Death of a Dutchman by Magdalen Nabb

Author:Magdalen Nabb [Nabb, Magdalen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Mystery, (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
ISBN: 9781569474822
Publisher: Arrow
Published: 1982-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 6

The piazza was alive with people and sunshine, and the noise of the bellowing stallholders, gossiping women and barking dogs was overwhelming after the gloomy silence at the back of the old lady's flat. Only the dogs moved at speed, chasing each other round and round the fountain in the centre; everyone else was vociferous but heavy of limb in the overpowering heat of late morning. The Marshal's great eyes, protected behind the dark glasses, scanned; the crowd under the trees hopelessly, for he didn't even know—apart from a twenty-year-old photograph—what the woman looked like.

'And if I did,' he muttered to himself grumpily, 'I'd never find her in this lot. She's probably half a mile away by now, in any case . . .'

He stood there uncertainly near a clothes stall, wondering what to do next. A short-legged, black and white mongrel trotted rapidly up to him, sniffed his shoes, then shot back into the dark doorway from which he had emerged. He belonged, presumably, to the flower-seller who had his kiosk-sized shop right beside the entrance to Signora Giusti's building. The Marshal turned back and looked in there, taking off his glasses to accommodate the gloom of the small, windowless rectangle. The smell of fresh vegetables was immediately masked by the scent of fresh flowers. A man in an artisan's black smock was sitting with his back to the narrow doorway, making the little posies surrounded by a coloured paper frill, some of which were hanging outside in the shade of a bit of striped awning. Only the back of the man's pale plump neck was visible.

'Make yourself at home,' he said, without looking up.

'I'm in a bit of a hurry,' said the Marshal, disconcerted not so much by this sudden remark as by the man's odd position, turned away as he was from the sunshine and the passers-by. 'I wondered if you'd noticed a woman come out from next door a few moments ago.'

The man rested his posy in the lap of his black smock and turned his closed and sunken eye-sockets in the direction of the Marshal, without a word.

'I'm sorry, I didn't realize . . .'

'A man in your job,' chuckled the blind man, 'might have thought to wonder why I don't sit in my doorway looking out. You'll find a little stool behind you, Marshal, if you want to sit down.'

He picked up the posy again and chose more flowers for it from a low table before him, his pale fingers caressing their heads to distinguish them.

'I did notice,' the Marshal defended himself, 'but I hadn't time to work out why. You know me, it seems?'

'You pass near here every day, except Thursday, on your rounds. You're very heavy and you walk slowly-looking about you, I imagine—and naturally I hear you answer when people call out "Good morning, Marshal." What else do you want to know? About the woman who seems to be trying to avoid you?'

There was no doubt that he intended to

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