Chapter 21 – Death on the Rialto
Of the two people that morning who saw Celia leave Franz at the door of his hotel in Venice and walk back towards the vaporetto stop outside the train station, Isaiah Kjolo – an African street seller - was the more cheerful. He had just received a new delivery of handmade earrings, necklaces, bracelets and brooches from his family in Ghana and he knew he’d easily sell them over the next few days to the tourists clogging the city’s tiny streets and alleys. Whistling and with his sports bag over his shoulder, Isaiah walked past Celia, heading for his favourite spot in the Campo di Santa Maria Formosa.
Franz didn’t begin to relax until the night train for Munich had left Verona behind it on Saturday night and he’d checked all his passengers. He’d been roughly woken at midday by a bruised and badly scared Celia banging on his door. She’d insisted he come downstairs and give all his money to an African street seller, waiting outside the hotel because the receptionist had refused to allow him into the lobby. They’d spent the rest of the day barricaded in his room as she told him about the attack. He’d wanted to go to the police but Celia had refused.
Chapter 23 – Burglars
Chapter 24 – Fired
Chapter 27 - The smuggler
‘The early life of Christ. It looks like Mary as a young girl down here on the left.’
‘The frescoes in the church in Beram are still there.’
The Colonel dismissed her question with an airy wave of his hand. ‘Donations. The Croatian diaspora funded us.’
‘But we collected all this evidence together. And it was you that found the really crucial information in the photographs. You could explain it better. And I’d feel happier if you came along with me. Safer.’
‘You don’t understand. I said former employer. I was just fired because I refused to take part any more in this cover-up. You must tell me who she’s meeting.’