Beyond The Island Page 22

  ‘I think a glass of weak brandy might be best.’ Fabio loaded the tray and they both returned to the sitting room.

  Tom’s face crinkled with pleasure as he viewed the meal. ‘Thank you both for all you’re doing for me ...’ his voice broke. ‘One does feel a bit lost in a situation like this.’

  ‘If Joanne doesn’t mind waiting I think you should you eat first and talk afterwards,’ Fabio suggested as Tom started to tell Joanne his tale.

  ‘Oh do eat first, Tom.’ Joanne agreed, despite her keenness to know what happened.

  Fabio made more coffee and then sat quietly opposite Joanne staring into the fire while Tom devoured his meal.

  Tom’s words broke the silence. ‘Thank you Joanne, that was a life saver; really delicious.’ He wiped his mouth on the napkin and nodded contentedly before pushing the rug off his feet, ready to get up with his empty plate. ‘I’m fine now,’ he insisted as

  Joanne darted forward and took the plate.

  ‘Thanks, I’ll take it to the kitchen Tom.’ Thoughts of Fabio swelled her mind and she hoped by keeping busy, to ease the tumult. Somehow her voice was steady as she called back, ‘Do hope you’re feeling better Tom? Wait, will you? I want to hear everything.’

  ‘It’s so good to be here,’ Tom raised his voice. ‘I believed I’d be stuck on that cold mountain all night.’

  Tom waited for Joanne to come and sit down and before giving the details. She saw colour had returned to his face.

  ‘I left the bakery at the usual time I leave to work at Cafe Bertoldo. I was looking forward to meeting you both during my break.’ He frowned. ‘It happened so fast. I caught a shadow out of the corner of my eye and didn’t have time to react. Whoever it was must have been hiding in a dark lane. First thing I knew he’d grabbed my folder and shoved me into the back of a van.’ He repeated, ‘I was in a daze, no time think.’ Tom shook his head crossly. ‘Strange thing though, he was definitely not after money or my phone.’ His puzzled expression changed to one of anger. ‘Who the devil would want my notes I can’t imagine. I haven’t talked about them to anyone.’

  ‘Inside the van,’ Joanne butted in, ‘couldn’t you phone for help?’

  ‘No signal. The blighter’s van must be sound proofed.’ Tom shook his head. ‘Weird isn’t it? We must have travelled for hours. At first I could make out the faint noise of traffic and then there was nothing. I sat balanced on a coil of rope – it stank to high heaven; I could feel what I think were crab pots. Every time the van lurched I lost balance. Then it drove over a rock or something and my head got a terrific bash on the side of the van; knocked me out for a while. Next thing I knew the vehicle had stopped and remained stationary for ages. I tried to guess what the devil was going on. Then the doors opened and I was dragged out and dumped on a mountain track and the van roared away. It was dark but a few minutes later I found my folder on the ground.’ He shook his head. ‘Boy! Was it cold up there!’

  ‘What about your research? Was there enough light in Fabio’s car to see if it was okay?’

  ‘Fabio had a torch, so I scanned them but apart from being out of order nothing seems missing. I’ll have a closer look if you don’t mind. Thank the Lord for you good friends.’

  ‘Here you are.’ Fabio passed Tom’s folder to him. ‘I’ll make us more coffee.’

  ‘Sounds terrifying.’ Joanne exclaimed. ‘No one about? What about houses, a farm?’

  Tom shook his head as he flicked through the pages of his report. ‘No sign of habitation but at least I could get a signal on my phone. Don’t know what would have happened if Fabio hadn’t rescued me.’ He whistled. ‘What the devil did that fellow hope to find?

  ‘A horrible experience Tom. Why ever would someone attack you? Can’t you think of anyone at all?’

  Joanne’s heart missed a beat as a picture of her two suitcases flew into her head.

  ‘You know Tom I had something strange happen when I first arrived at Naples.’

  Tom listened as Joanne told him briefly about her missing luggage and how it was recovered. She’d always felt there was something odd about finding what she’d packed for certain in one case, turning up in the other. ‘I’m more and more convinced my luggage was tampered with,’ she said with a frown. ‘Can’t think why.’ All the while something niggled at the back of her head, something connected with …

  Tom remained silent for a while and then as if thinking aloud said, ‘The Mafia use couriers to send items from one place to another. It could be...’

