The Last Judgement

‘I’m coming to that,’ she said. ‘I decided things were going a bit too slowly, so I did the hard-to-get act. He redoubled his efforts to impress me. And when I asked him how lucrative art dealing was, in a gold-digging fashion, he said enough, if you play it right, but of course it had other uses.

‘So of course I asked what that meant. He looked all secretive and said it was a useful front.’

‘A front?’

‘Yes. Absurd, isn’t it? Anyway, so I said, don’t tell me I’m dancing with a drug-dealer, and he looked upset and said, no, of course not, he was on the right side of the law.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘That’s right. I squeaked with excitement — you would have been appalled if you’d been there—’

‘I’m appalled enough already.’

‘— and said, ‘So you’re a spy. I knew there was something special about you.’ All round-eyed with amazement. So he said not exactly. But he did help the Authorities — just like that, with a distinct capital A — occasionally. They knew he could be trusted.

‘“Ooh, tell me, tell me,” I said. Then, damn him, he came over all coy. He wasn’t at liberty to disclose...’

‘God almighty,’ Argyll said.

‘Yeah, I know. In his defence I must say he was getting a little drunk by this stage, and my flattery had addled his brain. But I managed to get some hints. He’d recently played an important part in an operation. Matters of State, he said. He couldn’t tell me the details even if he’d wanted to. He was just a small part and didn’t know everything.

‘Anyway, that’s when I made my discovery. And my mistake. He was talking about his relations with the Authorities, so I took a gamble. ‘What about your being arrested by the art police?’ I said. ‘How did you know about that?’ he said. I smiled, and said I thought he’d said it. He gave me a very suspicious look and said he had to go to the toilet. I saw him on the phone, and I wasn’t going to get caught like that. So I grabbed my coat and made a dash for it.

‘Unfortunately — and this is where we get to the dishevelled part — his friends were rather quick. They caught up with me as I was getting close to the Métro. Jumped out of the car and grabbed me.’

‘But here you are.’

‘Of course. I haven’t lived in Rome for years without learning how to deal with little things like that. I screamed bloody murder. Help, Rape, Save me. There were half a dozen winos drinking themselves into a stupor round the corner, and they picked up their bottles and ran to my rescue.’

Argyll had given up making comments by this stage. He just looked at her in amazement.

‘It was like the cavalry: Sir Lancelot of the Wine Lake. They charged into action, swinging their bottles round their heads and beat the very hell out of them. It only took a couple of minutes, and there they were, lying on the pavement, out cold. Everybody was very jolly about it, for a while.

‘And,’ she went on, ‘one of them had a little scar above his left eyebrow.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes. Absolutely. Of course, his face was a bit mussed up by then. But that scar, you know. Seemed a bit much of a coincidence.’

‘So who is he?’

‘I didn’t have time to find out. A police car came round the corner; my gallant defenders picked up their bottles, shook my hand, and melted into the background. I decided I ought to do likewise.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it stinks to high heaven. Janet was lying; at least I found that out. So, I thought, if I’ve just beaten up a copper, I’m in real trouble here.’

‘Stop,’ said Argyll, thinking that this had gone on for too long. ‘This is getting absurd. Three days ago I was a humble art dealer, doing my best to earn a modest living. Now, thanks to you, I’m associated with people who push bottles into policemen’s faces.’

‘What do you mean, thanks to me?’

‘I didn’t hit him, did I?’

Flavia looked at him appalled. ‘How ungrateful can you get?’ she asked. ‘I’m not doing this for my benefit, you know.’

‘Whose, then?’

‘You were the one who started all this with that picture.’

‘I didn’t do any of the rest, though. Besides, it’s all over.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’ve been thinking. This is getting too complicated and dangerous. If Janet is going out of his way to obstruct us, we’re wasting our time. Go home, hand it all over to Bottando and let him deal with it. This needs a higher authority.’

‘Wimp,’ she said, feeling more than a little betrayed by this correct but irritating opinion.

‘So why don’t we go home? A job well done.’

‘Because of Ellman.’

‘Carabinieri. Your friend Fabriano. Let him sort it out.’

‘And we don’t know why it was stolen.’

‘So? I don’t care. People steal all sorts of things. Do you have to draw up a psychological profile every time something goes missing? The world is full of lunatics.’

She sat on the bed and made a face. ‘I’m not happy,’ she pronounced. ‘I don’t feel as though I’ve got to the bottom of this. Do you really want to go home?’

‘Yes. I’ve had enough of this.’

‘Off you go, then.’

‘What?’

‘Off you go. Go back home and sell pictures.’

‘What about you?’

‘I shall carry on with my work. With or without the help of you. Or Janet.’