A/N: I don't own Ashes to Ashes... you know the rest.
I'm so sorry that it's taken so long to update both this and The Beginning of an Era, I'm having ongoing and worsening problems with family illness which are affecting the amount of time I can spend writing and posting. I will keep both stories updated as best I can.
Profuse thanks to the lovely reviewers of Chapter 4, Katie Duggan's Niece, 80's Babe, GeneHuntress and Angervo. You rock, ladies! And if anyone feels like reviewing this chapter...(cough)...
RIP the two LOM and A2A forums, The Railway Arms and Luigi's - may they arise like a phoenix from the Ashes...
As it's been so long since I posted the last chapter, here's a reminder of the story so far: Gene, Alex and the team are investigating the theft of young Josiah Peal's priceless Stradivarius violin following a concert at the Barbican Centre. Witnesses have identified a suspect seen leaving the Centre with a violin case at the time of the robbery, and waiter Emanuele has alerted the team to Michele Lavizio, a violinist at the Casa D'Oro restaurant, whose playing suddenly sounds much better than usual. Gene and Alex plan to visit the restaurant with Josiah to see if he can identify the violin...
First thing the following morning, Alex phoned Mansfield.
"Mr Mansfield. I have a favour to ask."
"If it's to do with recovering the Stradivarius, consider it done."
"Can we borrow Josiah this evening?"
"Might I ask why?"
"Certainly. We got a lead yesterday from a witness working at a City restaurant, who says that a violin played there for the first time two nights ago has really exceptional sound quality. He's a music student, so his judgement on such matters should be good."
"And you'd like Joe to hear it?"
"Yes. We've obtained a table there for tonight. If Josiah believes that it's the Stradivarius, we can stop the player and ask him to let us examine it. He'll recognise it, if anyone does."
Mansfield hesitated. "I'm worried that we may be getting his hopes up in vain. He's so upset over all this."
"I'm sorry, I know that's a possibility, but if we don't check this out, simply to protect Josiah's feelings, we may lose the violin. The thief could smell a rat and try to sneak abroad at any time."
"Yes. You're right. I'm sure he'll agree to come, but I'll have to impose one condition."
"That you come with him."
"Yes. I owe his parents that much."
"Don't worry. We've asked for a table for four."
"Thank you."
"Fine. Please be at the station at five-thirty. Our suspect is on between seven and eight."
"We'll be there."
Shortly afterwards, she received a call from Emanuele, confirming that he had managed to reserve a table for four for Gene and his party.
"I have no name for it, Signora, and I dare not use yours in case Lavizio recognises it from the television."
"That's fine, Emanuele, thank you very much. Use the name Kate Winslet."
"Kate - ?"
"Winslet. W-I-N-S-L-E-T."
"Thank you, Signora, I will. I will be there to see you to your table on your arrival, but I will be very careful not to betray that I know you. I should warn you, it is only a small table tucked into a corner. It was all I could get."
"That will be fine. The more out of the way we are, the harder it will be for Lavizio to spot us. He might know my face from the TV, or Josiah's from the concert. If Josiah wants a closer look at the violin, we'll signal to you. Tell him that there's a request from our table. We'll say that it's my birthday."
"I will remember that, Signora. Addio."
Gene flatly refused to change into "poncey glad rags" for the occasion, but as he was already wearing one of his trademark dark suits, Alex judged that he would do. She slipped over to her flat at 5.00 to change into the black outfit she had worn for her "last supper" with Gene, the day before the explosion. Elegant but understated, she thought.
Josiah and Mansfield arrived by taxi at 5.25, the former in a miniature black tuxedo which made him look older than did the flowing-sleeved black shirt he had worn at the concert, and the latter in a smart black suit guaranteed to make him look inconspicuous. The fate of the behind the scenes man, Alex reflected.
Josiah was pale and looked nervous but excited. "Good to see you, Miss Drake, Mr Hunt. Walter's told me about the tipoff."
"Just remember, it might not lead to anything. Don't get your hopes up too much. A waiter at the restaurant we're visiting tonight is a music student and tipped us off that a regular violinist there, Michele Lavizio, is playing an instrument which sounds much better than his usual one. We just need you to listen to Lavizio when he plays. If you think it could be the Stradivarius, tell us as discreetly as you can, and we'll ask him to play at our table. If you're sure enough of its identity, tell us, and then the rest will be up to us. Apart from that, keep your head down in case you're recognised. The same goes for you, Mr Mansfield. If Lavizio is the thief, he might have seen you backstage, and he certainly heard your voice."
