Family Business (16 page)

‘I really think so,' Angelo said with enthusiasm. ‘Where is he taking you, this equipment giant?'

‘Hardly a giant,' Rosetta said. She pirouetted. ‘Do you know the French café in Shires Yard?'

‘You'll knock 'em dead,
ma jolie soeur
.'

‘Oh Angelo, thank you for saying so!' Rosetta went to her brother and kissed him. ‘Oh dear. Now you've got lipstick on your cheek.' Humming, she left him to go back to her room.

Angelo rubbed his cheek. Now I have lipstick on my hand, he thought.

He returned to the window to see if he could see the children. He shouldn't be able to, but … Neither Marie nor David was in sight. Angelo tested the soil around the base of each plant on the sill. All were moist.

He looked at the plate of biscuits. He picked up a garibaldi. Perhaps this one had the taste they ought to have. But instead of biting, Angelo dropped the biscuit back on the plate.
Basta!
Enough chances he'd given them. He picked up the plate and scooped the biscuits back into their box. He gathered up his and Gina's tea mugs. Time to do something constructive.

At that moment he heard a clatter of feet on the stairs from the street. He heard a high-pitched voice, but not the words. The bustle meant it was the children. Coming to the office? What for? Some argument?

Angelo stood, facing the door squarely. Resolved to fire his ‘ops' on the spot.
Basta
was
basta
, no?

The office door burst open. Kit Bridges marched in. She was followed by a round man with a camera hanging by a strap from his neck. ‘This is him,' Kit Bridges said. She pointed at Angelo.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Gina parked and walked to Block Letter having decided to force her way into the premises if she could do so without attracting attention. She didn't know quite what she would look for, but she felt strongly that she needed to know what Howard the Slimy Detective was printing that could possibly affect Jack Shayler.

But while Block Letter was not open for business on a Saturday morning, some of the other small companies beneath the arches were. Many, Gina saw, dealt with aspects of the motor trade, though one was a monumental mason. There was also clear activity under an arch that adjoined Block Letter's, although there was nothing to indicate the nature of the business. A van was parked in front of it, and doors of both van and premises were open.

Gina tried Block Letter itself first. She knocked, she rattled the door, she peered through the plastic window. But nothing elicited response.

So Gina went next door. Inside she found a man and two women busily preparing sandwiches. The two women each had a table covered with rolls and fillings. The man gathered and bagged the completed sandwiches from both tables and allocated them to flat boxes. Behind the women were more rolls and tubs of fillings. The quantity of food being prepared was huge.

‘Sorry, love,' one of the women said as Gina came in. ‘No time to stop and sell you a bap.'

‘It's information I was hoping for,' Gina said.

‘If it's a one-off event you're organizing, we won't be able to fit you in till week after next. If it's something regular, give us the dates and we'll put you on the circuit. If you're desperate, we can probably get someone over to you for next Saturday, long as you're not too far from another sale we're already catering.' The woman spoke without missing so much as a tomato slice.

The second woman said, ‘We stock you to sell yourself. We don't provide counter staff or display. But our rolls are top quality, and if people like the food you provide they always stay longer and buy more.'

‘If it's for an event during the week,' the man said, ‘great. But if it's another bloody weekend or bank holiday gig, we're already up to our boiled eggs.'

‘He means “eyeballs”, love. But he's right,' the first woman said. ‘We're very busy, thank God.'

‘Does that cover what you wanted to know?' the second woman said.

‘I'm afraid I've come in about something else altogether,' Gina said.

‘What would that be?' the man asked.

‘I'm trying to get a word with the bloke who runs the printers next door.'

‘Oh,' the second woman said. ‘
Him
.'

‘You know him then?' Gina asked.

‘Not to be civil to. Ten seconds after I said hello the first time, he was trying it on,' the second woman said.

‘Ugly git with a flash car? That who you mean?' the man said.

‘He's the only one who works there, Karl,' the first woman said.

‘I thought there was two of them,' Karl said.

‘Not for months now,' the second woman said. ‘Ever since the murder.'

