“Have you rung them?”
“No answer.”
“Where is this place?”
“On the Aventino.”
“I suppose I’d better go there on my way home,” Flavia said reluctantly. “Just to tell them to lock up carefully. Do we have anyone who can watch the place?”
Giulia shook her head. “No one except me.”
“You’re minding the desk. Oh, I’ll see what I can do. If you’d get some patrol cars to drive past the place periodically during the night. And while you’re sitting here drinking coffee all night, go through all the lists of coming and goings and sightings and arrivals. Anything at all. OK?”
Father Xavier, still at his desk and attending to the business generated by meetings, received Flavia in his office without ceremony and listened to what she had to say quietly.
“You must get reports like this all the time, don’t you?”
She shrugged. “A reasonable number, but rarely this specific. It would be foolish to disregard it. I thought it would be best to let you know so you could be on alert. Probably nothing will happen, but if you could put that painting into safe storage for a while …”
Father Xavier smiled indulgently. “I don’t think so. And I’m also sure that if any thief saw it at the moment, he would change his mind quite quickly.”
“Why’s that?”
“It’s being restored. By an American gentleman, called Daniel Menzies. Who is doing a very thorough job of it, I must say. He tells me that people who know nothing about the restoration process are always frightened at this stage of proceedings, and no doubt he knows what he is doing, but it is in a very poor state indeed at the moment. He has removed the old canvas, large portions of what he says is nineteenth-century paintwork and a good deal of grime. As far as I can see, there is nothing left at all for any thief to steal.”
“And is there anything else?”
There was a slight hesitation as the priest thought, then shook his head. “We have many things of value to us; nothing of any great value to anyone else. You are aware that we were burgled?”
Flavia nodded.
“A bitter lesson,” he continued. “We had always maintained a policy of leaving the church open on to the street. There is a street entrance, as well as one from the cloister. Some local inhabitants always preferred it to the parish church. It was a mistake, as we discovered. Since then, the door has been firmly locked. It was one of the first things I had to contend with when I took over as superior. The only other way in is through the courtyard, and the door on to that is locked as well.”
“Alarms?”
“No. There are limits. It was considered unseemly that we should defend ourselves in such a fashion. I didn’t agree, but that was the decision of the council who have the last word in such matters.”
She stood up. “It may have been a hoax. But I thought it was wise …”
He nodded, stood up to show her out and shook her hand. “It was very kind of you, signorina. Very kind indeed, especially at such a late hour. And I will make sure that all precautions are taken.”
And Flavia, finally, felt her day was coming to an end. On her way back, she called in to Giulia, to see if anything else had happened. She shouldn’t, she knew. There is nothing worse than an interfering superior, constantly meddling and looking over your shoulder. It does no good at all, and merely makes you uncertain of yourself. She remembered that from her own youth. But she felt uncomfortable.
“Anything?”
“No. I’ve been going through the lists. Airports, hotels, sightings at railway stations, reports from dealers. Nothing of importance.”
“What about the unimportant?”
“Not much there, either. The only thing I did note was that someone vaguely involved in one of your cases last year arrived yesterday evening. Just a witness, though: no involvement in anything illegal. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
“Who?”
“A woman called Verney. Mary Verney.”
Flavia got that little turning sensation in her stomach that always happened when she realized that, if disaster was going to be averted, it would be by sheer good fortune rather than skill or observation or intelligence.
“Some report you wrote seems to have been absorbed into the immigration computer. I don’t know why. It just came up as routine.”
“Any idea where she is?”
“No. But I can try and find out, if you think it’s important.”
“I do. I really do. Think of it as your night-time’s entertainment. Ring round every hotel in Rome if need be. The sooner you find her, the better.”
“Who is she?”
“An old friend. And a very clever woman. You’ll like her.”
“Ah, yes. Mary Verney,” Bottando said the next morning. “The English country lady. Why are you so interested in her? All she did was provide evidence against that man Forster last year. So you told me. Or was there more to it?”
“We got back eighteen pictures, thanks to her,” Flavia said. She didn’t like this bit. “And because of that I was happy to end the enquiry. Getting things back is our main job, after all. But once all the reports were written and the whole affair finished I became convinced she was responsible for most of the thefts in the first place.”
“And you never mentioned this?” Bottando said with a suggestion of slight surprise around the left eyebrow. She avoided looking too embarrassed.
“I couldn’t pin anything on her, and if I’d tried earlier we would never have recovered the pictures. It was a trade-off and, in the circumstances, a reasonable one.”
Bottando nodded. It was, after all, exactly what he would have done himself. He couldn’t complain too much.
“But she’s on the loose? A bit unwise, that, don’t you think?”
“Unexpected. She’s not so young any more, and I was pretty sure she’d retired. She’s no spring chicken, you know. And hardly needs the money.”
Bottando nodded. For some reason Flavia got the idea he was only half listening.
“But here she is,” he observed. “You want to bring her in?”
Flavia shook her head. “No. It may be a completely innocent visit, and it would be a waste of time. I don’t want to start anything official unless we have to explain our interest. But I don’t like her being in Rome. I thought it would be a good idea to let her know that we are aware she’s here. I’ll have her for a drink. It would accomplish the same thing. She’s staying in the Borgognoni hotel. With your permission, I’ll ring her up this morning. And put someone on to watch her.”
Bottando came out of his reverie long enough to frown with disapproval. “We can’t afford that. Don’t have the people. Besides, this monastery business seems a higher priority. If either of them is.”
“Well …”
“No. You can have Giulia. Time she got out of the office, and we can put the cost down to the ministry’s training budget. A bit of practice for her. But that’s all. Get her to stand outside San Giovanni all day …”
“She’s already there.”
Bottando peered at her. “Oh,” he said. “Good. You can have her follow this Verney woman afterwards, for a bit of variety, if you like. Couple of days of that and she’ll begin to realize what policing is really all about. But don’t use anyone else.”
He was right, she knew that; they couldn’t spare two people. Even sending Giulia out would mean masses of extra paperwork for everyone else. But the very presence of Mary Verney in Rome rattled her. She nodded, nonetheless.
Bottando grunted. “Good. Now, is there anything else? Thank you,” he said to his secretary as she slid into the room and deposited a vast file on his desk. He transferred it immediately to a drawer, which he closed with a satisfying slam. “Because if not, I’m going for a coffee.”