Both Americans were astonished by Gene's insistence on driving to the Casa D'Oro, only a few streets away, but Josiah was thrilled by the car and by Gene's driving of it. Looking in the mirror, Alex noticed Mansfield looking terrified and turning a pale shade of green. He was clearly relieved when Gene parked the car around the corner from the restaurant to have a quiet word with Ray and Chris, who had followed the Quattro in Ray's car and were casing the kitchen and delivery exits.
"If you two tossers are loitering with intent, look less intentional about it!"
"Roger that, Guv." Ray was scowling. He and Chris would be freezing their arses off covering the outside while the Guv and Drake were in the warm restaurant.
"You can stay in the car till shortly before seven. Our suspect's on between seven an' eight, an' we'll make a move once Wonderboy 'as 'ad a chance to 'ear the fiddle. Keep the joint cased then. If 'e does a runner an' you don't stop 'im, I'll serve your 'eads to the Chief Commissary with apples in your mouths. Comprende?"
"Comprende, Guv," they muttered, and gratefully retired to the warmth of the car, leaving Gene to shepherd his party to the main entrance.
Josiah turned wondering eyes on Alex. "Why are those men there - oh, is it for us?"
"Two of our team watching the rear exits, just in case he tries to do a runner. We'll meet up with the waiter who tipped us off when we get inside."
"Wow!"
They entered the restaurant, gave the mysterious name of Winslet for their booking, and were escorted by a poker-faced Emanuele to a small circular table beneath an overhanging balcony, tastefully festooned with swags of festive greenery which helpfully shadowed their faces. Gene, as the only member of the party whose face the thief would definitely not know, sat in pole position with the best view of the platform, with Josiah beside him in the deepest shadow. Alex and Mansfield sat with their backs to the platform. She hoped that they would look like a family gathering, perhaps the boy and his parents with a favourite uncle.
Under cover of handing them their menus, Emanuele whispered, "The platform where he will perform is over there. Other musicians will play before him. I will warn you shortly before he comes on. May I recommend the Pollo Milanese, Signore?"
While waiting for their food, Alex turned in her seat to view the restaurant. Emanuale was right: it was a considerable cut above Luigi's. It was a wide room, panelled in wood to halfway up the walls, with balconies at either side and the performers' platform at the rear, facing the entrance. If Lavizio turned out to be their man, he would have to negotiate an obstacle course of chairs and tables to reach the front door, but would be able to slip out to either of the rear exits leading to the kitchens. It was as well that they had Ray and Chris in place. Behind her, she knew that Gene was making exactly the same calculations.
They were all silent and uneasy. It was a good fifty minutes until Lavizio would appear, and the time hung heavy. After their starters and while they awaited their mains, Gene excused himself to visit the Gents. Both toilets were down a corridor on the opposite end of the room to their table. Further down the corridor was a door marked Private. Hearing the sounds of singers warming up and musicians tuning their instruments, Gene correctly deduced that this was the performers' changing room - no, dressing room. A fire door at the far end of the corridor would give the thief an easy exit. Checking that it was not linked to an alarm, he carefully opened it, left a fag packet to wedge it slightly open, and crept out to find Ray and Chris, both fast asleep in their car. He hammered on the windscreen, making them both jump like startled rabbits.
"If you want to sleep on the job, you can join the fire brigade!"
Ray wound the window down. "Er, sorry, Guv. Stuffy in 'ere."
"Well, 'ere's something to keep you awake. That fire door over there. Watch it. It's by the changing room. Could be Sonny Boy's number one escape route."
"Roger that, Guv," Ray sighed.
Gene stole back and, much to his relief, managed to push the fire door to without making it bang. He left the fag packet wedged in the door to enable Ray and Chris to get in if necessary. Passing the dressing room, the sound of a violin tuning up created in him an overwhelming urge to burst into the room, punch the fiddler, retrieve the instrument, and hand it to Josiah for identification. With some difficulty, he restrained himself. He had not discounted the possibility that there might be more than one violinist in the room, and if he nicked the wrong fiddle it would be catastrophic.
Returning to his seat, he leaned over and murmured quietly to Alex, "Bolly. Changing rooms in the same corridor as the loos. Fire door at the end. I've alerted Ray an' Chris." She nodded slightly to indicate that she had heard, just as their mains arrived.
The entertainment began at six-thirty with two guitarists, followed by a contralto a quarter of an hour later. They all performed well, but Alex could tell that their music fretted Josiah's nerves. There was only one instrument that he wanted to hear. He was too nervous to eat much, and Mansfield was little better.
