Inspector Lynley 18 - Just One Evil Act

position as secretary. Her hope had long been that outliving Piero meant watching him be summarily dismissed from his job. That looked highly probable now.
    Salvatore evaluated all the information as he waited. He put it onto the scales in which he had been weighing his next move since the departure of Barbara Havers and her London neighbours. He had felt unaccountably sad to see the dishevelled British woman depart. He knew he should have remained furious at her, but he’d found that fury was not among the feelings he had. Instead, he’d felt compelled to take her part. So when the Upmans arrived at the
questura
later that morning, he’d dealt with them by not dealing with them at all. Their granddaughter was with her father, he told them through the translator. As far as he knew, they both were now gone from Italy. He could be of no help to the signore and the signora. He could not assist them in wresting Hadiyyah from the custody of her father. “
Mi dispiace e ciao
,” he said to them. If they cared to know more—especially in regards to their daughter Angelina—they might wish to speak to Aldo Greco, whose English was superb. Or, if they had no wish to learn the truth about Angelina’s death, then they, too, could return to London. There, and not here, they could take up the matter of who would have custody of little Hadiyyah.
    Signor Upman’s subsequent mouth-frothing had done little to move Salvatore. He left the man standing alongside his wife in Reception, where Salvatore had met them.
    Then had come the phone call from the
telegiornalista
who had supplied Barbara Havers and the cowboy from London with the film taken on the day that Lorenzo Mura had placed the tainted glass of wine in front of Taymullah Azhar. This man spoke of a story breaking this very morning in a London
giornale
, one that had come to him firsthand from the reporter whose work it was in a tabloid called
The Source
. It involved the careful plan to kidnap Hadiyyah, one that had her father as its engineer. Names, dates, exchanges of money, alibis created, individuals hired . . . Was Ispettore Lo Bianco going to pursue this? the
telegiornalista
enquired.
    Purtroppo, no
had been Salvatore’s reply. For surely the
telegiornalista
knew that the kidnapping case had been handed over to Nicodemo Triglia some weeks ago? So Salvatore had no place in any pursuit of this new information.
    Did he know, then, where Taymullah Azhar and his daughter had gone? For the
telegiornalista
had learned that Azhar had been released from the prison where he’d been held, released into the care of Salvatore Lo Bianco and the English detective who’d accompanied him. Barbara Havers was her name. Where had Ispettore Lo Bianco taken them?
    Here, of course, Salvatore had said. The
professore
had collected his passport and had departed, as was his right.
    Departed? For where?
    “
Non lo so
,” Salvatore had told him. For he had been most careful about this. Wherever they were going, he did not wish to know. Their fate was out of his hands now, and he intended to keep it that way.
    When at last Piero Fanucci returned from
pranzo
, he appeared to be fully recovered from whatever concerns he might have had during his conversation with the Casparia family’s team of
avvocati
. Salvatore gave idle thought to the idea that a half liter of wine probably had gone far to allay those concerns, but he nonetheless welcomed Piero’s expansive greeting and he followed the
magistrato
into his office.
    He was there to speak only about the death of Angelina Upman and the guilt of Lorenzo Mura. In the interview room at the
questura
, Mura had confessed brokenly to everything. With Daniele Bruno’s assistance and his willingness to testify at whatever trial would follow the events associated with his meeting with Mura at the Parco Fluviale, it seemed to Salvatore that the investigation was now complete. Mura did not intend his woman to die, he explained to the
magistrato
. He did not intend her even to drink the wine that contained the bacteria. He’d meant it for the Pakistani man who’d come to assist in the search for their child. He had not known that, as a Muslim, Taymullah Azhar did not drink wine.
    Piero said at the conclusion of Salvatore’s remarks, “It is all circumstantial, what you give to me, no?”
    It was, of course. But the circumstances were damning, Salvatore said. “Still, I leave it to you and to your wisdom,
Magistrato
, to decide how you wish