‘Friends?’ I responded, with maximum studied innocence.
‘Don’t mess me about, Corinna. He has access to … let’s say “sources of information” which a mere humble detective can only dream about. And what I want to say is this: if you and Daniel come into possession of any pertinent intel, I need you to tell me about it. Really I do. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.’
I wasn’t going to commit Daniel to anything at all in absentia, so I merely said, ‘Thanks for the warning.’
She rose to her full one-sixty-five-centimetre height then sat down again. ‘Oh yes, I meant to tell you about the mask. I called in some favours and had an express DNA job done on it.’
‘Sorry, but how do you get DNA off a mask?’
‘It was in contact with his face, and that’s all they need. Normally this takes weeks. But as I said, I’m worried about this case. There may be, as we say, ramifications.’
‘Any matches with known criminals?’
‘Enquiries are continuing.’
Helen went inside to pay, while Letty continued to give me the Constabulary Once-Over. ‘Don’t forget what I said, Corinna. I suspect even Daniel might think twice before venturing out of his depth. This one’s got silly buggers written all over it. But not in a good way. Cheers.’
She left at a quick march, and I finished my yoghurt and honey at my leisure.
Philomela: I borrowed Anwyn’s laptop today. At first I couldn’t even remember how to do it, but it started to come back to me. After some practice by myself, I decided that this will work after all. I cannot even begin to tell you how horrible it has all been.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Adversity’s sweetest milk, philosophy.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, ROMEO AND JULIET, ACT 3, SCENE 3
On my way back to Insula, I was rather astonished to see Marie again, sans dogs. She ran towards me, looking like someone who had just remembered that she’d left the gas on.
‘Marie? Forgotten something?’
She patted my arm and looked mortally embarrassed. ‘I did forget something. I don’t suppose you have any bread left, do you? I really need some sourdough. It was the one thing I forgot. Half a loaf will do.’
‘I might have. We’re closed now, but I usually keep some leftover bread for myself. Care to come and have a look?’
I unlocked the front door and looked behind the counter. Sure enough, I had a loaf and a half left. I held up the half. ‘It’s yesterday’s. Is that OK? And are you sure that’s enough?’
‘That would be awesome.’ A huge grin broke across her flawless features. ‘Thanks. How much?’
‘Oh please! Don’t bother. I’ve locked the till, and the day’s finances are concluded with maximum prejudice.’ I tucked the half-loaf into a brown paper bag and handed it over.
Her gaze then fell upon my Bosch print. ‘That’s The Garden of Earthly Delights,’ she commented. ‘Bosch was a bit out there, wasn’t he?’
‘I think he was so far out there he’d gone through a doorway into Narnia.’ I noticed her fingers tracing around a figure in the third part of the triptych, which depicts a musical hell. God knows what Hieronymus was snacking on. Magic mushrooms, at a guess. There was a hapless man with a rather nice bum halfway into a terrible fate. And, yes, there was music inked on his buttocks. She began to sing – without words – what sounded to my untutored ear like something sweetly medieval.
‘Of course, you can read music. That sounds pretty.’ A sudden inspiration struck me. ‘Marie, if I hum you a tune, can you tell me where it comes from?’
She turned to me with a puzzled air, but nodded. ‘Sure. I can try.’
I did my best to recapture the hum I had overheard from my burglar. At first, Marie could make nothing of it. Suddenly her eyes lit up, and she blushed fire-engine red.
‘Corinna, it wasn’t this, by any chance?’ She began to sing in a language I had never heard before: repeated descending phrases, each one starting a little lower than the one before. She looked at me, half defiant and half enchanted.
‘I really think it may have been that. What is it?’
She laughed. ‘It’s called “Beautiful Mountain Girl”. It’s a traditional song from Armenia, where my family comes from. I learnt it when I was little. The first boy who wanted to marry me used to serenade me with it. Then Kate learnt it and sang it to me, accompanied by a duduk she’d borrowed. That’s when I knew she was my true love.’ She fluttered her eyelashes playfully. ‘Where did you hear it?’
I considered telling her that it had been hummed by a man who was burgling my house at the time, but my mouth closed like a mousetrap. Of all the things to share with this wondrous girl, this wasn’t in the top thousand. ‘Oh, just somewhere around. But it’s been haunting me ever since.’
She laughed again. ‘Music’s like that. Gotta run now. Thank you so much. Kate really wanted some sourdough. I think we may be having garlic bread tonight.’
I let her out, and returned to Insula in a thoughtful mood. The sun was still shining down from an eggshell-blue sky, and while we’d probably hit our expected top of thirty-three it wasn’t unpleasant for those who didn’t have to walk far. But the atrium was blessedly cool, and I ran my fingers through the waters of the impluvium. The fountain gurgled away melodiously to itself. No wonder the Romans had liked this sort of thing. Italian summers aren’t as fierce as Australian ones, but days like this are common enough there.
I let myself back into my apartment and took out my phone. Ave, Corinna, we’re in Ceres. Care to join us? Only Professor Monk would send me a Latin greeting, though he had refrained from putting the whole message in the tongue of Cicero out of deference to my linguistic deficiencies. He had come fashionably late to the world of mobile phones, but appreciated the convenience. And I appreciated the invitation. I wondered what other mysteries might be elucidated today.
As I waited for the lift, I went over my earlier lunchtime meetings. The actors? Probably not involved, as I had suspected. Letty White? Good news about the mask, anyway. For the rest, she knew that I knew more than I was letting on, and wasn’t happy (in that peculiar constabulary Not Happy fashion) that I was holding out on her. Too bad. There’s no fun being a private investigator without a certain interplay of mutual distrust with the law. But I would try to keep her in the loop, as much as I thought appropriate. Marie? What a girl! Her beloved was a lucky woman. But how bizarre that all roads seemed to lead to Kilmarnock. I really would have to visit this mythical land someday soon. But not without my Daniel.
At the summit of Insula the lift doors opened, and I beheld a charming sight. Sitting on garden chairs around the large, white-painted wooden table amid the greenery were Therese Webb, Anwyn and Philomela in her wheelchair. All three were stitching away at a large piece of calico, with Anwyn holding up the middle and the other two at either end. Professor Monk sat opposite them, holding a book which I perceived to be his favourite recreational reading (Lucretius’s De Rerum Natura). On the ground, facing off with mutual mistrust and agonised apprehension, were a small chocolate point Siamese cat and Therese Webb’s King Charles spaniel Carolus.