-oO0Oo-
"It's freezin' out 'ere, Brass monkey weather."
"Yeah, it's all right for the Guv an' the Boss, 'aving a posh feed an' listening to the music in the warm. I'd settle for a slice of Luigi's steak an' chips pizza right now."
"What's the time, Ray?"
"Ten to seven."
"Guv left that back door open for us, an' 'e said the loos are along there. I'm bursting."
"Chris, you div! Come back 'ere!"
But Chris had already slipped inside, leaving Ray to curse in the cold.
-oO0Oo-
At a couple of minutes to seven, Emanuele glided over to the Fenchurch table with an unsolicited bottle of fizzy water. "Any time now. I have seen him getting ready." He stepped back as the singer bowed amid applause and exited, to be replaced by a tall, slim man in his forties with black, curly hair, clutching a bow and a blackened, chipped, worn-looking violin.
Josiah started out of his seat and was firmly hauled back into place by Gene and Mansfield, while Emanuele expertly stepped in front of the table, ostensibly to respond to another diner, until order had been restored.
"Can it, kiddo, or you'll blow our cover before 'e plays a note!" Gene hissed.
"But - but that's not her," Josiah choked under his breath. "It looks awful!"
"Sh. Listen." Alex counselled.
The violinist tucked his instrument under his chin, raised his bow, and launched into Paganini's Cantabile. The tatty violin sang like something from a world above. All conversation died away to an awed hush upon which the music floated, unearthly, exquisite, divine.
The three adults looked at Josiah. His eyes were tight shut and he was listening with his whole being. As the number ended amid a roar of applause, he opened his eyes.
"It sounds like her. It does. But the tone's a little flatter, not so much resonance, and it looks so awful."
"Do you want a closer look or not?" Gene demanded impatiently, while Alex and Mansfield both anxiously signalled to him not to push too hard.
Josiah nodded tensely. Gene raised his hand to attract Emanuele's attention and muttered a word in his ear, and the waiter slipped discreetly through the tables to the platform. While they sat through Lavizio's next number, an equally divine Meditation from Thaïs, Alex reached for the black velvet fascinator in her handbag, drew the sparkling diamante clip from her hair, let it fall across her forehead, and wrapped the fascinator around her head. Not a very effective disguise, but it would change the shape of her face, and in the dim light there was a chance that Lavizio might not recognise her.
During the applause, Emanuele approached Lavizio and whispered to him. He nodded and followed Emanuele to the Fenchurch table. Gene stood, awaiting him, while Josiah shrank back into the shadows, trembling, and Mansfield made himself look invisible. Alex looked up at Gene, keeping her back towards Lavizio.
" 'Ere, you. A serenade for our birthday girl."
"Certamente, Signore. What do you wish? Happy Birthday To You?"
"That'll do, yeah."
Gene sat, and Alex half-turned her head towards Lavizio as the violin sang once more. The whole restaurant thundered with applause as he finished.
Josiah stood suddenly. He was shaking. "Will you play the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto? I played it three nights ago." His voice was shrill with emotion and carried to every corner of the room.
Lavizio whitened at the sight of him and turned to flee, but Emanuele barred his way. Gene leapt to his feet, and the long arm of the law grabbed the musician's shoulder.
"DCI Gene Hunt, CID. We want a look at your fiddle."
-oO0Oo-
"Ray! Come on! It's all kicking off!"
" 'Ow do you know?"
"I 'eard while I was in the bogs! Come on!"
-oO0Oo-
Lavizio swore in Italian, backed into Gene, elbowed him in the stomach, pulled free, shoved Emanuele into a nearby table, and took to his heels. Gene recovered and thundered after him, followed by Alex and Mansfield, while Josiah, trapped behind the table and trying to clamber over Gene's discarded chair, yelled, "Stop him! He's got her! The Stradivarius!"
As Lavizio reached the artists' door, Ray and Chris burst through it and he bounced off them like a squash ball. The violin shot from his hands and flew through the air in a wide arc. Time seemed to stand still as Josiah screamed in horror and Gene skidded along the floor on his stomach, rolled over, and fielded the fiddle as it came in to land, clasping it tenderly to his chest. It was the finest save Alex had ever seen. The diners, who had been watching the unexpected floor show open-mouthed, gave him a standing ovation, and one man called out, "Well held, Sir!".
"What is going on?" Lavizio demanded, struggling in Ray's grip. "Why have you assaulted me?"
