The Affair (39 page)

‘Have you ever done that?’

‘Sure,’ Gianni grinned. ‘Why not?’ He slung his camera diagonally across his shoulders, then straddled his scooter and waved as he drove off.

Scott sat deep in thought as he stirred his espresso. He was convinced that Helen’s death must have had something to do with her drug habit. Maybe it had caused her to behave out of character and get into a fight. Perhaps she was distressed the night before she died because Diana had confronted her. But what was she doing in Torre Astura, presumably not far from the Anzio villa she had told him about? Poor Helen. He just hoped that if the Ghianciaminas had killed her, it had been quick and she hadn’t suffered.

He decided the time had come to go to the police and tell them what he knew. He jumped onto his Vespa and drove out to the police station to the east of the city. At reception, he said he had information about the death of the makeup girl from
Cleopatra
, and asked if he might speak to someone involved in the case. He was led into an interview room, where he had to wait about half an hour before an officer came in.

Scott explained that Helen had been a drug addict and that he had been trying to help her quit the habit.

‘You were a boyfriend of hers?’ the officer asked.

‘No, just a friend.’

Scott told him about the vitamin doctor and wrote down his name and address on a piece of paper torn from his journalist’s notepad. The officer took it without looking at it.

‘I saw her the night before she died and she was very upset because the treatment wasn’t working. I think she might have started using heroin again.’

‘Where did you see her?’ He had the officer’s interest now.

‘I went to her apartment at about seven in the evening.’

‘Ah,’ the officer exclaimed, pleased with this information. ‘So you were the American man seen there. Our witness said she was crying, yes?’

‘She was very upset,’ Scott agreed.

‘And you talked to her. Did you go in?’

‘No. We talked for a while on the doorstep and I asked her to come out for dinner with me but she didn’t want company so I ended up leaving her. I wish I hadn’t now.’

‘Did she tell you about her new boyfriend?’

‘No. I never saw her with a boyfriend and she never mentioned one.’
Only guys she liked who didn’t call her
, he remembered.

‘Uh-huh. Well, thank you for your help, Mr …’ He rose to his feet.

‘Morgan.’ Scott was surprised. ‘Don’t you want me to make a statement? You haven’t written down anything I’ve said.’

‘We’re confident we have the culprit in prison. There is evidence against her the public haven’t been told about. If Helen occasionally took
eroina
, it is not relevant to our case.’

‘I’m sure it’s relevant,’ Scott insisted. ‘The night I saw her she was upset because of drugs, not because of a boyfriend. Helen spoke about Diana a lot and always said she was her best friend.’

‘That’s why the argument became so bitter when they fell out.’ The officer was still on his feet and he seemed impatient. ‘Now if that’s all, Mr Morgan, I have a lot to do.’

Scott stood up reluctantly. ‘One last thing: can you tell me anything about the threatening letter sent to Elizabeth Taylor? Was it in English or Italian?’

‘Italian. Goodbye, Mr Morgan.’

Scott walked out of the station, pondering that. The letter could have been from a religious maniac, adopting the Vatican’s view that Elizabeth Taylor was a promiscuous tart. That was one theory. But he wondered whether she could have done anything to antagonise the Cosa Nostra in the city. It was a possibility.

Back at the office, he rang the
Cleopatra
press team to ask for a statement, but they played it down, saying that Elizabeth wasn’t remotely worried. She had been receiving crank letters since she first put her arms round Lassie at the age of twelve and in her view this was just another of the same. The heightened police presence would be maintained for the rest of her stay in Rome, though. The Italian police couldn’t ignore the world’s biggest star being threatened on their watch.

During her first night in prison, Diana lay gripped by anxiety. At ten o’clock a church bell rang then the lights were switched off, leaving her in fuzzy blackness with just a pale rectangle of moonlight by which to get her bearings. She dozed off briefly then woke feeling disorientated and had to feel her way along the wall to reach the covered bucket to urinate. There were distant clangings, a vague murmuring and at one stage she heard movements in the air overhead, as if she was sharing her cell with bats or some very large moths. Every noise caused a fresh wave of panic.

At seven a.m., the church bell rang again and the lights were abruptly switched on. Diana calmed herself by picking up one of the books from the package that Hilary had arranged to be delivered the previous evening. Tarn and Griffith’s
Hellenistic Civilisation
was a classic that she always used to enjoy rereading. The words were jumping around and she had no concentration, but the simple act of holding a book and turning the pages were familiar sensations that comforted her.

The door opened and a new guard appeared, holding a tray with a cup of milky coffee and some bread, as well as a letter. She discovered she was ravenous, and took a big gulp of coffee and a mouthful of bread before tearing open the envelope. The handwriting looked like Hilary’s, and a quick glance at the signature confirmed it.

My dear Diana, I simply can’t believe what has happened! We are all in a state of shock. No one believes a word of the case the police have concocted against you. It’s utterly ludicrous and we’ve told them so, as have Helen’s parents, who said to send you their warmest regards. Keep strong and know that we are doing all we can. Signor Esposito is one of the top lawyers in Rome and I’m sure he’ll get you out before long.

Today we start shooting the mausoleum scenes and Joe is not happy with the baskets the asps will be kept in. He was cursing the fact that you are not here to advise, so if you have any thoughts on baskets (or asps) and it will distract you from your plight, do send word.

Keep a stiff upper lip. We are all behind you and can’t wait until this hideous experience is over and you are back with us at Cinecittà again.

