ve decided to go,” Don said. “But on one condition: I want a clear field for at least a week.”

Dicks took out his pipe and began to fill it.

“I don’t follow you,” he said. “What do you mean — a clear field?”

“I’m backing a hunch. I don’t want you to contact the Italian police until I have explored a little. Too many fish in the pond will stir up the mud.”

Dicks looked doubtful. . “This is a murder case. If you have any information…”

“I said a hunch, not information. I’m not keeping it a secret. My secretary has been doing some research on the tortoise,”

Don said, “and she’s turned up something that may give us the lead we’re looking for. Ever been to Siena, Super?”

Dicks shook his head.

“Siena is a medieval town. They take a great pride in keeping it that way. Twice a year the festival of the Patio is held in the main piazza1. It consists of a procession of men in fifteenth-century costumes and a horse race. Each horse represents a ward. For hundreds of years Siena has been divided into seventeen wards or districts. Each ward is a self-contained unit with its own crest, leader, church, traditions, and flag. The wards are named after animals, birds and reptiles. One of these wards is named after the tortoise.”

Dicks’ deep-set eyes showed his interest.

“I know it is a long shot: no more than a hunch,” Don went on, “but it might easily be the lead we are looking for. We are hunting for a killer who uses a copy of a medieval knife, who calls himself the Tortoise and who is apparently in rivalry with other Italians. The facts can be made to hook up with Siena.”

Dicks shook his head doubtfully.

“It is a long shot: overlong I think.”

’That’s why I’m justified in asking for a clear field,” Don said. “It isn’t more than a hunch, but it needs careful handling.

If the Italian police started asking questions about the Tortoise in Siena, and if the Tortoise happens to be there, he’ll vanish before they can get their hands on him. I could get information, if there is any information to get, without stirring up too much mud. Do you see what I’m driving at?”

Dicks rubbed his jaw.

“All right,” he said. “Pm only agreeing because I don’t think my opposite number in Italy would bother to investigate this line, Mr Micklem. He hasn’t much imagination. If I haven’t heard from you after a week, then I’ll send him a report.

How’s that?”

“Fine.” Don got to his feet. “I’ll be leaving in three or four days. If I dig up anything, I’ll let you know.”

The telephone bell rang as Dicks was getting to his feet. He picked up the receiver and growled into it. His sudden change of expression made Don look sharply at him.

“Yes, all right,” Dicks said into the receiver. “I’ll be down.” He dropped the receiver back on its cradle. “Gina Pasero has just been fished out of Risings Lock. She was hit on the head before being thrown into the river.”

“Poor little devil,” Don said. “I had an idea something like that had happened to her.” .

“I’ve got to get down there. Do you want to come?”

“No. There are plenty of other people who’ll identify her if that’s what you want. I’ve got a lot to do if Pm to get off by the end of the week.”

Dicks nodded over to a shabby suitcase standing against the wall.

“That belongs to her,” he said. “We brought it away from the hotel. There was nothing in it to tell us anything. The only thing of interest are some snapshots of her taken in Italy. It proves my point again that the guts of this business is in Italy.” He moved to the door. “Want me to drop you anywhere, ah, Micklem?”

“I’ve got my car. Would you mind if I had a look at those snapshots, Super?”

“Go ahead. I’ll leave you to it. My chaps are waiting for me. Mind how you go in Siena and good luck.”

When Dicks had gone, Don lifted the suitcase to the desk and opened it. He found an envelope lying on top of Gina’s few possessions. He shook its contents on to the desk.

The snapshots were all of Gina, most of them taken against the background of Brighton. In one of them, she was standing arm-in-arm with Shapiro, and she looked very happy.

But the last half-dozen snapshots held Don’s attention. They were of Gina somewhere in Italy. The Second oneTie looked at made him stiffen. She was leaning against a low wall that was covered with a bougainvillaea creeper in flower. In the distance, forming a background to the picture, was a large, ornate building. Its familiar outlines and its black and white marble campanile were unmistakable: it was the famous cathedral of Siena.

Satisfied that he was now on the track of the Tortoise, Don went into action with a whirlwind rush that completely disorganized the placid calm of 25a, Upper Brook Mews.

Three hours after he had returned from Scotland Yard, Marian had been rushed to the London airport to catch a plane to Rome. With her went Cherry, pop-eyed with excitement, and delighted to be at last escaping from the rain and fog of London. Their instructions were to find and rent a villa either in or near Siena.

Harry was left in charge of 25a while Don cleared up outstanding business, swept half his correspondence into the waste paper basket and cancelled the numerous invitations that were the bane of his life1 during the London season.

On Thursday morning, two days after her departures Marian telephoned to tell Don she had found a villa and he could move in when he was ready.

“It’s on a hill a mile outside Siena,” she told him. “There’s a wonderful view, no neighbours and the villa is completely screened from the road. The rent is horrifying, but I didn’t think you would want to cut corners so I’ve taken it for a month with an option to run another three months if we want it.”

On Saturday midday, a dusty Bentley nosed its way up a twisting lane, lined on either side by olive trees, through a massive archway, up a drive of flowering shrubs to a villa, red-roofed with dark-green shutters, that stood on rising ground overlooking Siena.

As Harry pulled up before the front entrance, Cherry appeared, his pink and white face wreathed in smiles. He came down the wide stone steps and opened the car door, giving Don a dignified bow.

“You look pretty pleased with yourself, Cherry,” Don said. He stared at the villa. “My, my, this is quite a place.”

“It is eminently satisfactory, sir,” Cherry said. “Miss Rigby is waiting for you. Lunch will be ready in ten minutes.”

An hour later, Don, Marian, Cherry and Harry were on the veranda that overlooked a magnificent view of Siena.

They had just finished a lunch prepared and cooked by Cherry: a lunch of ravioli, veal steaks with white truffles and ice-cream encrusted with candied fruits.