  Joanne gave a start. It came to her suddenly that Renzo had been determined to organise her luggage sent ahead from Rome to Naples. But how did that link up – unless...she trailed off. ‘Tom, what would someone need to send from Rome to Naples to get there in a hurry? I mean hypothetically – you know, Renzo?’

  Tom gave her a keen look. ‘Not drugs, I can’t think that would be Renzo’s game; and cash? No, cash is easy to transfer between bank accounts. From what you say it would have to be something small like for instance, keys.’

  Joanne found she’d been holding her breath as things slowly evolved in her mind. ‘Somehow that seems to figure, Tom. You’ve got a good nose for detection!’ She’d recalled Renzo’s comment about having special locks on his premises in Naples. What if he’d had to get the keys quickly passed from his possession in Rome to a person in Naples? What if they needed the building for something?’ The idea was only vaguely formed and vanished as her thoughts centred on Tom’s kidnap.

  Fabio returned with mugs of hot coffee and passed them around.

  She turned to Fabio. ‘Have you ever heard of something like this mugging on the Island?’

  ‘I never have. There’s been the odd snatched wallet but it’s very rare. So far as local people, everyone knows everyone else’s affairs. This kidnapping is serious.’ His next words came slowly. ‘By rights the police should be notified but,’ he gave them both a wry smile, ‘they’d never leave you alone; want to delve into reasons for what you are doing and maybe find something illegal. To put it bluntly, if you agree Tom, I think it best we carry out our own search for this person.’

  ‘How about the people at the bakery? They’ll be worried,’ Joanne said.

  ‘I phoned Fabio’s number first, and then phoned the Conticelli’s to let them know I was with friends. They are good folk; didn’t want to involve them in details.’

  ‘We must try to find out who it was did this to you,’ Fabio brooded. ‘You’ve still not come up with any possibility Tom? I think we’ll ask around that district in the morning – quietly of course. Someone must know of a fellow with a van like that.’

  ‘I can’t think of anyone. I don’t know many people, only locals who eat at the café.’ Tom’s mouth was a hard, firm line. ‘I’d like the chance to kick him up...’ he didn’t finish the sentence. ‘My notes can’t mean much to anyone else. He must have thought the folder held something else.’

  Joanne sat back and closed her eyes. Important facts hovered at the back of her mind but failed to materialise as she watched Fabio lean over to stoke up the fire. He reached for some logs and the iron doors of the stove screeched as he opened them and thrust logs on top of the embers. For a few moments her attention was taken by strange patterns made by the embers as they flared. And then she recalled Marco’s van! Could Marco have kidnapped Tom? Wary of setting off false alarms, Joanne tried to tell herself she’d drunk too much alcohol and was jumping to conclusions besides being unwilling to implicate someone without proof. However, she couldn’t stop bursting out with – ‘I saw Marco – you know? - The fisherman who maintains Renzo’s yacht. I saw him throw a coil of rope in the back of his white van!’

  Both men’s faces turned towards Joanne.

  Fabio’s face screwed up as if considering her words. ‘I think we could start our investigation with this possible lead,’ he said slowly. ‘It might be a false one but it’s something to follow. ‘I think we should all try to get some sleep. First thing in the morning
…’

  Despite the anticipation Joanne’s eyes half closed in sleep as a great wave of weariness dropped like a curtain over her brain. Worn out by the extraordinary events, everything blanked out.

  ‘Joanne’s fallen asleep’. Fabio whispered to Tom.

  They remained silent as Tom went carefully through his notes. Finally he looked up. ‘Apart from some pages out of order it all seems fine,’ he mouthed. ‘Either he recorded something or didn’t find what he expected.’

  ‘Well, we can’t just ignore what’s happened.’ Fabio whispered.’ Tomorrow we’ll make tracks to eliminate Marco and then….’ Fabio glanced at the clock and suddenly its loud metallic strike echoed one o’clock in the morning. ‘Time to turn in. It’ll be warmer by the stove, Tom. I’ll make up a bed for you on that large sofa. Come, I’ll show you where to find the facilities.’

