The Apartment In Rome Part 32

'I could do with a smoke if you have a spare. Leone always gets my goat.'

'Oh.'

They went out onto the terrace. Sasha struck a match and Gina cupped her hand around the flame. Sasha lit her own cigarette from the tip of Gina's. She didn't smoke much as a rule mainly rollies late at night when she'd drunk enough not to notice the taste but there was no doubt the nicotine had a sedative effect. It united them in a temporary truce.

Sasha said, 'Why does he get your goat?'

'It was kind of an odd situation.' Gina plucked a leaf from a lemon scented geranium and crushed it between her fingers, releasing a fragrance more pervasive than the wafting smoke. 'Me, the Lion King and the Raven Queen. It must have been the most peculiar triangle you were ever likely to find. Theirs was a meeting of the minds, Felix used to say, even though they always argued. I'd let them get on with it because I knew they were both cleverer than I was. Jealousy doesn't have to be s.e.xual, you know. Leone thought I was after what I could get, which, when you've had to fend for yourself since the age of sixteen, is likely to be true. That's what you are, isn't it, sixteen? You don't know you're born, darling.'

Sasha said nothing, although she felt very old, positively ancient compared to a year ago, when she'd still been walking the dog and none of this had happened.

'We rubbed along,' said Gina, 'because Felix was dying and the sainted Leone was rea.s.suring him about heaven. I was trying to keep everything together. I was going out with a graphic designer at the time who was helping me set up a new web page. But he flipped out when Felix and I got married, so that was the end of that. Leone wasn't happy either. All I'd wanted was to secure possession of the apartment, but I ended up inheriting the pictures too. And I have bent over backwards ever since to prove that I'm not a gold-digger. I've done my bit for the lost boys.' Her hand was shaking and a column of ash cascaded onto the ground.

'I feel like he can see straight through me,' said Sasha. 'That he knows whether I'm telling the truth or not.'

'Yeah, he keeps people on their toes. Maybe that's his USP. One look from Leone and you have to start examining your motives. Mind you...' She paused to bury her stub in a plant pot. '...You'll find he's not judgemental. Hypocrisy isn't one of his failings. We are all sinners.'

Sasha supposed she was included in this, that Gina was getting at her again for stealing the drawing. Well, she could have it back now; she was through with being lectured at. 'I took care of it for you,' she said. 'It isn't creased or anything. I've kept it clean and flat in the plastic envelope and '

'So the real irony,' continued Gina as if she hadn't been interrupted, 'is that here are you and I'm feeling guilty about our peccadilloes and misdemeanours while he's committed the greatest crime of all.'

'Who?'

'The Lion King.'

'What did he do?'

'He killed a man.'

Sasha's jaw dropped.

'A close friend, I believe.' Gina seemed pleased with the reaction she had elicited. 'But it was an accident; manslaughter. Years ago, when he was a seminarian at Villa Palazzola it's in the Castelli region and we went there today, which reminded me. He was driving down the hill, too fast, and swerved to avoid an oncoming car; crashed into a tree. His pa.s.senger died of internal injuries. No seat belt Italians like to live dangerously so it wasn't entirely his fault. It isn't common knowledge, by the way. It was pretty much hushed up because they shouldn't have been out together that afternoon. Skiving in the woods, letting their pa.s.sions run away with them. Indulging in a bit of illicit frolicking. Hence the hurry, you see they were going to be late for the Angelus.

'I heard the story from Felix, and if you're wondering why I'm telling you, it's because I'm trying to get across the fact that you shouldn't take anything or anyone at face value. He's a fine man, Leone, a very fine man, who once took a few chances and made an awful error. I'm sure it still haunts him and that's why he can be difficult to deal with. But don't let it get to you. We all have skeletons of one kind or another. We do bad, stupid things from time to time. But we can do the good stuff too.'

Sasha was trying to digest this information, trying to work out whether it made any difference to the way she thought about the priest and his project. She was imagining the consequences of such a dreadful accident when she caught her friend's voice floating through the air and was momentarily disorientated.

'They're back,' said Gina peering over the railings. 'You'd better give me the drawing.'

'You will keep your promise about the photos? I can trust you?' Recalling, as she spoke, that this was a woman whose motto was 'Trust no one'.

'A bargain is a bargain,' said Gina holding out her hand.

