Giotto's Hand

A touch inconsequential, this, but she seemed to be heading in the general direction of saying something, so Flavia again sat there and waited.

“So now you write to us. Why, might I ask?”

Signora Fancelli gestured at her wasted frame, as though that was answer enough. “The priest,” she said. “Father Michele said it might make me feel better. It does.”

“Very well, then. We will, of course, have to check your story thoroughly. And you will have to make a statement.”

“And will there be any trouble?”

Flavia shook her head. “Good heavens, no. Unless you’ve made this up and have been wasting my time…”

“For him, I mean. For Forster,” she said with a sudden hatred that Flavia found almost shocking.

“We will investigate your statement fully. That’s all I can say. Now, perhaps we can get this down on paper…”

“Geoffrey Arnold Forster,” Flavia told Bottando when she got back to the office, dumped her bag and was swept off to a small restaurant to discuss the matter over lunch, “was born in England on 23rd May 1938, so he’s fifty-six. Brown eyes, height about one metre eighty-five.”

Bottando lifted a sceptical eyebrow. “You mean to tell me that she could remember all that after more than thirty years? Remarkable lady.”

“That’s what I thought. However, it makes some sort of sense. She knew she’d have to fill out a birth certificate when the child was born, and she didn’t want the space under ‘father’ to remain blank. So she copied down the details from his passport before the row broke out between them.”

“She must have suspected he was going to put up a fight, then,” Bottando said as he stirred sugar into his coffee and then sipped at the thick syrupy mixture that made life worthwhile.

Flavia shrugged. “It seems a reasonable precaution to me. She was poor, uneducated, pregnant and nearly ten years older than him. Anyway, that is how we have such detail. The question is, what do we do with it? Going to Parioli for a thirty-year-old crime is one thing. Going all the way to England and involving all sorts of international requests is quite another. Quite apart from the possibility that the man could even be dead.”

Bottando thought it over, then nodded. “No. You’re right. It’s a waste of time. Too much trouble. If it was easy to find out who Forster was, then we might go through the motions, I suppose. But as the chances of actually recovering the picture are zero, there doesn’t really seem much point.”

“I’ll check through the beastie book to see if Forster’s a regular customer. Just to be on the safe side.”

The General nodded. “Yes. And I suppose a modest report just to tidy things away. Mark it not to be followed up. Did you get a proper statement?”

“Yes. She was too frail to come in herself, so I took it all down and got her to sign it. She’s going out fast, poor old thing. Although she’s still incredibly bitter about Forster. She reckons he destroyed her life, and she’s never forgiven him.”

“If she’s telling the truth, then she’s probably right.”

“Tell you what,” she went on, a thought passing through her mind. “Jonathan’s going off to England tomorrow. I could get him to ask around. Just to see if anyone’s ever heard of this man. And while he’s doing that, I could go and see if this woman’s story checks out in Florence. If there’s anybody at all left alive to tell me.”

Bottando thought about it, then shook his head. “No,” he said. “Not worth it. A waste of time.”

“Oh,” she said, slightly disappointed. “All right. If you say so. But talking of time wasting,” she said as the bill came, “how’s friend Argan?”

Bottando frowned. “Don’t try and manipulate me by bringing him into it. This has got nothing to do with him.”

“Of course not.”

“Besides, he’s being awfully nice—at the moment.”

“Oh yes?”

“Yes. He’s in his office and hasn’t stuck his nose in anything all day. Sweet as pie.”

“So you’ve decided he’s OK?”

“Certainly not. I’ve decided he’s up to something. So I don’t want to make a false move until I discover what it is.”

“I see.”

“So if you have an opportunity to find out what’s putting him in a good mood…”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

3