with me please,’ he said, leading the way to his private office.
The room was unremarkable. One wall was lined with shelves filled with books and files. A map of Rome was pinned to the opposite wall, marked with small red flags.
‘Please,’ he said, ‘do sit down.’ He pointed to a leather chair while he remained standing, leaning casually against his desk. ‘You are an actress?’ he began.
‘I am. Well, at least I was. There is less work now, unfortunately – but once the war is over, I hope to return to it.’ Isabella pulled her fur coat tightly around her shoulders, comforted by its softness.
‘You are a friend of many interesting people,’ he observed.
‘I have many friends from all walks of life, yes.’
‘Influential people,’ he continued.
‘I wouldn’t necessarily describe them in that way. I suppose some of them are,’ she admitted.
‘You know that Rome is full of people working against the government?’ he asked.
‘No, no, I didn’t know that. I’m not involved with anything like that.’
‘I’m talking about partisans,’ he persevered. ‘Surely you have heard of the Resistance.’
‘I’ve heard of it, yes, but what has that to do with me?’
He picked up a folder from his desk and flicked through it. ‘You are a friend of a well-known communist, I think.’
‘Am I?’ she asked innocently.
‘Do not play games with me, signorina. I am not a big fan of fairy tales.’ He put the folder down and began to pace the room.
‘I really don’t know what you mean,’ she said.
‘Vicenzo Lucchese. You were staying in his house for many weeks; you aren’t going to deny it, I hope?’
‘No, of course not. I stayed there. He’s a friend from the film industry. He was going away for a while and asked that I take care of his house, make sure his dogs were fed, that sort of thing.’
Guarnotta laughed sardonically. He walked round the other side of his desk, and sat down arranging his papers. ‘We have conducted a search of the Luccheses’ house.’
‘Have you?’ she asked indignantly. ‘I hope you didn’t make a mess.’
He ignored her question. ‘Would you like to know what we found?’
‘I’m sure I really don’t know,’ she said.
‘Guns, bombs – weapons of all kinds.’
She gasped.
‘You seem surprised. Are you really telling me that you didn’t know?’
‘Absolutely! I had no idea,’ she said. ‘I’m quite shocked. I don’t understand.’
‘You are an actress – perhaps you are giving a fine performance?’
‘No!’ she protested.
‘Not only is Lucchese a communist, signorina, and so an enemy of the State, but we found evidence that he is running a partisan cell. He is part of a Resistance group in Rome called GAP. Have you heard of it?’
‘No,’ she lied. ‘I’ve never heard of it.’
‘I’m surprised,’ he said, ‘I thought everyone knew GAP was responsible for the deaths of thirty-two German soldiers in Via Rasella. Are you still sure you knew nothing about it?’
‘Yes, I mean, no… I mean, I knew about the bombing of course. In fact, I was nearly killed myself that day. I was about to go down Via Rasella when the bomb went off. I wouldn’t have done that if I’d known about it beforehand, would I? You can ask my mother – she’ll tell you, I came home in a terrible state.’
He stared at her, his dark eyes unblinking. ‘Signorina, are you asking me to believe that you were in charge of his house, a house filled with weapons and bombs, and you knew nothing?’
‘Absolutely,’ she replied firmly. ‘I was just there to mind the house and feed the dogs.’
‘We arrested one of his fellow cell members there – you must have lived alongside him.’
‘I certainly did not,’ she replied indignantly. ‘I was quite alone when I lived there, apart from the maid.’
‘So you never met a man named Pietro Mocci?’ Guarnotta asked.
Isabella thought frantically. If she denied meeting him, and he had already implicated her, they would punish her. If she admitted to meeting him, it might implicate Vicenzo. She decided she had no other option than to simply to tell the truth.
‘I only met him once. I’d already left the house by the time he moved in. I went over to check everything was all right, and he was there in the sitting room. He told me he was the gardener. I thought it was odd, because Vicenzo already has a gardener. Besides,’ she said, her voice trailing off, ‘he didn’t look like a gardener. His hands were too soft.’
The policeman narrowed his eyes, exhaling through pursed