'Can I ask you one more thing?' The words came out in a rush. 'What happened to Thomas Stanhope, your little boy?'

Down below Ruby was swinging her helmet. Mitch.e.l.l rang the doorbell.

'You'll have to ask your father.'

30.

Mario drove Gina to David's; she wanted to arrive in immaculate condition. Besides, she couldn't have walked because she was wearing her new, shockingly extravagant, staggeringly high heels from Dolce & Gabbana. Red was her lucky colour. The gallery was closed so she had to ring the bell.

'What have we here?' mocked David as he let her in. 'The Wicked Witch of the East? Or Dorothy trying to get home to Kansas?'

'Sod off, darling. I decided to treat myself.'

He led her through the echoing exhibition s.p.a.ce into his office and opened the chilled drinks cabinet set into a faux marble column. 'Ready for a drink?'

'Go on then. White wine. I need it. Is he here yet?'

He shook his head. 'He may be delayed.'

'I don't see why you're being so mysterious about him. Anyway, while we're waiting, I have something to get out of the way.'

She threw herself on the sofa and kicked her shoes onto the limestone floor, where they gleamed like freshly spilt blood. She pulled the drawing out of its folder and handed it to David. 'I thought maybe you could sell this for me.'

When he grinned his teeth were aggressively white. 'Jeez, Gina, you've still got it.'

'Why did you think I hadn't?'

'Well, Felix always had the Cy Twombly in pride of place, right? So when I didn't see it any more I figured you'd already got rid of it. Guess I thought somebody had made you an offer you couldn't refuse.'

'You never said anything.'

'Maybe I was kinda hurt you hadn't consulted me.'

'I never could make up my mind whether I liked it. After it fell off the wall and the gla.s.s smashed, I decided to put it somewhere safe. And it's caused me so much ha.s.sle lately I don't want to hang onto it any more. I can't take the responsibility. Do you think it's a good time to sell?'

'Sweetheart, none better. The price I could get for this, you could buy yourself a G.o.ddam apartment. Well, a down payment at least.'

'For real?' This was the news she had hoped to hear, but it still made her gulp.

David opened a drawer and wrapped the picture in a protective parcel of tissue, card and bubble wrap. He unhooked the large canvas from the wall and twisted the combination dial on his hidden safe. He locked the parcel inside. 'You did well out of that guy,' he said.

'I'd rather have him alive, any day.'

'So would we all.' He replaced the canvas and turned to her, shaking his head. 'But he's had you stuck in a rut for years, kid. Time you grew up.'

Fake-youthful, bleached-blond David, indulged by the tolerant, older Sergio as he ran around with adolescents, chasing new blood how dare he? 'You're telling me to grow up!'

'Somebody has to. Cut yourself some slack.'

'What do you mean?'

'Look, I know this maybe sounds a little harsh, but how long is it since Felix died?'

'Nearly five years.'

'And have you moved on?'

'Well, of course I have.'

'So how come that apartment's such a shrine to him? Why are you hanging onto every single piece of his furniture? Hey, I know it's cla.s.sy but you've said a million times it's not what you'd choose.'

'I bought a new sofa bed. I haven't got around to the rest, that's all.'

'Gina, hon, you will never get around to it. I'm telling you, the best thing you could do is start fresh. Right now you could give the head-shrinkers a field day. Sell off Felix's furniture it should be worth quite a bit and get some stuff of your own that you really like.'

'I just need to get things sorted...'

'With Boletti?'

'Well, yes, partly. What are you getting at? Is there something I should know?'

David didn't say anything. He'd gone back to the drinks cabinet and was fiddling with the cork of the wine bottle.

Gina glanced into the dim deserted gallery, the shadowy portraits on the walls. 'He is coming, isn't he?'

'I already told you, he's stuck in traffic.'

'He'd better be worth waiting for.'

'I think you'll find he is.'

'I mean, legal processes in this country are such a nightmare. It would make all the difference to have a really good lawyer, someone you can rely on...' Something in his expression alerted her. 'David! Why are you pulling a face? What's going on?'

'Nothing. Cool it. No call to get uptight.'

'Look, the last thing I need is you going back on your word. It was your idea we met for a casual drink, right? You made out I was in for a wonderful surprise, that your mate was the answer to a maiden's prayer, and he could probably walk on water at the same time.'

'Back off, Gina.'

