Read Online The Marshal and the Murderer by Magdalen Nabb - Free Book Online
Authors: Magdalen Nabb
Ads: Link
it is. 'I'm sorry, very sorry. Well!' He clapped his big hands together. 'We'd better make a start. I gather you're going to be helping us.'
He was smiling broadly but wasn't there that same note of strained enthusiasm which the Marshal had noted in his dealings with Robiglio? Guarnaccia's troubled eyes avoided those of his colleague.
'I'll do what I can from my end. At least I can get some information on the girl for you from her flatmate, the school she used to attend and so on'
'What? Nol The way I understood it, you were to give me a hand here. On the spot! Don't tell me you can't spare me a bit of time. Come on now, nobody's as indispensable as all that. I'm counting on you.' His irritation was unmistakable but he was determined to be cheerful and make the best of a bad job. He even went so far as to slap the Marshal heartily on the back.
'Let's be going. You'd better take a look at the lass, though it's not a pretty sight.'
And the Marshal suffered himself to be taken off in the direction of the sherd ruck, forcing himself to keep up with Niccolini's great plunging strides but too busy with his own preoccupations to bother following the inevitable monologue until he realized it was touching on himself.
'We heard about that in Rome even. Of course; an international crook of that calibre, everybody knew, though I didn't realize at the time that you were the one who got him for doing in that German woman.'
'I didn't get him,' pointed out Guarnaccia, disturbed by such garbled tales going about. 'He died – '
'Here we are . . .' Only one young man in uniform stood guard beside the shrouded form by this time.
'You can go, lad. We'll stay until the ambulance comes.'
'It's already arrived. They're parked in front of the factory since they can't get any nearer and will have to bring the stretcher for her. The magistrate's gone now to say they can take her.'
'Get along, then. Go back in the van with the others.'
'What about you?'
'Marshal Guarnaccia here will give me a lift -you're in your car today?'
The Marshal nodded and the young man left them, touching his cap in salute and walking around the canvas sheet at a good distance without looking down. Probably he had managed to avoid looking at the body the whole time he'd been there.
'National Service?' the Marshal guessed.
'That's right. And you can bet your life his mother'll be on the phone to me before long, wanting me to keep him out of this lot. Comes from a good family, you know the sort of thing - wanted forty-eight hours' leave a couple of months ago to ride his horse in the Four Year Old Trials at Grosseto, and he got it, too, since they know all the right people. Take a look . . .'
Niccolini had lifted the sheet as he spoke.
'That cut . . .' began the Marshal, frowning.
'It looks odd, I know, but that's because it happened after she died, probably caused by a sharp piece of broken pottery when she was dumped here.'
'There's no doubt that she didn't die here?'
'None. And what's more she wasn't dressed when she died, or not fully. She wasn't wearing these jeans, for instance. They were put back on her afterwards, according to the doctor.'
The Marshal looked down in silence at the dark, swollen face. A flap of skin hung down from the gashed cheek and one glazed eye was partly open, giving the impression of an unpleasant leer. Only the blonde hair, wet and dirty though it was, gave an idea of what the girl's appearance had been when alive.
'What a wreckage . . .' Niccolini might have been reading his thoughts. 'If you'd known her . . .' He dropped the sheet abruptly. 'Her underwear's missing.'
Once the stretcher-bearers arrived they turned away and crossed the sodden field in the direction of the factory.
'I'm going to have a word with Moretti,' said Niccolini as they neared the building, one wall of which shimmered with heat. It seemed as though the fierce roar of the kiln inside must burst the whole ramshackle construction. 'He put up a bad show
He was smiling broadly but wasn't there that same note of strained enthusiasm which the Marshal had noted in his dealings with Robiglio? Guarnaccia's troubled eyes avoided those of his colleague.
'I'll do what I can from my end. At least I can get some information on the girl for you from her flatmate, the school she used to attend and so on'
'What? Nol The way I understood it, you were to give me a hand here. On the spot! Don't tell me you can't spare me a bit of time. Come on now, nobody's as indispensable as all that. I'm counting on you.' His irritation was unmistakable but he was determined to be cheerful and make the best of a bad job. He even went so far as to slap the Marshal heartily on the back.
'Let's be going. You'd better take a look at the lass, though it's not a pretty sight.'
And the Marshal suffered himself to be taken off in the direction of the sherd ruck, forcing himself to keep up with Niccolini's great plunging strides but too busy with his own preoccupations to bother following the inevitable monologue until he realized it was touching on himself.
'We heard about that in Rome even. Of course; an international crook of that calibre, everybody knew, though I didn't realize at the time that you were the one who got him for doing in that German woman.'
'I didn't get him,' pointed out Guarnaccia, disturbed by such garbled tales going about. 'He died – '
'Here we are . . .' Only one young man in uniform stood guard beside the shrouded form by this time.
'You can go, lad. We'll stay until the ambulance comes.'
'It's already arrived. They're parked in front of the factory since they can't get any nearer and will have to bring the stretcher for her. The magistrate's gone now to say they can take her.'
'Get along, then. Go back in the van with the others.'
'What about you?'
'Marshal Guarnaccia here will give me a lift -you're in your car today?'
The Marshal nodded and the young man left them, touching his cap in salute and walking around the canvas sheet at a good distance without looking down. Probably he had managed to avoid looking at the body the whole time he'd been there.
'National Service?' the Marshal guessed.
'That's right. And you can bet your life his mother'll be on the phone to me before long, wanting me to keep him out of this lot. Comes from a good family, you know the sort of thing - wanted forty-eight hours' leave a couple of months ago to ride his horse in the Four Year Old Trials at Grosseto, and he got it, too, since they know all the right people. Take a look . . .'
Niccolini had lifted the sheet as he spoke.
'That cut . . .' began the Marshal, frowning.
'It looks odd, I know, but that's because it happened after she died, probably caused by a sharp piece of broken pottery when she was dumped here.'
'There's no doubt that she didn't die here?'
'None. And what's more she wasn't dressed when she died, or not fully. She wasn't wearing these jeans, for instance. They were put back on her afterwards, according to the doctor.'
The Marshal looked down in silence at the dark, swollen face. A flap of skin hung down from the gashed cheek and one glazed eye was partly open, giving the impression of an unpleasant leer. Only the blonde hair, wet and dirty though it was, gave an idea of what the girl's appearance had been when alive.
'What a wreckage . . .' Niccolini might have been reading his thoughts. 'If you'd known her . . .' He dropped the sheet abruptly. 'Her underwear's missing.'
Once the stretcher-bearers arrived they turned away and crossed the sodden field in the direction of the factory.
'I'm going to have a word with Moretti,' said Niccolini as they neared the building, one wall of which shimmered with heat. It seemed as though the fierce roar of the kiln inside must burst the whole ramshackle construction. 'He put up a bad show
Similar Books
