Джеффри Арчер - The Short, the Long and the Tall [С иллюстрациями]

When she opened the door this time Antonio followed her inside.

The Naples chief of police called Antonio a few days later, and asked if he was making any progress.

‘I can’t pretend I am, chief,’ admitted Antonio. ‘To date,’ he said, opening a thick file, ‘forty-four people have confessed to killing the mayor, and I’m fairly sure none of them are guilty. And worse, I think they all know who did murder Lombardi.’

‘Someone will crack,’ said the chief.

‘They always do.’

‘This isn’t Naples, chief,’ Antonio heard himself saying.

‘So who’s the latest one to confess?’ ‘Not one, but eleven. The local football team claim they pushed Lombardi over a cliff and he drowned in the sea.’

‘And what makes you so sure they didn’t?’

‘I interviewed all eleven of them. The nearest coastline is over forty miles away, and they couldn’t even agree on which cliff they pushed him over, where they pulled him out of the water, or how they managed to get him back to Cortoglia and tuck him up in bed. And in any case, I’m not convinced that lot could have murdered Lombardi between them.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘They haven’t won a football match in the past fifteen years and, don’t forget, this was an away game. Frankly, I think it’s more likely Lombardi would have pushed all eleven of them over a cliff before they laid a hand on him.’

‘All the more reason for you to come back,’ said the chief. ‘Lombardi’s clearly not going to be missed by anyone in Cortoglia, because I’ve just received a confidential report from the Guardia di Finanza to let me know even the Mafia expelled him. They felt he was too violent. So if you haven’t discovered who murdered him by the end of next week, I want you back in Naples where real criminals are still roaming the streets.’

Antonio wasn’t given a chance to respond.

Everyone took the day off, Antonio included, to celebrate the installation of the new mayor. Lorenzo Farinelli had been elected unopposed, which didn’t come as a surprise to anyone, and the council of six remained in place. Dancing and drinking in the town square went on until the early hours, right outside Antonio’s bedroom window, and that wasn’t the only reason he couldn’t get to sleep.

The next morning he called his mother to tell her he’d met the woman he was going to marry, and she would be captivated, and not just by her beauty.

‘I can’t wait to meet her,’ said his mother. ‘Why don’t you bring her to Naples for the weekend?’

‘Why don’t you and Papa come to Cortoglia?’

During the next few days, the number of citizens who confessed to killing Lombardi rose from forty-four to fifty-one, and when the chief called again from Naples to tell him to wrap up the case, Antonio had to admit that the locals had defeated him, and he accepted that perhaps the time had come to head back to the real world.

Indeed, Antonio might have done so if the new mayor hadn’t phoned and asked to see him on a private matter.

As the young detective walked across the square to the town hall, he assumed that the number of murderers in the town was about to rise from fifty-one to fifty-two, as Farinelli was now the only person on the council who hadn’t confessed to murdering Lombardi, and Antonio had recently discovered he hadn’t been at a conference in Florence on the day of the murder. But he did know who had been.

‘Those in favour?’ said the mayor, looking around the council chamber that he and his fellow members of the Consiglio Comunale had recaptured.

The five other members of the council – Pellegrino, De Rosa, Carrafini, Cattaneo and Altana – all raised their hands.

‘And are we also agreed on the sum of money we should offer him?’

The five hands were raised once again, without a murmur of dissent.

‘But do you think it will be enough?’ asked Pellegrino, as there was a knock on the door.

‘I suspect we’re about to find out,’ said the mayor as Antonio entered the room, surprised to find the whole council awaiting him. Farinelli nodded towards the empty seat at the other end of the table.

Once Antonio had poured himself a glass of water and sat back, the mayor said, ‘We’ve just finished our first meeting of the new council, and wondered if you would bring us up to date on how your investigation is progressing.’

‘Although I don’t have sufficient proof, Mr Mayor, I’m fairly sure I now know who killed Lombardi.’ His eyes remained fixed on the person seated at the other end of the table. ‘However, despite my suspicions, I’ve been instructed by my chief to close the case and return to Naples.’

Antonio couldn’t have missed the collective sigh of relief from those seated around the table.

‘I am sure your chief has made a wise decision,’ said the mayor. ‘However, I confess,’ he paused as Antonio continued to stare at him, ‘that wasn’t the reason we wanted to see you. As you probably know, Lieutenant, Luca Gentile has recently been in touch to let us know that he will not be returning to Cortoglia for personal reasons, and the Consiglio voted unanimously to offer you the position of chief of police.’

‘But the town has only ever had one policeman.’

‘Yes,’ said De Rosa, ‘but we all also felt with so many murderers on the loose, you ought to have a deputy.’

‘But there’s barely enough space for one officer in the police station. There’s only one desk and there isn’t even a lock on the cell door.’

‘True, but then we’ve never needed one in the past,’ said Pellegrino. ‘However, the council have agreed we should build a new police station, worthy of your status.’

‘But—’

‘We’d also be happy for you to go on living in your present accommodation,’ Cattaneo interjected.

‘That’s incredibly generous, but I still feel—’

‘And we’d pay you the same amount as the chief of police in Naples,’ Farinelli said, hoping to close the deal.

‘That’s more than generous—’ began Antonio.

‘However,’ the mayor continued, ‘although we didn’t put it to a vote, there is one thing we all felt strongly about. If you were able to marry a local girl…’

Several guests, including Antonio’s parents and brother, arrived from Naples on the morning of Antonio Rossetti and Francesca Farinelli’s wedding. However, Antonio assured the mayor they would all be leaving the next day.

The whole town turned out to witness the vows of eternal love sworn by the couple, including several locals who hadn’t been invited. When il Signor and la Signora Rossetti left the wedding celebrations to set off for Venice, Antonio suspected the festivities would still be going on when they returned home in a fortnight’s time.

The newly-weds spent their honeymoon in Venice, eating too much spaghetti alle vongole, and drinking too much wine, while still finding a way of not putting on too much weight.

On the final night Antonio sat up in bed and watched his wife undress. When she slipped under the covers to join him, he took her in his arms.

‘It’s been the most wonderful fortnight, my darling,’ Francesca said. ‘So many memories to share with everyone when we get back home.’

‘Including your feeble effort to climb St Mark’s, while pretending you weren’t out of breath when you finally reached the top.’

‘That hardly compares to your pathetic attempt to manoeuvre a gondola under the Bridge of Sighs, despite the gondolier pointing out that it was the widest stretch of water on the canal.’