'But he's not the hotshot lawyer you promised when you called me, is he?'

In truth, David had been as cagey as usual, but she'd detected a suppressed note of excitement which had raised her hopes.

'Hon, I said no such thing.' He leaned back, threading his fingers together and cracking his knuckles. The overhead spotlight exaggerated the artificial straw of his hair and the coa.r.s.e, much darker stubble on his chin; it illuminated the pale creases at the corners of his eyes and the tiny reminders of cosmetic surgery behind his ears. 'How about we start over?'

'Start over?'

'You come into the gallery and take a seat. I offer you a drink. We're civil to one another.' As he took her empty gla.s.s, the bell rang. 'There!' he said in triumph. 'You see, I have not let you down.'

Gina stayed in the office, restoring her shoes to her feet, listening to the exchange of greetings, the click of the double doors as they closed against the night. David was a ghostly figure in white. His guest, in a sober dark suit, was harder to discern. She could tell only that he was tall. Even when he appeared in the doorway and she saw his face, with its tr.i.m.m.i.n.g of beard, it took her a moment to recognise him.

'May I introduce Franco Casale,' said David. 'Gina Stanhope.'

'Piacere.' Casale extended his hand.

'We already met,' said Gina, shaking it briefly and returning to her seat. 'At the opening.'

'You did?' David was perplexed. 'You never said.'

'You never told me who was coming here this evening.'

'I have given you my card,' said Casale. He reached into his pocket as if about to produce another.

She said quickly, 'Sorry, I lost it. But I don't remember it describing you as an avvocato.'

'He isn't,' said David, waving the wine bottle. He refilled Gina's gla.s.s and handed a fresh one to Casale.

Start over, he had said. What on earth did he mean, if this was the kind of nonsense he was going to come up with? 'Then you've got me here under false pretences. I thought I'd made it absolutely clear I was looking for a good lawyer.'

'So is Boletti,' giggled David. 'Franco here has had him under investigation.'

Gina set down her wine, not wanting to spill it. 'You're a cop!' she said in disbelief.

'He's a tax man, hon.'

'A what?' Wasn't this worse? 'You are kidding me!' n.o.body ever declared their full earnings but David's dealings with art and artifacts, with objects whose price related to the amount clients were prepared to pay as opposed to any intrinsic value, surely he was the last person to want a tax official sniffing around. Unless he was bribable... She a.s.sessed Casale again; he looked dead straight to her he had a fastidious manner that reminded her of Felix but you never could tell.

Seeing her expression David said, 'No worries. We're small fry to Franco. He's in the tax fraud section; he's only interested in the big guys. I know you figured a bar would be a neutral meeting ground, but there are confidentiality issues. You understand? But Franco was happy to come over here and share the good news with you.'

'What good news?' said Gina. She was finding it difficult to accept that the man hadn't switched sides. Up until now she'd seen him as her nemesis: Bertie's fixer. The one giving directions and chortling as he brushed flecks of dust from his lapels; encouraging Bertie to sabotage her show, spy on her visitors, b.u.g.g.e.r up her mortise lock. But according to David he'd done none of those things. He was on the side of law and order, incorruptible, whiter than white.

'We have been pursuing Boletti for some time,' said Casale. 'He has failed to pay not only his income tax, but his property taxes too.'

'Like half the rest of the country, you mean?'

He was unperturbed. 'In his case, there are considerable sums at stake.'

'He'll slither away from you. You'll never catch him.'

'Regrettably he has made too many enemies. And this has helped us acquire the evidence we need.'

Gina recalled Bertie's frequent meetings with 'the bank' whoever they were. He'd never given her details of names or functionaries, he'd kept everything vague. She wondered if blackmail were involved or if he'd simply become too greedy. Clearly she wouldn't have been the only person he'd p.i.s.sed off. He had it coming, she thought, with a delicious s.h.i.+ver of vengeance. 'I hope you're going to bankrupt him.'

'Not personally,' said Casale. 'Men like Boletti know how to protect their individual wealth, but the company is in trouble. The a.s.sets have been frozen.'

'What does that mean?' He had an attractive smile, she decided, open, simpatico. Why had she once thought it sinister? Good posture too, confident without being arrogant, though she could see he was br.i.m.m.i.n.g with satisfaction at the outcome of his investigations. And with reason. A warm flush of joy began to seep through her veins.