The Third Shadow

Seven

~~~~~

In Italy, many tobacconist's feature outside vending machines offering nicotine addicts twenty-four hour service. The closest of these to the holiday bungalow was located in the pretty coastal village of Pozzetta - this less than a couple of kilometres away, just the other side of the headland. If the cigarette story were true, this had almost certainly been Lee's destination. The shopkeeper's wife would recall him having popped in the previous Saturday. She could even correctly recall his preferred brand: Marlboro lights.

That had been an opening hours visit however; as a foreigner, Lee would have been unaware that, in an attempt to reduce underage smoking, the Italian government had some years earlier introduced strict I.D procedures. In order to procure a packet of cigarettes from a vending machine, a smoker has first to insert a valid Italian identity or national insurance card into the appropriate slot. Unfortunately, the nearest cctv camera - that surveilling the Pozzetta branch of the Banca di Puglia e Basilicata - was located fifty metres around the corner. Although footage would later show the passage of a dark-coloured vehicle corresponding to the form of a Peugot 206 along the coast road - this timed at 03.07, a perfect chronological fit - the side-on view negated licence number confirmation. Image enhancement seemed to indicate two separate forms, a passrnger and a baseball-capped driver, but both were little more than blurred, indistinct blobs against the dim haze of the streetlighting.

Supposing it were indeed the hire car, then what next? Frustrated, still desperate for cigarettes, Bracewell had headed further afield perhaps, tried another tobacconist's or else hoped to find an all-night garage shop. The bank cctv footage didn't appear to show the vehicle returning southwards - back to the holiday bungalow, that is; or at least not via the same road. Subsequent analysis of all cctv footage in the wider Punto San Giacomo area would likewise prove inconclusive. There is less of a 'Big Brother' mentality here in Italy than back at home it seems, surveillance still patchy even in town centres.

Had the Bracewell brothers' early morning ride really started out as a simple search for cigarettes?

Like so many others, it was a question which, for the time being at least, would have to remain unanswered.

*

Diane got back to me late afternoon of the same day, Tuesday the 27th. Not only is she an attractive woman but has the ability when needed to also sound attractive - an enormous advantage when trying to worm favours out of people over the phone.

It turned out the Nottinghamshire CID had Lee Bracewell on their radar all right: two separate raps for category A possession, another for reckless driving. He fancied himself as a bit of a playboy was the general perception. A successful young entrepreneur, fast car, a snort of coke on a Saturday night. The sort who doesn't think the rules apply to himself.

Of more immediate interest however was the information she'd had Hutchinson from Fraud wheedle out of bank contacts.

"He's still got a crush on you then?"

"Has got some sort of hair growth on his upper lip these days. I think it's supposed to be a moustache. The thing is though, rather than making him look older than twelve it actually makes him look even more so."

"A girl could do worse."

"Only very minimally, Jim. I mean, we'd have to be talking severe hallitosis or something."

Hoping that the man in question was nowhere within earshot, I listened as she filled me in on the details. Thus far, no fewer than three personal and two business accounts had been traced to Lee Bracewell. Bottom lines were revealing. If taken individually the various accounts wouldn't be enough to raise anybody's eyebrows, but totted up all together showed that he was worth over three hundred thousand pounds. As an entrepreneur presiding over a small chain of boutiques, one might have expected his financial situation to be comfortable, but perhaps not quite so rosy. If one also added into the equation, as our Nottinghamshire colleagues had informed her, the BMW and fancy studio flat overlooking Nottingham castle, then it was all quite some going for a man in his early thirties.