  Chapter 16

  Joanne awoke with a jolt as sunlight streamed over her face. It took a few seconds to grasp that it was morning and where she was. Her pulse raced as she stared about with no recollection of how she got into this bed in a strange room before realization surged in. Fabio’s place! She must have dropped off to sleep and Fabio carried her in here to bed. Blood fired her cheeks and she looked down, relieved to see she still wore her clothes from yesterday. The only things missing were her shoes which now sat tidily on the floor.

  As she swung her legs out of bed, all the happenings of the previous night fought for space until the loud noise of cackling hens had her tread to the window. Looking down she smiled to see Fabio and Tom leaping about as they tried to shoo errant hens off flower beds. It was such an amusing scene she laughed aloud and opening the window called out,

  ‘Never trust females! They’ve got a will of their own! I’m coming down.’

  She pulled on her shoes then ran along a corridor into a bathroom, thankful to see a shower. Stripping off her clothes she hopped in, relishing the feel of warm water. A memory of her shower back in that Naples hotel flashed through her head as she swiftly dressed again in the same clothes she’d worn before. With wet hair clinging to her head she dashed down the stairs and ran out into the back yard to the men.

  *** *

  Fabio had arranged to take Tom back to the bakery and return to fetch Joanne and go in search of Marco.

  Joanne turned to Fabio with a worried look. ‘Aren’t we taking up too much of your time?’

  ‘No problem, but thank you my love for the thought. I’ll get down to finishing that painting later on. It’s more important to discover who and what this is all about, I think. Tom has to go into work to make up time for the shift he missed.’

  ‘I’d really like to go back to the hotel and change out of these clothes first.’ Joanne’s nose wrinkled as she looked down at the clothes she’d slept in.

  ‘Of course. Forgive me for not noticing; you are looking so fresh and rested this morning. Have a coffee here first won’t you before we leave? The pot’s keeping warm on the stove.’

  Sometime later, as Joanne waited for Fabio to return from taking Tom to his lodgings, an idea began to take shape. Although she was committed to spend her last day on the Island sailing with Renzo, she would insist she must to return to her hotel early to get a good night’s sleep, pleading work the following day. That was the only way she might see Fabio before she finally left the island.

  ***

  Back in her hotel room, Joanne threw off her crumpled clothes and took another quick shower. She sprayed herself with cologne and then dressed in a pair of light cotton trousers and loose shirt, brushed her short dark hair until it shone and was soon ready to leave. As a quick after thought, she ran back for her camera.

  ‘Ready to do some sleuthing?’ Fabio opened the car door and Joanne slid onto the passenger seat. ‘I thought we’d look around Tom’s neighbourhood for that van although there’s not much chance of identifying it from what Tom told us.’ He sighed. ‘We’ve very little to go on except it held fishing gear but there are dozens of fishermen in that area.’

  Joanne’s thoughts went off at a tangent. ‘How were things at the bakery? They must have been worried to hear what happened to Tom.’

  ‘La Signora was serving behind her counter. You should have seen her beaming smile when she saw Tom. He was careful not to alarm her; reassured her he was well and made up an excuse about what happened. I didn’t wait but came straight back here. I’ve taken to Tom by the way. Nice young man.’ Fabio turned and gave her a wink. ‘Hope I haven’t a serious rival?’

  Joanne grinned. ‘Well, he’s definitely in the running,’ she joked. ‘Those hens took more notice of him than of you!’

  Fabio’s chuckle shook his chest. ‘I can see I’ll have to press my suit harder then.’

  He gave her a quizzical glance and Joanne hardly dared to think what he meant.

  ‘I have a sort of idea,’ she ventured as they drove towards Porto d’Ischia. ‘I’d like to question la Signora Conticelli about something - but in a roundabout way. Are you familiar with that expression Fabio?’

  They’d reached the outskirts of Porto d’Ischia and Fabio focused on negotiating the traffic. But he hadn’t ignored her question. ‘Yes, I think that means ‘going round the bush’ eh? Or maybe the word is - circumspect?’

  It was Joanne’s turn to laugh. ‘Dear Fabio, your knowledge of English beats my Italian!’