"That's just what I want to know," an imposing individual in an intimidatingly perfect dinner jacket intoned as he advanced to the centre of the room. "And when you've given me your explanation, I must ask you to leave at once."
"We'll leave in our own good time," Gene countered, scrambling to his feet, cradling the violin in his arms.
Alex produced her warrant card from her handbag. "DI Drake, CID. This is my superior officer, DCI Gene Hunt. We are investigating the theft of a priceless Stradivarius from the Barbican Hall three nights ago. I take it you are the proprietor of this restaurant?"
"I am, madam. And what makes you think that we are harbouring stolen property?"
"Why have you taken my violin?" Lavizio bellowed at the same time. "I demand that you return MY VIOLIN!"
Gene walked up to the trembling Josiah. "Peal. Can you ID this fiddle as your fiddle?"
Josiah was barely able to stand. "H-has anyone got a torch?"
Alex produced a slim pencil torch and a magnifying glass from her handbag, Emanuele cleared the table of crockery and glasses and spread a clean napkin on it, and Gene carefully laid the violin down. A child's umbrella could have covered all their heads as they crowded around the table. Josiah shone the torch into the lefthand F-hole and peered into it with the magnifying glass. A deep sigh escaped him and he passed the torch to Alex. She peered in, nodded, and passed the torch to Gene. Inside the violin was a yellowing scrap of printed paper which read:
Antonius Stradiuarius Cremonenfis
Faciebat Anno 1713
Gene grinned, returned the torch to Alex, and marched up to Lavizio.
"Your fiddlin' days are over. You're nicked. On suspicion of nicking the Golden Straddy from the Barbican 'All."
Lavizio's and the proprietor's whinnies of protest were drowned by Josiah's outraged howl as he ran his fingers along the precious wood and surveyed his blackened hands.
"Boot polish! The bastard's put boot polish on the Stradivarius!"
-oO0Oo-
An hour later, following an unpleasant altercation with the proprietor, they were all back at the station. Alex asked Josiah and Mansfield to give their witness statements of the evening's events to the grumbling Ray and Chris. She knew that if Lavizio went to trial, it would be after they left the country, and it would be as well to obtain as much evidence from them as possible while they were still in London. Lavizio was already in the cells and, on Gene's insistence, had been fingerprinted. The final results were awaited, but it looked very much as though his prints would match those on the violin case, the door handle in Josiah's dressing room and the cover of the Barnetts' book.
After a quick cup of tea and a slice of pizza from Luigi's to make up for the abandonment of their meal at the Casa D'Oro, Alex and Gene were ready to interview Lavizio. He faced them defiantly.
"Michele Lavizio. Care to explain 'ow you came to be in possession of a priceless fiddle which was stolen from Josiah Peal's changing room at the Barbican 'All three nights ago?"
"You know all already, so why should I say anything?" Lavizio said sullenly.
"Did you steal it? Or are you goin' to claim you bought it from a mate to do 'im a favour?"
"The lady knows the answer to that, does she not? Not an opportunistic crime. Carefully, cunningly, deliberately planned. That was what you said, Signora."
"That does not answer DCI Hunt's question," Alex said coldly. "We know that a man of your height and build, wearing a black overcoat and hat and disguised with a moustache and glasses, was seen in the audience during the concert at which the violin was played, and again leaving the backstage area, carrying a violin case, at ten o'clock, just before the theft was discovered. A man, carrying a violin case but without the disguise, was also seen crossing the Barbican Estate towards Moorgate at ten-fifteen. Were you that man?"
"An' if you weren't, 'ow come you'd disguised the fiddle with boot polish an' ran like a hare when I wanted to look at it?" Gene added.
"Yes, I took it!" Lavizio shouted.
"You wanted to go one better than the thieves who took it before, and were caught." Alex was inexorable.
"Yes! They were fools. I knew I could do better than they."
"Says the man who left 'is glove behind an' gave us enough fingerprints to keep Forensics 'appy for a year," Gene said scornfully.
"I took it to release it, to allow it to make music again!" Lavizio insisted. "For eight years it has been hidden away in a vault, silent, owned by some rich American who kept it as an object and never played it, never even looked at it! That is a crime far greater than any you say I have committed. I was going to play it and play it until I had made enough money to take it back where it belongs."
"Where is that?" Alex asked.
"Where it was made. Cremona, my own home town. There it would have lived again amid the sunshine and it would have sung for the people of Italy. It would have spread beauty, happiness, just as its maker intended."