All my love, Hilary

Hilary didn’t mention how Diana should send word, but she decided to make some notes for them about the basket of asps, simply to occupy her thoughts. Few historians believed that Cleopatra had been killed by a snakebite, a story first recorded well after her death and not mentioned by contemporaries like Plutarch and Strabo. For a queen who liked to be in control of every detail, it seemed unlikely that she would rely on a wild animal smuggled in to her in a basket of figs. Asps were notoriously sluggish and it could have refused to bite her. Even if it did, she faced a slow, painful death. Much more likely she would have taken one of the many poisons known to the Egyptians, poisons with which she was well familiar, having used them many times on her enemies.

Alternatively, Diana had a theory that she could have been killed by Octavian himself, who then arranged it to look like suicide. A captive Cleopatra was a political problem he could do without, yet to have ordered her execution openly would have alienated her people. She was the mother of Caesar’s son, and Egyptians believed her to be the incarnation of the goddess Isis. He wouldn’t have wanted to risk being accused of killing a goddess, so to poison her and frame it as suicide made perfect sense.

She wrote all this, knowing she was wasting her time. Joe and Walter were undoubtedly set on the dramatic ending popularised by Shakespeare, whereby Cleopatra hoists the body of her dying lover into her mausoleum, then dispatches herself by holding an asp to her breast. She sketched a picture of the type of lidded basket in which the asp might have been smuggled, a basket normally used for carrying fruit. There were many images of such baskets in wall paintings.

She finished her note and glanced at her watch to find, to her horror, that it was still only nine-twenty in the morning. How on earth would she manage to fill the day?

A female guard came to escort her to the bathroom and Diana asked if she could arrange for her letter to be delivered. The guard suggested that if Diana had a visitor later, perhaps they could help. She seemed nice, this morning guard, and Diana kept her chatting for a while after she had finished her ablutions. She asked how long she had been in the prison service (two years) then told her about her job on the film, and her efforts to make everything historically accurate while they wanted drama and ostentation.

‘Have you met
La Taylor
?’ the guard asked, using the name given to her in the Italian press.

‘Yes, she’s a nice woman,’ Diana replied. ‘When I first met her, it was hard to stop staring because she is far more beautiful than anyone I’ve ever seen. But when I got to know her better I realised she’s only human: she drinks, she smokes, she swears a lot and she is actually very witty. She’s spoiled because of the lifestyle she leads but still friendly and considerate of those around her.’

‘She’s OK. I think my daughter is more beautiful,’ the guard told her, and when she pulled out a photograph to show a sweet-faced Italian girl, Diana agreed that she was gorgeous.

The guard had to get on with her duties, but every time she came back to Diana’s cell with food or a cup of coffee, she had more questions about the stars on the set and would linger for ten minutes or so. It passed the time.

Diana wondered if Elizabeth Taylor had heard of her arrest. Would she believe in Diana’s innocence and, if so, were there any strings she could pull? She must have many friends in high places.

And then her thoughts returned to the case against her, puzzling through every minor detail to try and make sense of it all. Who on earth was this witness who claimed to have seen Helen fighting with another woman? Why would Helen be fighting, unless she had been attacked and was fighting for her life? And why hadn’t the witness intervened to help her? Perhaps it had been Luigi she was struggling with and not another woman at all. Diana hoped that after the identification parade when the woman failed to identify her, someone would question her story more closely. Perhaps Signor Esposito would have a chance to do so.

She also hoped someone would interview Ernesto, who would confirm that she and Helen were hardly ‘love rivals’. Why would she be fighting Helen for him when it was she who had ended the relationship? She guessed he would be reluctant to testify because it didn’t show him in a very flattering light, but this was an emergency. Every time she thought of a new point, she wrote it down and soon the list was running to many pages.

And all the while she thought constantly about Helen, wondering what had really happened that night. She hoped the blow to the head had been quick and that her friend hadn’t known any fear or pain. It was unbearable to imagine her being so near yet not able to reach the boarding house. Diana could only think that Luigi must have intercepted her.

A bell rang and a guard brought lunch. It seemed that every stage of the day was punctuated by the ringing of the old monastery bell. Diana asked if she might make a phone call. Trevor was always in his office at that time, usually munching a fish-paste sandwich. She was led upstairs to a little office, where she told the operator the telephone number and sat waiting to be connected. There were interminable clicks, buzzes and screeches down the line before the phone began to ring in City University, London, almost a thousand miles away.

‘Dr Bailey’s office,’ came the voice of his secretary.

‘It’s Diana, calling from Rome. Could you put me through to Trevor, please?’

There was a hesitation or a delay on the line, she wasn’t sure which. ‘He’s not here, Diana. I don’t know where he is. He’s got a tutorial at three so I expect he’ll turn up later. Shall I give him a message?’

Her spirits sank. She was only allowed one phone call a day and this was it. How awful to miss him. ‘Could you please ask him to call Cinecittà and speak to Hilary Armitage? Tell him it’s urgent.’

She had to spell Cinecittà and give a note of the phone number, which Trevor would no doubt have left at home on the pad by the telephone in the hall.

‘Are you having fun out there?’ the secretary asked. ‘It’s horrid weather here.’

Diana ignored the question. ‘Please don’t forget to tell him. Thank you so much.’

At least he would know soon. He would think of something to do.

Back in her cell, she reread the letter from Hilary and wished she had used her phone call for the day to ring her instead. Would Signor Esposito tell her that Diana was allowed a visitor? Might she come by later? If she did, Diana could give her the notes about the basket and the asps. She felt a strong desire not to be sidelined from the film and decided to pass her time making notes on all the scenes still to be shot: Antony’s suicide and Cleopatra’s death in the mausoleum, the sea battle of Actium and the arrival of Cleopatra’s boat at Tarsus. It was one way of keeping busy – that, and talking to her friendly guard.