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Authors: Magdalen Nabb
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coffee and pastries, soon drove away any lingering odour of mould. By the time the yellow taxi braked noisily at the corner their sense of the real world was restored to them.
When the electronic gate slid closed behind the Chief and Jeffreys, their escort of the previous day was waiting for them. 'If you would follow me,' he addressed them in Italian. He walked before them, one hand on his gleaming sword to prevent it from rattling.
And cavalry boots … wondered Inspector Jeffreys. The same question was in the Chief's mind.
'Speak any English?' he asked the young Lieutenant. The young officer apologized. He spoke Italian and French. When they reached the Captain's office he saluted and left them.
'Good morning,' said the Captain, rising. Carabiniere Bacci, forgiven, was beside him, ready to translate. The Langley-Smythe file was open on the desk. The Captain was looking thoughtful. When they sat down he offered them cigarettes from a carved wooden box on his desk.
'I'd prefer my pipe,' said the Chief, 'if it doesn't bother anybody …'
'Please. Do make yourselves quite comfortable.' He looked down at the file while the Chief was lighting his pipe. They could hear, beneath the tall windows, cars streaming past in the damp, foggy street, sounding their horns impatiently at the frequent delays. Two cars left the building with their sirens going.
'Well,' began the Chief Inspector, 'we've been having a chat with the vicar and we've been to the English library but I'm afraid we haven't got much to tell you other than that Mr Langley-Smythe read science fiction and doesn't, as far as we can gather—I should say didn't—have any friends. I hope you've had a more profitable morning than we have.'
'A number of things have come to light,' said the Captain carefully. 'But perhaps we should begin by looking at Professor Forli's autopsy report. The weapon used, as I think I told you, was a 6.35. The bullet pierced the left ventricle and there was very little loss of blood, death being virtually instantaneous. Professor Forli puts the time of death at approximately three a.m. and this is confirmed by a witness, a child living in the building who was disturbed by a loud bang at a quarter to three. No one else heard anything, There was quite a large amount of alcohol in the bloodstream and the stomach contained whisky but Mr Langley-Smythe seems to have been a steady consumer of alcohol, according to the state of his liver; we have no reason to believe that he was intoxicated, that is, in any way incapacitated by alcohol. His health was otherwise fairly good for a man of sixty.'
'Excuse me …'
'Certainly?'
'You've established the time of death but I presume his meal, his evening meal, would have been completely digested by then. Does that mean we don't know where he ate or who with?'
'We do, as a matter of fact. My men questioned restaurant owners in the quarter, starting from the ones nearest his home. They made a false start, unfortunately, by trying only those restaurants which they thought a well-to-do foreigner might patronize … '
'And … ?'
'They drew a blank. No one knew him. But as there was very little food in the house, and only coffee cups in the sink, it seemed certain that he ate out. They began trying the cheaper places. Apparently, he dined every night at about eight-thirty in a small place in a side street off Via Maggio, known as the Casalinga, the sort of place patronized by local workmen and artisans during the day and by students in the evenings. It's possible to eat a very substantial meal there for about four thousand lire. Langley-Smythe had the same table for one in a corner every night, usually eating just one course, occasionally two. He drank quite a bit of wine.'
'Always alone?'
'Always. Including, of course, the night he was killed. Paolo, the owner's eldest son, served him. He ate two courses: roast beef with salad followed by a crème caramel. He drank most of a litre of red. He was alone
When the electronic gate slid closed behind the Chief and Jeffreys, their escort of the previous day was waiting for them. 'If you would follow me,' he addressed them in Italian. He walked before them, one hand on his gleaming sword to prevent it from rattling.
And cavalry boots … wondered Inspector Jeffreys. The same question was in the Chief's mind.
'Speak any English?' he asked the young Lieutenant. The young officer apologized. He spoke Italian and French. When they reached the Captain's office he saluted and left them.
'Good morning,' said the Captain, rising. Carabiniere Bacci, forgiven, was beside him, ready to translate. The Langley-Smythe file was open on the desk. The Captain was looking thoughtful. When they sat down he offered them cigarettes from a carved wooden box on his desk.
'I'd prefer my pipe,' said the Chief, 'if it doesn't bother anybody …'
'Please. Do make yourselves quite comfortable.' He looked down at the file while the Chief was lighting his pipe. They could hear, beneath the tall windows, cars streaming past in the damp, foggy street, sounding their horns impatiently at the frequent delays. Two cars left the building with their sirens going.
'Well,' began the Chief Inspector, 'we've been having a chat with the vicar and we've been to the English library but I'm afraid we haven't got much to tell you other than that Mr Langley-Smythe read science fiction and doesn't, as far as we can gather—I should say didn't—have any friends. I hope you've had a more profitable morning than we have.'
'A number of things have come to light,' said the Captain carefully. 'But perhaps we should begin by looking at Professor Forli's autopsy report. The weapon used, as I think I told you, was a 6.35. The bullet pierced the left ventricle and there was very little loss of blood, death being virtually instantaneous. Professor Forli puts the time of death at approximately three a.m. and this is confirmed by a witness, a child living in the building who was disturbed by a loud bang at a quarter to three. No one else heard anything, There was quite a large amount of alcohol in the bloodstream and the stomach contained whisky but Mr Langley-Smythe seems to have been a steady consumer of alcohol, according to the state of his liver; we have no reason to believe that he was intoxicated, that is, in any way incapacitated by alcohol. His health was otherwise fairly good for a man of sixty.'
'Excuse me …'
'Certainly?'
'You've established the time of death but I presume his meal, his evening meal, would have been completely digested by then. Does that mean we don't know where he ate or who with?'
'We do, as a matter of fact. My men questioned restaurant owners in the quarter, starting from the ones nearest his home. They made a false start, unfortunately, by trying only those restaurants which they thought a well-to-do foreigner might patronize … '
'And … ?'
'They drew a blank. No one knew him. But as there was very little food in the house, and only coffee cups in the sink, it seemed certain that he ate out. They began trying the cheaper places. Apparently, he dined every night at about eight-thirty in a small place in a side street off Via Maggio, known as the Casalinga, the sort of place patronized by local workmen and artisans during the day and by students in the evenings. It's possible to eat a very substantial meal there for about four thousand lire. Langley-Smythe had the same table for one in a corner every night, usually eating just one course, occasionally two. He drank quite a bit of wine.'
'Always alone?'
'Always. Including, of course, the night he was killed. Paolo, the owner's eldest son, served him. He ate two courses: roast beef with salad followed by a crème caramel. He drank most of a litre of red. He was alone
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