Spider

46

San Quirico D'Orcia, Tuscany Terry McLeod sat on his own at a table for four, his breakfast plate piled high with ham, cheese, croissants, jam and butter. To one side of him was a large map entitled Terre di Siena, and on the other side was a copy of La Nazione. He didn't speak any Italian, but it was a quirk of his that, wherever he went, he always took a national newspaper home with him. He was a magpie, always had been, always would be, and he liked nothing better than international souvenirs.

Paullina, the waitress, arrived with his double cappuccino, something that she'd never been asked for before. She'd taken it to mean a single cappuccino with a double dose of coffee and the guest had laughed and said he was fine with that.

'Which visiting are you planning today?' she asked, noticing his map as she cleaned away a juice glass and cereal bowl. 'Maybe Siena or Pienza?'

'You know,' said McLeod, his mouth open as he chewed a croissant. 'I'm really not sure. I'm still a bit jet-lagged from all the travelling. Maybe I'll go here.' He jabbed a finger at a nearby town. 'What's it called?'

Paullina bent over the map and McLeod savoured the sensation of having her that close to him.

'Chianciano Terme,' she said, in a voice so sweet that he would have paid a premium-rate call charge just to listen to it.

'Or, you know what,' he added, 'I may just go to Montepulciano. Some folks at dinner last night said it was real nice.'

Paullina nodded. 'It is. It is very famous for its views and its churches. It is high up the hill, but worth the climb.'

'Sounds like my kind of place, I love your Italian churches and all that Da Vinci stuff,' said McLeod, wiping crumbs from his mouth. 'You just sold it to me, err… I'm sorry, what's your name?'

'Paullina,' she said. 'I am Paullina Caffagi.'

'Terry McLeod, very pleased to meet you.' He stuck out his hand and she shook it hesitantly. 'Been here a couple of days now and not seen you. Do you only do part-time?'

'Scusi, I don't understand.'

'Part-time – just mornings, just breakfasts?'

'Aaah yes, I only work at the breakfasts.'

'Then maybe, if you're free, you could come with me, act as my guide,' McLeod suggested hopefully.

'Oh no, I don't think I could do that,' said Paullina, wondering exactly what sights he was really interested in seeing.

'Why not? I'll pay you. Whatever you get paid to work breakfasts, I'll pay you to show me around Montepulciano.'

Paullina thought about it for a second. Although he was a bit of a jerk, he seemed harmless enough, and the extra money would really come in handy. 'Then all right, I will be pleased to be showing you Montepulciano.'

'Great!' said McLeod. 'When's good for you?'

'Tomorrow? I will be finished here and could go by twelve o'clock. Is that okay?'

'That's fine,' said McLeod. 'Could you fix a cab, a taxi for us? I'm not big on public transport.'

Paullina smiled. 'I will have one waiting.'

McLeod's interest in Paullina disappeared as soon as Nancy King entered the dining room. The older woman needed only to throw half a glance Paullina's way to send her scuttling off to resume her duties.

His luck was in. She had come into the restaurant to mix with the guests, ask them how they were enjoying their stay, that sort of thing. McLeod played his spoon across the froth on the cappuccino and listened to the small talk. She did all the tables; moving from an old couple at the back to some honeymooners, then a pair of walkers and finally himself.

'Good morning,' she said brightly. 'I'm Nancy King, my husband and I own La Casa Strada, and we hope you're enjoying your stay with us.'

'Terence T. McLeod,' he said, getting to his feet as he shook hands. 'And I'm having a terrific time, Mrs King. You sure have a great little hotel here and great staff.' He nodded towards Paullina as he sat back down.

'That's very kind of you to say so. Thank you, Mr McLeod,' she said. 'We certainly aim to please.'

'I hope you don't mind, but I've asked your waitress over there if she'd show me Montepulciano. I've offered to pay, of course. And if there's a surcharge or some kind of fee to you at the hotel, then that's also okay. I just want a good guide.'

The unusual request threw Nancy and she weighed it up for a moment before agreeing. 'No. No, I don't mind at all. We don't encourage the staff to mix with the guests out of the hotel, but providing this is purely a business arrangement, then I don't have any objections at all.'

'Great, thanks.'

Nancy smiled and started to walk away, to have a quiet word with Paullina while the matter was still fresh in her mind. 'Have a nice day, Mr McLeod.'

'And you,' said McLeod, adding, 'Oh, by the way, did you catch him?'

Nancy spun round. 'I'm sorry?'

'The man last night. Did you catch him? Everyone in the restaurant was talking about it. Some hooded guy running through the place.'

Nancy gathered her wits. 'No, no, we didn't. But let me reassure you, it wasn't anything serious. Nothing was taken and we've called the police. Please don't be worried by it. I can assure you everyone and everything here is perfectly safe.'

'I'm sure it is,' said McLeod. 'Was it your husband who chased him off? I think I read somewhere that he's an ex-cop, ex-fed or something?'

Nancy wished the conversation would end. The fright last night had left her irritable, and while she supposed that it was only natural that the guests would ask questions about what had happened, this guy was bugging her. 'No, Mr McLeod. It wasn't my husband. It was my chef and his kitchen boy. He was a lucky man. I hate to think what they'd have done with him if they'd caught him.'

'I guess battered burglar would have been on the menu?' quipped McLeod, feebly.

'And that would be just for starters,' said Nancy King.

She smiled again and this time did manage to walk away from his table. Terry McLeod was delighted. If former FBI man Jack King hadn't been here last night, on Independence Day of all days, and he wasn't here this morning to comfort his wife after her ordeal, then just where the hell was he?