  ‘Then we’ll go and buy some of Signora Conticelli’s delicious bread and you can put your Italian to the test!’

  ***

  ‘Tom was right - it smells fantastic.’ Joanne stood gazing at the display of loaves as though trying to make a choice as she waited with Fabio for some customers to leave the bakery. Some time elapsed while la Signora carried on a lively conversation with a young mother about a forthcoming christening and whether the baby would wear the gown handed down through the generations and who would be the Godparents. So far as Joanne was concerned, Signora Conticelli’s talkative nature was to their advantage.

  At last the shop was empty. Joanne approached the counter with two ciabatta. ‘Buongiorno Signora, Come, per favore?’

  ‘Buongiorno, Signorina. Un’euro cinquanta.’ Signora Conticelli had recognised them from the previous night and they listened to her delight at Tom’s safe return, and then they praised the quality of the bread. Joanne made small talk about her pleasure in the Island before eventually thinking it time to phrase her question. ‘I am looking for some fresh fish,’ she improvised. ‘My friend,’ she indicated Fabio, who inclined his head to the baker’s wife. ‘My friend is entertaining special guests. An acquaintance mentioned a young fisherman from hereabouts who sells a little of his catch before it goes to the fish market?’

  Signora Conticelli barely hesitated. ‘That would be Marco Gottardi!’ she exclaimed, clearly pleased to be the possessor of information.

  ‘Ah, is he a regular customer?’

  ‘Why yes! He buys bread for his mother. Poor lady, she lies all day in her bed...’

  There followed a tale of the poor lady’s indisposition and Joanne’s sympathetic responses whilst all the time she waited, desperate to find out anything that would point to Marco Gottardi having kidnapped Tom. Joanne knew Fabio was listening intently while seeming to be disinterested. Suddenly Joanne had an idea. ‘Is this Marco perhaps a friend of Tom?’

  Signora Conticelli appeared reluctant to admit her lack of knowledge. Her reply was slow. ‘I don’t know, Signorina.’ She shook her head. ‘Marco did ask what my lodger was doing here. I told him he worked a few hours in Bertoldo’s and was busy with some kind of ‘investigazione.’’

  Joanne’s pulse raced. In describing Tom’s work la Signora used the Italian word which translates as ‘Study’ and most importantly it’s the same word for ‘Investigation’. If Marco believed Tom to be a kind of investigator surely that might be a clue? But why? Thoughts jumbled in Joanne’s head as she tried to keep calm. Fabio had clearly got the message as he’d moved nearer. This fact did not resolve
the question why any investigation of Tom’s should concern Marco, yet Joanne was sure there must be a link.

  She forced a look of vague interest and with a wide smile exclaimed, ‘You are so helpful, kind Signora. Where should I find this Marco in order to buy the fish?’

  ‘Usually he’s down in that bar in Strada San Biagio. His poor wife is left with little money. It’s said he ‘drinks like his fish’ during the day and then he’s off catching them at night!’ Her cackle of laughter required Joanne and Fabio to laugh with her. And then Signora Conticelli’s expression hardened.

  ‘That bar is not a nice place for young ladies.’ It was said with a frown.

  ‘I shall approach the young man then.’ Fabio came forward and gave Signora Conticelli a charming smile, ‘and I shall come here to buy my bread in future and recommend you to all my friends.’

  Several people had entered the shop so Joanne and Fabio quickly left and regained the street, now crowded with women about their household shopping.

  ‘Can’t you picture her excitement,’ Joanne said with a giggle. ‘She’ll find plenty to gossip about with two strangers asking for fish!’

  Fabio chuckled as he took Joanne’s arm. ‘So’ he said, labouring the word to show he’d not missed anything. ‘Hmm, that was a remarkable deduction of yours. I’m dumbfounded. How come you guessed that fish and Marco connection? You must tell me what clever means led to this line of inquiry!’ He hurried her back to his car. ‘We’d better be quick and act before word gets back to Marco.’ He spoke urgently. ‘Signora Conticelli will be waiting to report this news of us and I imagine Marco’s no fool. Won’t take him long to suspect we’re on to him.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m certainly not going to risk him looking for you.’ He’d opened the passenger door but Joanne hesitated to get in before saying quietly.