Either way, I was glad the child survived – a girl. I owe her a debt of gratitude. She helped me understand my lack of importance to him. Stupidly though, with my pride hurt, I tried to replace Michele too soon. That relationship didn’t end well either, apart from the financial benefits. Looking back now, after Pierre, I realise going to Rome was an attempt to put loving him behind me. But life doesn’t work that way. Wherever you go, your personal baggage stays with you. As I said before, I’m not looking for your sympathy. I’ve done my fair share of cruelty, and will do more. I got my training from the witch. She poked and pushed and mocked me to perfection.
I’ve waited a long time to draw the Lovers card. I’ve gone through my introspection, change and indecision, and now I’m ready for a fresh start. The cards tell me I deserve it. I’m entitled.
My new lover’s wife won’t have the same protection as Michele’s. She is a na?ve, stupid woman. The guileless cannot understand the depth of the dark. They cannot fathom what will come next because they have no concept of it. I don’t envy them their stupidity. I revel in it.
I’ve played games with her for long enough. All good things must come to an end. She doesn’t matter to him, not any more. She certainly doesn’t matter to me. She thinks she’s getting close, playing the clever little detective, but she doesn’t know anything. You might think you know me too. I doubt it. I haven’t told you everything, not yet.
LEONARDO DA VINCI AIRPORT, ROME
THE MORNING FLIGHT from Charles de Gaulle airport to Rome was nothing like the one Kate and Adam had taken the previous day. They were tense, having reflected on the contents of the day’s newspaper headline in Ireland. The chief super had already been in touch, and his mood was about as explosive as the engines of their plane on take-off. If the article had simply been a slur on the lack of police resources, that would have been one thing, but it fired in dirt and innuendo, not only at Adam’s police record but by quoting a reliable police source close to the investigation, who placed a question mark over the relationship between the detective leading the international leg of the police inquiry and the female criminal psychologist helping to profile the killer. The article went on to say that, apart from the known lack of resources, there seemed to be more questions than answers when it came to the investigation of Rick Shevlin’s death.
It wasn’t going to change the task ahead of them in Rome, but it certainly concentrated their minds. Adam had moved a couple of levels down from furious to seething. Kate had phoned Declan at first light. The last thing she wanted was Charlie seeing her picture in the paper and asking why. She hadn’t expected Declan to be cool with her, but he gave her the distinct impression that he believed there wasn’t smoke without fire.
‘What you do in your personal life,’ he said, ‘is no concern of mine, but you can’t have it plastered all over the newspapers.’
She wanted to say she hadn’t intended it to be plastered all over the bloody newspapers, that he should know Charlie was always number one with her, and that he wasn’t in a position to be playing the perfect-father card, but she bit her tongue. He would protect Charlie until she got back.
The meeting with Andrea Giordano, the retired police officer from the Michele Pinzini case, was scheduled for ten o’clock at a café close to the Trevi fountain. Kate doubted that she or Adam would be flicking coins into the water any time soon. They arrived with some minutes to spare. She ordered tea, he ordered an espresso, and as the Roman sunlight glistened on the water, and the tourists thronged, everybody seemed in a better mood than either of them.
When Giordano arrived, despite the informality of the location, he looked like a secret-service agent, dressed in a dark suit, shoulders held back, with army-style tight grey hair and reflective sunglasses. His chin was distinctly Italian, with puckered lips, and when he sat down and removed his sunglasses, his eyes reminded Kate of the dark blue from a choppy, dangerous sea.
After a brief introduction, Kate was surprised to see Giordano remove a collection of photographs from his inside suit pocket.
‘Don’t look so shocked, Dr Pearson. I may be retired, but I still have a keen interest in this case.’ His English was impeccable.
‘Why is that?’ Adam asked.
‘You are a detective, so you understand a case getting to you, especially when it remains unsolved. When Alfredo Masciarelli in the Polizia di Stato told me Michele Pinzini’s murder could be linked to an investigation in Ireland, I was intrigued.’
Kate removed her own sunglasses. ‘What can you tell us about Michele’s murder?’
‘As you know, it was vicious. The victim was found naked and tied up, his throat slit. His wife, with their unborn child, was unconscious during the attack. The hotel room was set alight, presumably with the intent of killing everyone involved, other than the murderer.’
‘You say presumably – you have another theory?’
He nodded to Kate. ‘The maid who raised the alarm spoke to a woman a few moments before discovering the fire. She told the maid she was needed in a room close to the killing. We couldn’t find anyone staying at the hotel who had made such a request.’
‘What about a description from the maid?’ Kate asked.
‘Nothing concrete. The woman wore large dark glasses shielding most of her face.’