Toni’s flat was on the fourth floor of a fairly old block in a quiet quarter not far off the Posillipo road. While Donna stayed with the car they climbed the stairs without exciting any interest despite the lateness of the hour. They stopped outside an anonymous door.
It still struck Ben as incongruous that his friend, who had always appeared to be so close to the rest of the family, should have kept a place like this very near to his home. He understood that there must have been some special purpose in it. In fact Ben was beginning to wonder whether his friend had been living some kind of double life about which he knew nothing.
Francesca instructed him to reach up to the centre of the moulded architrave above the doorway. Sure enough the key was there. ‘Not very original,’ thought Ben. Anyone who wanted to gain admission wouldn’t have had to search very hard to find it. It was lucky that no one knew about Toni’s little bolt-hole.
Ben turned the key in the lock and swung the door open. He reached inside, felt for the light-switch and turned it on. What he saw made him gasp. The flat was little more than a large bed-sitting room with separate kitchen and bathroom. But the whole place was a complete and utter shambles. Obviously someone else had known about Toni’s secret hideaway and had very thoroughly broken the place up.
The furniture had been tumbled over and smashed. Any contents of cupboards and drawers had been pulled out of their containers and tossed onto the floor. The mattress of the bed which leaned against one wall had been slashed open with great long cuts down the centre and around the seams. There was a large built-in wardrobe on one wall which stood open. All the clothes which it had contained had been ripped from their hangers and now formed a heap, half in the bottom of the cupboard and half on the floor. Even Toni’s climbing gear, which must have been stacked in the bottom of the wardrobe, had been pulled out and tossed to one side. It was clear that someone had searched the place very thoroughly. It reminded Ben uncomfortably of his own office on the night when they had found Toni’s body. Fortunately there was no gruesome figure on the floor this time.
Francesca took one look through the doorway at the devastation and burst into tears. “Oh, what will Toni say,” she exclaimed. “What terrible people thieves are.”
Ben kept grimly silent. He didn’t think this comprehensive damage was the work of mere thieves. For a start there was no sign of forced entry. The door was undamaged and the glass in the window wasn’t broken. This needed thinking about. He took Francesca’s arm, shepherded her into the room and closed the door behind them.
“It won’t be any good us trying to stay here. Somebody knows about this flat already. Just find your clothes and we’ll go.”
She looked at him uncertainly. He noticed that the young lady, who had looked so assured and self-confident a few minutes ago, had suddenly had the wind taken out of her sails. She seemed again like a defenceless little girl. He couldn’t help admitting that he liked her better this way. He patted her on the shoulder.
“Come on. Let’s get on with it.”
She nodded and got to work. While she searched through the jumble in the bottom of the wardrobe, Ben went into the kitchen. Here there was a similar scene. All the cupboard doors were open. Crockery had been carelessly thrown onto the floor and now lay in smashed heaps. The drawers had been pulled out and upturned. Even the fridge was standing with the door wide open and the compressor still running furiously. Ben lifted out a carton of milk and sniffed it cautiously. The smell of rancid cheese assailed his nostrils. The refrigerator had obviously been open for several days.
Ben replaced the carton and pushed the door shut with his elbow. Then he went to the bathroom. Here at least there wasn’t the same mess. There had been no cupboard to empty onto the floor. One look round its clinical tiled walls would have told the searchers that there was nothing worth wasting their time on. The only reminder of Toni was a container of shaving soap with a fresh razor lying beside it. On a sudden impulse, Ben put them in his jacket pocket. They might come in useful later before he could get to the shops to re-equip himself.
He went back into the main room. Francesca had now pulled on a grey roll-neck sweater and jeans. She had found a pair of light canvas shoes for her feet. Although she was still pale, she seemed to have recovered her composure.
“Come on,” said Ben. “There’s no point in staying here. I expect Donna can arrange a room for you at the hotel. She seems to be able to organize anything.”
Francesca didn’t reply, but she followed him out of the flat. Ben locked the door and pocketed the key. He had no intention of letting anyone else get in to the place by the easy route. Then he took the girl’s elbow and shepherded her down the stairs.