Italian Job 8 – Deadmen dont Talk

The day was not going well and to be honest had got worse with the discovery that Hawthorn had popped his clogs in my car.  I suppose it was just as well we found him sooner rather than later, because with the way airport security is these days, if they wont let you take your nail clippers and deodorant on a flight,  they are bound to get tetchy about dragging a dead bloke on as hand baggage.

I was taken to a police station and an interpreter turned up very quickly to assist proceedings.  To cut a long story short I expected having to explain the dead man to be more pressing than the alleged art theft.  The police did not see it that way.  Number one on their list was the injuries to the two detectives.  I apologised and explained my position.  When I saw the female officer I had an even stronger case.  She was a raven haired Italian beauty and nobody in their right mind would go round thumping her.  Now she was a raven haired Italian beauty with a bruised chin and a broken knee cap.  She was not amused.

Her colleague had bitten his lip and broken a tooth when he hit the floor and a nasty looking cut it was too.  His chin was bruised and he was none too happy either.  I did make the point that I was in the house lawfully and it was them that ambushed you with guns having asked them to show themselves one tends to think the worst of someone.   They talked of assault charges.

Then they turned to the “Great Art Theft”.  I was able to access the documentation and details supporting my story.  You know its funny, but punters assume that just because one is in my trade and “freelance” one does not keep records or papers.  They confuse the pages of a novel with it’s mystery and intrigue with real life. Jeez I even have an accountant and a lawyer.  The accountant is good the lawyer is a right creep and pretty shite.  I was able, without too  much trouble, to get a copy of the receipt from the courier company who delivered the keys from the client faxed over.  Eventually that is.  It would seem that she had been getting large portions of compost dumped in her bush from her hunky gardener, and were planning to set up a little  love nest together.

How sordid.

They had been stripping the Italian house slowly but surely over the last few months.  Rather ironically and somewhat unfortunately for them, Hubby was shagging some young piece of totty and had decided to stop over at the Roman love pad.  Funnily enough he noticed the missing paintings and other little treasures and alerted the police.  He of course did not know that it was his operatic wife who was the villain so told her what was going on.  This gave her the edge and being one step ahead of him realised things were about to get awkward and so set me up to pick up the other bits, just in case.

I have always thought of the Italians as being a little bit slack and that their Police would reflect their laid back attitude.  Don’t believe a word of it.  They were shit hot and had everything verified and double checked in mega quick time.  Fortunately having rubbed shoulders with the boys in blue on several occasions I was able to provide a fair bit of documentary evidence to support my story.  Even so I was impressed when barely 3 hours after being carted of to the Spola negozia (cop shop) the boss detective came into to tell me that Hawthorn had died from some form of poisoning.

Well I’ll be.

We went through the rigmarole of what we had eaten and where and all that stuff. then he started with questions about medication and the like.  I couldn’t help and suggested they ring the family.  They had already had Thames Valley police do that and apparently he was in good health.  Still, look on the bright side they now knew he was dead so that was one job off my list.

Then we got to the “Did you kill him?” questions.  These were just daft but they had to be asked I suppose, but for crying out loud.  Then my mobile started ringing.  It was my private phone not work one.  The detective nodded at me and I was allowed to answer the call.  It was SIL, Dawn.  I explained I was a little tucked up and that I was trying to explain to the police why I had a dead man in my car.  She wanted to know where I was and who was in charge and then said she would get a lawyer to me immediately and hung up.

About 15 minutes later we were interupted by a uniform bloke.  There was a quick conversation and the detective left for few about 5 minutes.  When he came back he didn’t look too happy.

“you people have powerful friends” He spat

“I do?” I asked

“Si, I have spoken with your lawyer and somebody will be here soon”

“My lawyer?” I repeated

“Si”

“Porky Adamson, I dont think so” I laughed

“Not Adamson, no, Leech Carlavoti Leech, he is a famous and important lawyer”

“He is?” I asked again like a right spaz.

“Si” he confirmed with bad taste. “His firm handles big cases and for ….” It was too much for him.

To cut a long story short this very flash brief turned up and within 30 minutes I was a free man but had to return to Italy pending further enquiries.  I have since learnt that this lawyer bloke is a Mafia lawyer and worked for a certain high profilel Italian politician who had been accused of alls sorts of naughtiness before he took the top Policitcal job.  It would seem that Dawn had contacts in Italy that I don’t know of and she had pulled the strings to get me out.

Of course that left the small matter of one dead Hawthorn, but that was not me problem.  I had been hired to find him and to try to get him home, the fact he croaked in Transit was not my fault.  That being said though I did wonder how he died.

I managed to get back to the airport without incident and eventually got a flight back to the UK.  I had only just got off the plane when the phone rang again it was Dawn she was at the airport and would meet me when I got through.  She sounded pretty weird.

I got the sneaking suspicion that my long day was not over.

4 Responses to “Italian Job 8 – Deadmen dont Talk”

  1. Andy says:

    Whoa! This is seriously conspiratorial! Your skills at dealing with Plod are clearly very high indeed – I suspect most of us would have been “helping with enquiries” for some considerable time!

    Your SIL’s words are very intriguing – looking forward to the next installment

    Oh, and Happy Christmas ..
    Andy

  2. Sally says:

    Happy Christmas Norm! And happy New Year too!

  3. dl says:

    And Happy Christmas and Happy New Year from me too.

    Yet another intriguing story. Can’t wait to read how the remaining loose ends are tied up.

    Best wishes,
    D.

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