On Tuesday morning, the 15th of May, two policemen appeared at Diana’s pensione just before nine as she sat with a cup of coffee waiting for the studio car to arrive. She’d grown to like Italian espresso, with its rich aroma, quite unlike the insipid Lyons coffee grounds that Trevor preferred back home. It certainly jolted you into the day, making you feel wide awake.
‘Signora Bailey? We need to ask you more questions. Please would you accompany us to the station?’
Diana was surprised. ‘I was there for hours on Saturday. Do I really have to come again today? Can’t you ask me your questions here?’
‘I’m afraid not. You must come with us.’
She sighed loudly. ‘Will someone give me a lift to Cinecittà when you finish? I have a meeting to attend.’
‘We’ll arrange something.’
Diana asked them to wait until the studio car arrived and she told the driver to get word to Hilary that she would be late, then she climbed into the police car and was driven back out to the Questura Polizia di Stato. At least she’d had breakfast this time.
She was led into the same airless room with one window set high in the wall, and the senior officer, the one who had questioned her on Saturday, walked in.
‘Thank you for coming,’ he began. ‘I have a number of matters to clear up so if you don’t mind we will go through them one by one.’ Diana nodded her agreement. ‘First of all, I am puzzled about the fight you had with Helen on the 9th of May. Several witnesses have described it to me and they say that Helen was crying and you were shouting at her. Is that a fair description?’
Who had he spoken to? Diana tried to remember who had been in the bar that day but could recall only blurred faces: one of the camera crew, and an assistant director whose name she didn’t know. ‘I only raised my voice once, towards the end. At the beginning we were chatting normally, then I got angry with her so I raised my voice and she began to cry. Rather than continue the argument, I went off to calm down. That’s all that happened.’
‘You were angry with her because she wanted to have an affair with a man you had just finished an affair with. Why would you object if you were no longer with him?’
God, this was complicated. ‘Because he was married. It wasn’t fair on his wife and children.’
‘But you were happy to go out with him yourself.’
‘I didn’t know he was married at the time. He lied to me. I broke up with him as soon as I found out.’ As she spoke, she realised they hadn’t picked that up before. No wonder the officer appeared to think badly of her.
‘It seems to me that you fell out because you both wanted the same man and you were fighting over him. Is that not the truth?’
It would have been laughable, if it hadn’t been so sad. She spoke slowly, trying to clear the matter up once and for all. ‘Helen didn’t know I’d been seeing Ernesto. We kept it secret at work. I finished the relationship when I found out he was married. He then tried to seduce Helen. Our row occurred because she wanted to go out with him and I told her not to, because he had a wife. Does that answer your questions?’
‘No, I have many more,’ he said, looking down at his notes. A younger policeman was jotting everything down studiously.
‘Tell me, Signora Bailey, how did you get that scratch on your cheek?’
Diana’s hand flew to the place where there was still a jagged pink line, about two inches long. She told him about the branch that scratched her face as she walked up from the beach. Why would he ask about that?
‘Tell me again why you think Helen might have announced to her friends at Cinecittà that she was coming to Torre Astura to find you. Is it not possible that she came to continue the fight with you over this man?’
‘No.’ Diana shook her head emphatically. ‘She wasn’t that kind of person. I don’t know why she came but I think she might have been scared of someone, or that she was very upset and wanted a friend to comfort her.’
‘But you say she didn’t find you. You didn’t see each other at all once she got there. Is that true?’
‘Yes, it’s true. I didn’t see her until the following morning when the soldier pulled her out of the water. I’ve got no idea what happened, but if she was scared of someone, maybe he followed her down there and they got into a fight, which ended with her being drowned. That’s all I can think of.’ In her mind, she saw an image of Helen thrashing around in the water while Luigi held her head under. She would have fought with all her strength to get free, but she was tiny and he was a strong man. She wouldn’t have stood a chance.
‘This is what you want me to type up and put in your statement. Are you sure?’ the officer asked, peering closely at her.
She racked her brains, trying to think of any detail that she’d missed. ‘The last time I saw her alive was when she was in the café with Luigi the night before. Has he told you anything about her state of mind at that meeting?’
He looked at her coldly. ‘The man you identified was nowhere near Cinecittà at that time. He has an alibi. We’ve checked and it’s true, so you were mistaken.’
She gasped. ‘He can’t have an alibi! I saw him with my own eyes. Did you know that he’s a drug dealer? He’s a bad person. I’m scared of him. I hoped you would still have him in custody.’
‘What makes you think that he’s a drug dealer? Do you take drugs, Signora Bailey?’ His tone was very stern now.
‘No, never! Ernesto told me. He said Helen was taking drugs and she bought them from Luigi. You should investigate that. I’m sure he was involved in Helen’s death. It was the way he looked at me on Saturday that convinced me …’
The officer stood up. ‘We’ll type your statement and I’ll bring it back and ask you to sign it in due course.’
Diana looked at her watch. It was almost half past ten so it looked as if she was going to miss the script meeting entirely. Why were the police being so slow to pick up the most obvious suspect? If Luigi were innocent, he wouldn’t have given them a false alibi. That was the action of a guilty man. Oh Christ, poor Helen. It was unbearable to imagine her trying to run away from him, thinking she’d be safe with Diana, and then being caught before finding her. She must have been petrified. She wondered what Luigi was chasing her for and assumed Helen owed him money.
It took over an hour for the statement to be typed, during which time she was left on her own in the room without so much as a glass of water. Surely in Britain the police were supposed to give you a cup of tea or something? At last the door opened and her statement was brought in and put in front of her. It was in Italian so she read it carefully, unsure about the nuances of some of the vocabulary choices, but it set out the bare facts as she had told them and she wanted to be allowed to leave, so she signed it.
She stood and picked up her handbag, ready to go, but the officer came back into the room, checked the signature on her statement, then said something that was so bewildering she had to ask him to repeat it.
‘Signora Diana Bailey, we are arresting you on suspicion of killing Helen Sharpe some time during the night of 10th to 11th May. You will be held in custody until the evidence can be presented to a judge, at which point you may be represented by a lawyer if you wish.’
She sat down hard and gripped the edge of the table. ‘No!’ she cried. ‘You’ve got it all wrong. I couldn’t have killed Helen. She was my friend. I couldn’t kill anyone. It’s ridiculous.’ She reached out to grab the statement, wondering if she had accidentally signed something incriminating, but the officer whisked it away.
‘These officers will take you into custody.’ Two men approached and one caught hold of her wrist.
‘Please listen to me. This is all a huge mistake. Perhaps we should have had a translator present. I don’t know how you could misunderstand me so badly.’ Surely there must be something she could say to make him see? But he turned and walked out of the door without another word. The man holding her wrist pulled her to her feet, at which point the other man produced a set of handcuffs.
‘No,’ she shouted. ‘Call the British Consul, please. This is all wrong.’
Her hands were yanked behind her back and the cuffs clicked shut. As they led her out of the back of the police station to a waiting car, she kept pleading with them. ‘Please call the British Embassy. Call Hilary Armitage at Cinecittà. Please tell someone I’m here.’
But they gave no sign that they would do anything of the sort. As far as she could tell, she was entirely on her own.