The round man with the camera said, ‘Miss Bridges has told me all about this mystery man who's posing as one of your private detectives, Mr Lunghi. So what I'd like to do is take a photograph of you and Miss Bridges together so they can run it with the story.'

‘Hang on,' Angelo said. ‘What story?'

‘In the
Chronicle,'
the man with the camera said.

‘Oh please, Mr Lunghi,' Kit Bridges said. ‘I can't have some evil crustacean going around the city suggesting that there's something in my life that needs investigating.'

‘A story in the paper will help track the bugger down,' the man with the camera said.

‘I'm not sure that's the right way to go about it,' Angelo said.

The man with the camera said, ‘The paper will run the story anyway, but with a picture it'll get better play. And it will be good publicity for you, Mr Lunghi. The
Chronicle's
read all over the area. A story with a pic will bring in more business than any advertising you can do. Chances are you'll be rushed off your feet. I've seen it happen before.'

‘And it will be good for me too,' Kit Bridges said. ‘I'll be on record saying that this subhuman is telling lies about me.'

‘So why not a picture just of you?' Angelo said.

‘Much better the two of you,' the man with the camera said. ‘“Private eye rescues damsel in distress.” They'll print it four times as big. Could even be on the front page if it's a slow news day.'

‘Oh please, Mr Lunghi,' Kit Bridges said. ‘Please!'

The man with the camera said, ‘You wouldn't want to disappoint the pretty lady, now would you, Mr Lunghi?'

‘Well …' Angelo said.

‘That's great! Now tell me, Mr Lunghi, you must have a mac around somewhere. And a hat with a brim. The sort of thing you might wear when you're out on a case. And how about a gun? Needn't be the real thing. And do put those dirty cups down.'

‘No costumes,' Angelo said. ‘No dressing up. If the intention of this picture isn't serious, I'm not interested.'

‘Of course, Mr Lunghi, if that's your feeling we'll respect it completely,' the round man with the camera said.

Angelo thought about Howard's use of Kit Bridges' photograph to try to pick up women. Maybe even planning to harm them. Warning women in the city, that would be a good thing to do. ‘All right, then,' he said, ‘let's do it.'

The man with the camera pushed some buttons and held his camera up. He said, ‘Let's sit you in the chair by the window.'

Angelo hesitated. ‘Shouldn't I be at my desk?'

‘It's less formal if you're in the chair,' the man with the camera said. ‘Miss Bridges, dump those cups somewhere.'

Angelo allowed Kit Bridges to take the mugs. Oh well. The picture would show a friendly, family business. Angelo sat in the chair. Kit Bridges put the mugs by the computer.

‘Now, Miss Bridges,' the man with the camera said, ‘how about giving him a thankyou kiss? Bending over, like they do on seaside postcards. You know the drill.'

‘Hang on,' Angelo said, but Kit Bridges immediately moved in close, bent sharply at the waist and put her lips on Angelo's cheek while rotating her torso toward the camera in a way which maximized the display of her cleavage. The flash went off twice in rapid succession.

‘That was nice,' the man with the camera said. ‘Now how about sitting on his lap?'

‘I'm not very heavy,' Kit Bridges said. She jumped on to Angelo's lap.

From the doorway to the street Angelo heard Salvatore's voice. ‘Well well, bubba, what have we here?'

As Angelo turned to look at his brother, he came face to face with Kit Bridges. Kit Bridges kissed him full on the lips. The flash went off twice again.

‘That's
great
!' the round man with the camera said. ‘That astonished look was perfect, Mr Lunghi. You're a natural.'

Saturday parking in the centre of Bath lived up to its reputation. Gina found a queue at the Ham Gardens multi-storey. The railway station was hopeless. Manvers Street was full. It was particularly frustrating to drive past the very building she wanted to go into without being able to stop.

As she waited at the lights by the Abbey Gina had a decision to make. Circle to try the car-parks again? Or would it end up quicker to drive home and walk?

She opted to try for space one more time. She drove the circuit that took her back to the car-parks. And her persistence was rewarded. Not only had the Ham Gardens queue cleared, when she drove in she was able to snap up a first-floor place as it was vacated by a dirty white van. An early bird.

