BooksBarbecue
Back The House by the Sea Save as PDF
Chapters (71)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. 56
  59. 57
  60. 58
  61. 59
  62. 60
  63. 61
  64. 62
  65. 63
  66. 64
  67. 65
  68. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  69. MORE FROM LOUISE DOUGLAS
  70. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  71. ABOUT BOLDWOOD BOOKS

‘They’re not going to look for fingerprints are they, after all this time?’ I asked.

He reached for the bottle and I passed it back to him. ‘I doubt it. I think it’s more to check we’re not plotting an insurance scam. I found out something interesting though.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘Vito Barsi has previous convictions for burglary.’

‘Who told you?’

‘Fredi’s sister works at the commissariato. We went for coffee. Apparently he’s been up before the court several times. He used to scout out the homes of wealthy people who called him in to do odd jobs and then return later to steal whatever he could get his hands on.’

Joe raised the water bottle to his lips and drank, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes.

I didn’t argue with him, but I knew Vito Barsi hadn’t stolen our painting. If he had, he wouldn’t still be driving round in a clapped-out old truck; he wouldn’t be unblocking drains for a living; and poor Francesco wouldn’t be working all the hours God sent serving pizza to the hungry people of Porta Sarina. If Vito Barsi had come into a great deal of money, I was 100 per cent certain, he would be out spending it as if it was water.

37

I was cooking pasta when I heard the rapping at the kitchen window behind me. It was Francesco. My heart gave a leap of pleasure. I propped the spoon against the rim of the pan and opened the door wide.

‘Francesco, how good to see you! Is Vito with you?’

‘No, I cycled.’ He indicated an old bike leant against the villa wall, with a plastic sign that said: ‘Pizzeria Vito’ attached to its parcel rack. He was wearing a backpack hooked over his shoulders. ‘Mama told me Joe needs help with his car.’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘he needs all the help he can get.’

Francesco swapped his weight from foot to foot and tugged at an earlobe. ‘I might be some use then. I know a lot about cars.’

‘Then, Francesco, you’re exactly who we need. You couldn’t have come at a better time.’ Behind me, the spoon rattled against the pan. ‘Are you hungry?’

‘A little.’

‘Good. Why don’t you go outside and find Joe, and after lunch, the two of you can get to work.’

After they’d eaten, Francesco and Joe disappeared off into the old stables.