"Didn't you consider what you were doing to an innocent young man when you took the violin from his dressing room?" Alex said grimly. "Didn't you think that you might be ruining his career? His whole life?"
"Pah! A child. What right had he to touch the Stradivarius, let alone play it? How could he understand?"
"Not to mention the fact the 'e's another Yank, an' you seem to 'ave a down on the whole race," Gene added drily.
"Enjoy your triumph, policeman," Lavizio said passionately. "You have caught me, and now I will go to prison. But the violin will go to a prison far worse than mine, an endless, silent darkness where it will never sing again. That is your triumph. Rejoice in it!"
"Is bein' kept in a museum better than bein' 'awked around clubs an' restaurants, covered in boot polish?" Gene demanded.
"Just think of Mr Van Hatten's ownership as a chapter in the violin's long life history." Alex spoke more gently. She was coming to understand the man's tormented obsession. "It has been owned and played by many in its time, and will be by many more. While he owns it, it will be kept safe to delight future generations. Some day, maybe not in your lifetime, it will be played, and it will sing again."
"But not by you," Gene added with unnecessary relish.
Lavizio deflated. "I have failed in my mission. Do what you will with me."
"Gladly. Michele Lavizio, you are charged with the theft of the Golden Straddyvarrius. Drake, get Skip to fiddle our fiddler into a nice, cosy cell."
With Lavizio safely stowed, they emerged into the corridor and walked slowly together towards the desk.
"Bloody 'ell," Gene intoned. "Prepared to do porridge for the sake of a fiddle."
"Well, at now least he's told you why, Guv. Personally I have some sympathy."
"EH?"
"He's right. An instrument like that should be played, not just owned."
"You aren't tellin' me that you'd nick a fiddle an' cover it in polish to keep it from its rightful owner."
Alex rolled her eyes. "Credit me with some sense, Guv. I only meant that I understood why he wanted to do it. Remember, Josiah feels the same way, but he wasn't going to steal it."
"In that case, Miss Clever Clogs, tell me why Lavizio played it in public when 'e knew we were searching London for it. If 'e 'adn't, we wouldn't 'ave rumbled 'im."
"He said that he hoped to make money with it. He was trusting it to bring him a better income than his own violin."
"Yeah, to take it back to Italy."
"But it was more than that. It was a desire to show off his new toy. That was his weak spot." She smiled sadly. "Remember what I said about your wanting that train set, Guv?"
As she spoke, they arrived at the desk, where they found Josiah and Mansfield awaiting them. Both looked as though a vast weight had been lifted from their shoulders, and although he was so exhausted that his face was all eyes, Josiah was radiant.
"You two still 'ere? Would 'ave thought it was well past your bedtimes."
"Your sergeant has very kindly allowed us to use his phone to call the States collect," Mansfield explained. "I hope that was all right."
"Fine, of course," Alex said reassuringly.
"Joe's phoned his mother to let her know that the violin's been found. We can't tell you how relieved she is. And then I called Mr Van Hatten. He has asked me to express his deepest gratitude to the Metropolitan Police for your swift handling of this case and its successful concluson. He'll send a letter of thanks, but I'm to give you his message now."
"A letter. That'll be good to show to the Chief Constable," Alex said with satisfaction.
"Yeah, an' I'll 'ave to phone the blight to tell 'im we've cracked the case."
Mansfield reached for his wallet. "He's also asked me to hand you five hundred dollars so that you and all your team can have a drink on him."
"Blimey, five hundred smackers? Be able to 'ave quite a party on that, won't we, Bolly?"
"Before we go back to our hotel, we just wanted to check," Mansfield said nervously. "We hope you don't need to retain the violin as evidence? You'll understand that we don't want to let it out of our sight from now on."
Alex and Gene looked at each other, and Gene cleared his throat. "No, er, don't want a thing like that clutterin' up my nice, tidy station."
"Lavizio's confessed to the robbery, so there probably won't be a trial," Alex added. "But it would be helpful to let the police photographer take some shots of it for our records. He can come to your hotel."
Josiah spoke for the first time. "I want to thank you so much. For everything."
"So, now you'll be able to play the Stradivarius at the charity concert on the twenty-second?" Alex asked.
He pulled a face. "I'm afraid not. She'll need months of restoration to remove all that boot polish. Heaven knows what it'll have done to the varnish. No wonder her tone sounded flat tonight. But Julian Anderson's promised to lend me his 1732 Guarnerius for the concert, so it isn't all bad. That's a great instrument too, but not as good as the Stradivarius. Nothing is." He looked sad. "And after she's restored, she'll go back to Mr Van Hatten's vault."
