The Church of Lost Souls 25

We finished the beers quickly and on the walk back to Maria’s I put the glint in her eye down to the drink as we sang and laughed through the backstreets.

Arriving at a large arched metal gate Maria placed a key into a door set into the gate and went through. We walked down a cobbled alleyway and there at the back all on its own was a cottage in a courtyard. The main building to the front towered over the place.

Opening the front door, which was unlocked, Maria wafted us in.

‘Welcome to my humble abode,’ she said, throwing her bag down onto the floor and disappearing into another room.

That was the first time I’d been alone with Sofia and Paolo and it felt strange. It was only two days ago that we’d said goodbye and farewell and yet here we were, together again. But the atmosphere between us had changed.

It was an awkward moment and I think Sofia could see how confused I was so she went to see what Maria was doing. Paolo suggested we go into the garden.

We walked over to a door at the back of the house and went through to find a small garden about the length and width of the cottage itself. We walked onto the grass and up to a fence that guarded a sheer drop of some twenty yards, taking in the breathtaking view across Rome.

Just as the last of the sun shimmied out of sight Maria and Sofia came to join us with some beers.

‘Some view,’ I said, still gawping.

‘Yeah,’ said Maria. ‘Hey let’s have some music. Paolo, you’re the best at choosing music.’

Paolo got the message and skipped back to the house.

‘I’m sorry about what’s been going on for you, James,’ she said. ‘It must seem like a nightmare.’

Sofia nodded in agreement. ‘We’ll get to the bottom of it.’

‘I suppose we’ll have to now,’ I said.

Maria rubbed my shoulder. ‘The police are good with this sort of thing. They understand what goes on.’

‘What do you mean, what goes on?’ I asked tentatively.

Sofia interjected at once. ‘We don’t need to go there.’

‘Go where?’ I asked.

A whirr of electronic soundwaves rang in the air. Hawkwind’s Space Ritual was starting up.

‘Come on,’ I implored, ‘tell me what’s going on.’

Paolo came back out. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked, instantly aware of friction.

‘Tell him, Paolo,’ said Maria.

Paolo’s shoulders dropped as his beer hung in his hand at his side. ‘Well,’ he said, searching for the right words, ‘we don’t know why but we think someone’s trying to mess you around.’

‘Mess me around? I’m number one suspect in a murder investigation,’ I said.

Paolo sighed, hoping that one of the girls would take over.

‘James,’ said Sofia, ‘we think that Maria may have something to do with all this.’

‘The thought had crossed my mind,’ I said.

‘All this started when you went to The Church of Lost Souls looking for a job, right?’ she said. ‘The old woman gave you Maria’s note and ever since then there’s been trouble. Maria knows your Maria, James, and she’s bad news.’

I looked across to Maria, urging her to elaborate with my eyes.

‘Think about it,’ she said. ‘Why would anyone have their child studying the occult? I’ve met Giovanni and he’s a really screwed up kid.’

‘I did get the impression he was a little odd,’ I said, ‘but Maria’s always been open about that. Anyway, how do you know them?’

‘I’ve known Maria vaguely for about five years. She’s a party girl like me,’ she said.

‘So what?’ I said. ‘Anyway she gave me the job, didn’t she? And I’ve got a place to live.’

‘You didn’t want to go back there tonight,’ said Sofia.

‘No I didn’t, because of all this nonsense with the bones.’

‘And the two idiots?’

‘Look, James,’ said Paolo finally, ‘none of us know what’s going on but we’d like to find out and we want you to know we’re on your side.’

‘Jesus, when’s this going to just stop?’ I said, looking at the beer in my hand and wanting to throw it as far as I could.

‘We need to eat. I’m going to make us something, OK?’ said Maria, leaving us on the lawn.

‘I’m sure she knew the owner of the taverna,’ said Sofia.

‘How’s that?’ I asked.

‘They greeted like they knew each other.’

‘So she knows the owner. Why’s that important?’ I said.

‘The owner’s lied about the bones to the police so he must have something to do with all this, right?’ said Sofia. That was agreed. ‘And you asked Maria to come to the Wednesday.’

‘You don’t think Maria was behind the bones? That’s just absurd. She’s a woman, not some mad axe-wielding weirdo.’

After a short interval Sofia said ‘we hope not’ and Paolo suggested we leave it there and eat some food.

Maria only had to warm up her special chicken soup, a leftover dish from the carcass of a roast accompanied by baby potatoes, carrots, leek and wine, so we tucked in at the dining table in the living room. It tasted delicious with bread, which I dunked into the liquid to soak up the juice.

We drank a few more beers but I had an aching head, which was only made worse by the grinding notion that I was indeed being fitted up like a kipper.

I asked Maria for some painkillers and she gave me two aspirin in a glass of water, and upon their effect I crashed out on the sofa.

Someone must have moved me because when I woke up I was horizontal on the sofa with a sheet over me and a cushion for my head.

The sun hadn’t quite risen but as I got up in the halflight I looked outside and guessed it was fiveish.

As I found my way to the kitchen for a glass of water, flicking on the light as I entered, it occurred to me that now would be an excellent time to find out Maria’s surname.

If she was a Fontanelle, the name on Ms Allegri’s folder, I knew I was in trouble because that would mean she was prone to disappearing acts and known to the police, essentially a nutter. If she wasn’t a Fontanelle I could pretty much tick her off my list and pronounce her innocent.

At the sink I drew some water into a glass and tugged it down my dry throat. Filling another I satisfied my thirst.

Placing the glass down I looked around the room for letters or documents and saw some papers on a table. Lifting the first on the small pile, a bill of some sort, I could see clearly the name Frederic Bould. That could be her brother, I thought, replacing it and taking another from underneath.

This was addressed to signora Bould. That still didn’t qualify anything.

The next one confirmed it; Maria was definitely a Bould. The handwritten letter was from America to Maria Bould

It was a relief to know her not to be a Fontanelle. Joke shop Maria’s innocence was indisputable.

My headache had lifted and I felt wide awake so I went outside to look at the bristling purple darkness yearning for its light.

It was clear that I had to be very careful from now on. Should I try and stick it out with Maria or just get my stuff and stay at joke shop Maria’s? I couldn’t just go back to Blighty. The police had my passport.

I went back inside and found the time. It was six so I wrote a quick note to the gang, saying I’d see them later in the day and thanking Maria, and then left.

There was a little café just outside her gate so I went in and had a coffee and a pastry.

It was about a half-mile walk back to the flat. I didn’t feel the need to avoid the two idiots and sensed a departure from fear of them. Because I could now assume that they were just local hoodlums I’d pretty much scrubbed them off the list so that made three innocent people apart from Sofia and Paolo, which made five.

Five was a whole lot better than zero, which was where I was the day before.

I know it probably sounds barmy but even with all fingers pointing to Maria I still felt an incredible urge to have sex with her. It couldn’t be quashed. Just thinking about her was enough to wake my penis from even the deepest of sleeps. She was divine as a sexual being.

Almost home I noticed that the homeless guy wasn’t there. He’d been rumbled.

The baker was open so I grabbed a loaf and went upstairs with a balanced sense of trepidation, wondering if Maria might be there.

She wasn’t, so I put some water on for tea and made eggs on toast. I wrote my diary for a while and then went to bed to catch up on some zeds.

Maria turned up at midday and we had sex until two, then she said we were going for lunch at her parents’ house. We were out of the flat and in the car in no time.

With Maria, there never seemed to be any time for talking. It was either sex and or we were off somewhere.