Inspector Lynley 18 - Just One Evil Act

toddlers struggling to get out of his pushchair as the poor child’s mother continued her chat on her mobile phone. The other woman had ended
her
conversation, but she’d promptly begun texting and her child went ignored. Salvatore sighed and silently cursed modern life.
    Birgit flicked ash from her cigarette, flipped the page, continued reading, made a few
hmphs
, gave a few nods, and looked up at him. “This is all from a man called Dwayne Doughty,” she said, inclining her head at the document, “sent to you as directed by an officer of New Scotland Yard. This Doughty gives you an account of hiring Michelangelo Di Massimo to assist in the finding of a London woman who disappeared with her daughter. He tracked them himself to Pisa airport by means of their ticket purchases and through information provided by the border agents in England. He asked Michelangelo Di Massimo to take it from there and Michelangelo made the attempt. He describes the various methods this Michelangelo used and, as proof of this, he sends you also copies of his bills for services and costs incurred. He says that having checked with trains, with taxis, with private car companies, and with the buses—both touring buses and city buses—Signor Di Massimo claimed to have found no trace of the woman beyond the airport. All of the car hire agencies, too, showed no trace of her having picked up a hire car, either at the airport or in Pisa. What’s known is that she landed at Galileo with her daughter and then disappeared. According to Signor Doughty, his conclusion—Michelangelo Di Massimo’s—was that the woman and girl had been fetched by a private party and taken somewhere. This is what he told the London detective in his reports and the London detective tells
you
that he relayed this information to the child’s father, along with Signor Di Massimo’s name and details. He says it is his belief that all arrangements from that point were made between these two men privately as he had nothing more to do with the matter.”
    Salvatore speculated upon the information. That it contradicted what Di Massimo was telling the police came as no surprise to him. In a situation like this, it was understandable that the individuals under suspicion would soon enough begin pointing fingers at each other.
    Birgit said, “He also includes records that he has managed to come by, showing amounts of money leaving the bank account of”—she fingered through the papers to find what she was looking for—“Taymullah Azhar and he speculates that they
might
have entered the account of Signor Di Massimo once his own business with Signor Azhar was concluded. He encourages you to seek this information about Signor Di Massimo’s bank yourself. He points out that while he has no way of knowing what this exchange of money was for, it bears looking into since it suggests that long after his own business with Signor Di Massimo was concluded, Signor Azhar hired him on his own to do something. It was probably to kidnap his daughter, eh?, although he doesn’t say that directly in the report. He says that his own business with Di Massimo ended last December within a few weeks of hiring, and he assures you that all the documents he’s attaching will support that fact. As will, he says, Di Massimo’s bank records if you are able to obtain them.” She handed the report and its appended documents to Salvatore, who returned them to the envelope. She said, “Interesting that he mentions them twice, those banking records of Di Massimo, no? Have you looked at his bank records, Salvatore? You can do that, can’t you?”
    He crossed his arms and leaned back against the bench, stretching his legs with a wince. He said, “
Certo
. And Di Massimo was paid by this man as he says. But he tells a different story altogether, as you would expect.”
    “But if the bank records that this London man sends and the telephone records and all his invoices and receipts—”
    “Untrustworthy as a
puttana
’s claim of love,
cara
. There are too many ways to manipulate information, and the London man believes I do not know this. I suspect that this man would like to engage me in chasing down all of his nonsense”—Salvatore nodded at the report between them—“because that will keep me busy and away from the truth and because, to him, I’m an Italian fool who drinks too much wine and does not know when someone is leading me by my nose like an ass.”
    “You’re talking