Spider

14

Montepulciano, Tuscany Ispettore Orsetta Portinari parked her car and, despite heels slightly too high and far too fashionable for most female detectives, walked elegantly up the steep cobbles and slabs of the Corso, the historic main street of Montepulciano.

Orsetta's friend Louisa had promised coffee, pictures of her sister's new baby and eighteen months' worth of unheard gossip. It seemed a good way to pass the time until the damned ex-FBI guy returned from wherever he was and called her. Madonna porca! His wife had been trouble; no wonder the man was spending time away from her. She must be hell to live with. Orsetta bought flowers and Tuscan cherries from a market stall and was within a hundred metres of her friend's home when her phone rang.

'Pronto,' she said, catching it just before the message system kicked in.

'Inspector Portinari?'

'S?.'

'This is Jack King. My wife says you called to see me.'

She stepped out of the sun into a shaded doorway. 'Aah, Signore King, grazie. Thank you for calling me. My boss, Massimo Albonetti, he is in Belgium at the moment, at a Europol meeting, and he sent me to see you -'

'Massimo?' interrupted Jack, sounding surprised. What does that old goat want?'

'Scusi?'

Jack laughed. 'Apologies. Mass and I go back some. We spent a lot of time at the Academy, back when you guys were first interested in VI CAP – the Violent Criminal Apprehension Program. You work for him?'

'si,' confirmed Orsetta, instantly picturing her six-teen-hours-a-day workaholic boss calling her into his dark office, rubbing his chubby bald head, chainsmoking and handing out files without even looking up. 'Yes, I work very hard for him.'

Jack imagined that was true. Massimo was a bulldog of a man. He was physically and mentally muscular, and when he got his teeth into something he didn't let go, even if he exhausted his teams in the process. 'Are you in CID, CSU, profiling or what?'

Orsetta looked down at her new shoes, dusty from the walk and in need of a loving shine. 'I work in a special department attached to our national Violent Crime Analysis Unit. Briefly, we are called behavioral analysts, but yes, I am what you call a psychological profiler.'

Jack understood. Police forces relabelled departments to suit the whim of whatever particular politician was pulling the purse strings at the time. 'I've heard worse names,' he said. 'But, Detective, as I'm sure you know, I'm not here on holiday. I've retired now, I help my wife – who, by the way, you seem to have upset – run a hotel out here. I'm no longer in the Job, so why the call?'

Orsetta mentally cursed the wife again. 'Massimo, I mean Direttore Albonetti, he said forget about that. Said you would never retire.'

Jack laughed again. 'He said that?'

'Well no, what he actually said was: "Jack King is no more retired than I am. Jack King cannot even spell the word retire."'

Jack fell silent. Massimo was right. He might no longer be putting in a twelve-hour day in New York or spending the night looking at crime-scene reports, but his brain was still clocking-on and doing the shifts. 'What does he want?'

A moped carrying two teenagers throttled its way uphill and drowned out the conversation. 'Scusi?' shouted Orsetta, covering one ear.

'Massimo, what does he want?'

'I have a file here,' explained Orsetta, shouting above the scooter. 'A murder of a young woman that he thinks you can help us with. Are you back at your hotel, Mr King? I can drive over and show you.'

Jack looked at his watch. It was five p.m. and he still had to get across Florence to catch the train back to Siena. 'No, I'm not. I won't be back in San Quirico until very late tonight. I'm in Florence, so I'm still a few hours away from you.'

Orsetta was keen not to let him slip through her fingers. 'Mr King, the case we want you to look at, it is west of Florence, not too far. If you stay there, I can come and meet you. Please book into a hotel for the night, my office will be happy to pay any costs you incur.'

Jack paused and wondered how he could break the news to Nancy. She would go ape. He decided to do it anyway. The prospect of being involved in an active criminal case was simply too hard to resist.

'Okay,' he said. 'You've got twenty-four hours of my time. I'll call you when I've booked in somewhere.'

Orsetta punched the air. 'Grazie,' she said.

As Jack said goodbye, she clicked the phone off and gave one rueful glance towards the house of the friend whom she hadn't seen for eighteen months, and now probably wouldn't see again for another year and a half. Still, Orsetta had got her man. As she walked carefully back down Montepulciano's steep and winding road, she spotted an old woman asleep on a hard-backed chair by an open front door, a red shawl around her neck. Orsetta gently placed the flowers and cherries at her feet and walked away. As she did so, she wondered whether Jack King looked anything near as sexy as he sounded.