Chapter 23 - Too many suspects

Picture copyright djedj from Unsplash

Gary had completely forgotten about both Sibyls and prophecies. Well, a murder tended to have that effect, so he considered himself to be exonerated.

The prophecies?" he said. "You can forget that. I chatted with an expert before I came here."

"Oh, you did? How would that be possible?" Ike winked at him with long dark lashes that didn't go with her colouring. Mascara most likely; women had definite advantages when it came to false facades. If one cared about one's appearance. Which he didn't.

"No time to tell you either. Okay, you first. What women?"

Brigitte did a whopper of a Gallic shrug. "No idea. Ike had climbed out of the catacombs to call you. Reception is bad down there. Suddenly we heard voices. Graziano, that's the local expert, guided us through a side corridor, away from the tomb. Me, I was happy to get away from that spot. The floor is none too stable. It booms when you walk on it. Graziano says there are more catacombs underneath and I didn't wish to be the one to find them. Anyway, we only heard their voices. I think Ike saw them, didn't you?" She faced her colleague.

"Only the top of their heads. I was hiding in that tomb, remember? Three of them and they were annoyed that you lot were hanging around as they obviously wanted to have a little archaeological dig of their own. They were speculating whether something would down there, in the tomb. I bet it was the scrolls. Don't ask me who they could be," Ike sent her intense gaze his way. "But Brigitte recognised one of them, and this is where it gets interesting."

Brigitte nodded. "The tall one. About my age. The good lady had the face of a horse, and I thought at the time how hard it must be to go through life looking like that. I spotted her at the coach parking before we visited the keyhole."

"I bet that was the Englishwoman. And don't give me that look, Gary, I can say things like that, I'm an Englishwoman myself. The other is a Spaniard and the third must have hailed from India."

"That's quite the global crowd," Gary observed."

Brigitte growled. "Well, I only saw the horse lady. At the time, it meant nothing to me. But afterwards, we had the accident with the coach. And when she turned up in the catacombs, it made me wonder."

Gary downed his wine. "Are you telling me we are faced with two teams of saboteurs? A man in the garden and possibly at the restaurant and an international bunch of females?"

"It's odd, I agree." Ike twirled the stem of her wineglass between her fingers.

"Don't forget the murder," Brigitte said. "In the toilet. That could have also been the females."

Gary shooed away a vision of three loo doors banging open simultaneously and blurry women jumping out wearing maniacal grins. He called his imagination to heel. Murder wasn't remotely funny.

"Mh. I would suggest Ike drops a hint to the investigating officer about these people. And the bit with the mirror, perhaps."

Ike waggled a greasy finger at him. "Oh no, Signore. No way. How would we explain our presence in the catacombs for example? That won't work. How about this: You call that friend of yours and share our findings with him. He can then play the little bird and drop some hints. Much better, if it comes from the inside. If I tell that guy, he will only lock me up or something. I'm already on his blacklist."

"Why am I not surprised?"

She glared at him. How did she manage to get grease on her nose? "Hah, hah. He knew about Germany. Mentioned it already the first time we met. Now, with Shalon dead, he got rather nasty and grilled me like a red pepper. Luckily, I had taken Boris out for a walk. It appears, Shalon hadn't been dead long when I found her, and both the chambermaids and some waiters having a fag out in the garden spotted me beforehand. and gave me an alibi for the last hour before her murder. Otherwise, you might be calling the embassy right now. I'm so not going to do or say anything that puts this chappie back on my heels again, and that's that."

Whoops.

"Ah. Tell me, how can the cops be so precise about the time of death? I know about body temperature, but it's not totally precise as far as I know?"

"Apparently, Shalon's watch broke when she fell. She must have died not more than ten minutes before I arrived." Ike shivered and hugged herself. "I'm so glad, I didn't turn up earlier."

Brigitte patted her arm, and Gary stopped his twitching hand from doing likewise. She would only take it as patronising.

"So are we. Fine, I get your point. I'll see what I can do with Adrian. Just to complete the picture, I chatted with a professor of Roman history and mythology this morning, and he claims those scrolls can't have been in the tomb. Impossible, that your Vestal smuggled them under her tunic during her final journey. So, she must have handed them over to somebody. The expert will do a bit of digging and get into contact. But I bet my last penny those scrolls are lost. They are also not our biggest problem, you realise that?"

"It might amaze you, but we do," Brigitte said, indignance chilling her tone.

"I'm not at all surprised. Not when you two are involved." Out of the corner of his eye, Gary noticed the door to the garden open and a slim figure accompanied by a dog slipping through. Time was up

"Quick. Jon's coming back. How do we take it from here?"

Ike leaned back in her chair. "I suggest, we go back to the Villa Borghese. Perhaps even the coach park up on the Aventine."

Brigitte shook her head. "No point in that. I went after I sorted out the coach, forgot to tell you. Nothing but a stain where the coach stood. Forget it. But perhaps Gary could have a word with that chef in the Roman restaurant? You seem to know him."

"I can try. Not sure it will be helpful, but fair enough."

Jon and a panting and grinning Boris materialised on his left. "Hi, Dad. Can I go back after we've eaten? Paolo has the latest model phone. Cool features, I tell you. Where's my pizza?"

That moment, accompanied by a cloud of garlic and tomatoes, steaming plates landed on the table. Their arrival cut short any comments Gary might have wanted to share about the laziness of modern youth and the time they spend sitting on their bums, playing with technical gadgets instead of getting some exercise.

A man needed to set priorities.

Gary dug in.

Do let me know if you have questions or comments on my novel. Constructive suggestions and feedback are always welcome! And thank you for reading. In doing so, you give my writing a purpose.