Gina paid, displayed, and walked to the police station.

‘Excellent bone structure,' Salvatore said after Kit Bridges and the man with the camera left to rush the photographs to the newspaper. ‘Even better than on the picture Howard shows.'

‘A story in the paper will warn women to be wary,' Angelo said.

‘Is that what you said to get her on your lap?'

‘If you ever need tips on handling women,' Angelo said, ‘you know where to come.'

‘How did Gina do at the Shaylers' this morning?'

‘Sally, can we talk over a cup of coffee outside?' Angelo said.

‘Any particular reason?'

‘I want to have a look at how David and Marie are getting along.'

Gina knew enough police officers in Bath for it to be almost certain that one of them would be on duty. But it was Charlie she asked for and Charlie she got.

A constable escorted her to the door of the computer services room. Gina knocked and went in. Charlie was at his desk, talking to a woman CID officer. The woman said, ‘If only girls were a Diamond's best friend.' She rose and offered Gina her chair. ‘See you later,' the woman said to Charlie.

‘I'll warn you when he's prowling around if you'll warn me,' Charlie said. The woman laughed and left.

Gina sat.

Charlie said, ‘Gina! We talk so often but meet so rarely. Who's been murdered?'

‘That's what I hope you'll tell me,' Gina said.

‘I was just about to send David to ring you,' Marie said.

‘Uncle Sal and I were passing,' Angelo said. ‘How are you getting on? Has anything happened?'

‘Nothing,' Marie said.

‘The postman delivered a letter,' David said. He looked at his notebook. ‘At 10.48. Buff envelope.'

‘He doesn't want to know that,' Marie said.

‘Keep up the good work,' Salvatore said. ‘Come on, bubba.' Outside a coffee shop called The Underground, Salvatore stopped. But Angelo said, ‘Not here. If they're busy they take forever.'

Salvatore shrugged. ‘Great loos.'

‘What?'

‘The walls are papered with comics.'

Angelo led his brother to a catering van in the yard outside the brick warehouse which housed the Saturday Walcot Street antiques fair. ‘I'm buying,' he said.

‘In that case,' Salvatore said, ‘a large coffee and … Those filled rolls look good.'

‘And a tea for me,' Angelo said.

They sat on white plastic chairs by the van. Salvatore said, ‘Surveillance on the Shaylers, eh?'

‘It's a long story,' Angelo said.

‘Before you start, have you or Gina heard from Muffin?'

‘Muffin?'

‘She was going to try modelling for me this morning. But she didn't show up, and there was no message. And now she's not at her hotel. I thought maybe …'

‘I haven't heard from her,' Angelo said. ‘Might she be in trouble? Is that what you think?'

‘I'm surprised, that's all. She seemed so organized,' Salvatore said. ‘And I'm really in the mood to get some work done.'

‘Oh,
that
kind of modelling,' Angelo said.

‘It's the romance of computers,' Charlie said. ‘Press a few buttons, and locate a murder.' He read from the screen. ‘Adamson, the dead man's name is?'

‘That's the name I was given,' Gina said.

‘Well, let's see what we can come up with.'

In a few moments a file came up on Charlie's screen. ‘Right first time,' he said. ‘Murder it was. Blow to the head. Unsolved.' He turned from the screen. ‘Gina, just what's brought you in to ask about this?'

When Angelo got back to the office there were no signs of Gina's having returned from Block Letter. He sat at his desk. Nothing on the answering machine. Then he noticed that the computer terminal was on.

Had he left it on? No, he hadn't looked at it all morning. So David must have left it on overnight. Ah, David had taken the late call from Mrs Shayler and rushed out.

Angelo saw that there was a flashing box on the screen which included the message, ‘Letter for David.' What was that supposed to mean?

Angelo's instinct was to turn the terminal off, but if he did that maybe something would be irretrievably lost. He considered ringing through to Rosetta. But Rosetta was bound to have left for her lunch. And even if she hadn't, Angelo didn't much feel like being the recipient of a computer lesson, even one not conducted by Ignatius White.