"Never mind, Josiah," Alex said comfortingly. "One day, maybe you'll become rich and famous enough to have a Stradivarius of your very own."
Josiah sighed. "What a pipe dream. Anyway, that brings me on to what I wanted to say. The concert's sold out, but I have some complimentary tickets. Will you both please be my guests? I'll want to wish you a merry Christmas then, before I fly home the next day."
Beside her, Alex felt Gene stiffen. Three hours of classical music would be his personal equivalent of an outer circle of the Inferno.
"Thank you, Josiah. I'd love to come," she said warmly. As discreetly as she could, she nudged Gene.
"Yeah, er, thanks, that'll be great." He sounded as though he were swallowing a pork pie. Alex was open-mouthed with astonishment. "But, er, on one condition."
"What's that?" Josiah asked brightly. Alex noticed that Mansfield looked wary.
"We'll be 'aving a party tomorrow night at the restaurant across the way, to celebrate wrappin' the case. Will you be our guests?"
Alex's heart sank. She could scarcely imagine a less suitable environment for a teenager than Luigi's with CID in full cry. But she realised that Gene had judged his audience rightly. For Josiah, with his love of cop shows, such an invitation was like opening the gates of an earthly Paradise.
"Wow, I'd love to! But are you sure you'd want me?"
" 'Course we would." Gene strove to sound enthusiastic. "You'd both be welcome."
"It, um, it couldn't be for very long, Joe," Mansfield said hurriedly. "No more than an hour. You've got a rehearsal at ten-thirty the following day."
"That'd suit us fine," Gene declared. "Just an hour to see 'ow we London cops spend our leisure time, an' we'll be glad to 'ave you. Be at Luigi's, the restaurant across the way, at six tomorrow. Tell 'em you're with Signor Hunt."
Josiah beamed. "It's a date!"
"Just one more thing," Alex added. "The two ladies who witnessed Lavizio leaving with the violin. They were trying to get autographs in their book about the orchestra. We have to retain it as evidence. Can you arrange for them to receive another copy?"
"We'll do that," Mansfield declared. "Give us their address when we're here tomorrow, and we'll send them tickets as well. Come on, Joe, let's get going."
"See you tomorrow!" Josiah called out as Mansfield gently shepherded him away, and Alex waved as they passed through the swing doors.
"Guv!" she remonstrated as soon as they were alone. "What on earth were you thinking of, inviting an impressionable teenager to a CID hoedown? It could be enough to corrupt him for life!"
Gene's face was expressionless. "There was a kid 'is age once who loved cops. Used to 'ang around the station to get a sight of 'em, even follow 'em to the pub to get a sniff of what it was like to be a real, live copper. Used to get sent 'ome with clips round the ear, of course, an' got beltings from 'is Dad when 'e got 'ome for being out late. Bein' invited to a cops' Christmas do would 'ave been 'Eaven for 'im."
Alex was silent, knowing that he was talking about himself.
"Can't invite Peal to our Christmas party, that's on the twenty-fourth an' 'e'll be 'ome by then. But we can give 'im tomorrow night. Van Hatten's payin' for it, after all. I'll tell the troops to be on their least bad behaviour while Peal's 'ere. Won't kill 'em for one hour. Give 'im something to remember about us when 'e's back 'ome."
She tucked her arm through his. "And to think I thought you were lacking in the Christmas spirit."
"Only lacking the bits that don't matter, Bolly. Goin' to 'is concert, now, that'll take some real Christmas spirit."
"But you're doing it for him."
"Yeah, well, can't disappoint the kid," he mumbled.
"There's one other thing we should do."
"Wassat?"
"Persuade Luigi to give Emanuele his job back. He's been our guardian angel on this case, and I can't imagine the Casa D'Oro will want to see him again after tonight's little set-to."
"Won't want us to darken their doors again either. We'll sweet-talk Luigi tomorrow. Right! I'm off to ring the Chief Calamity an' tell 'im we've found the fiddle an' the fiddle-fiddler. An' to tell 'im we're going to a snotty sold out concert 'e'd give 'is eye teeth to get invited to. See you later, Bols."
TBC
A/N: Bartolomeo Giuseppe Antonio Guarneri was the OTHER greatest luthier (violin maker) of all time. For Josiah, to be offered a Guarnerius to replace his Stradivarius is a bit like being offered a Lamborghini to replace a Rolls-Royce.
