‘I didn’t like to ask.’
Rachel glanced up with irritation. ‘She just might be a bit cagey.’
‘Cagey?’
‘Sounded a bit paranoid on the phone. Not surprising really.’
As the taxi grumbled through the crazy, traffic-clogged streets, past a statute of Julius Caesar and over the green-grey river that snaked through the city, Rachel buried her nose in Julian’s Rheladrex report as if she were doing last-minute swotting for an exam.
‘I’ve started therapy.’ Whether it was something to fill the silence, a way of exchanging information or a hope that it would lead subtly to a discussion about Adam Denver, Diana had no idea why she said it.
‘Good,’ said Rachel, looking up from the report.
‘You think so?’ Rachel’s approval was suddenly important to her.
‘I just hope you haven’t told her anything that you haven’t told me.’
Adam’s name was there, on the tip of her tongue, but then the taxi ground to a halt, almost flinging them forward off their seat and taking all discussion off the agenda.
‘We are here,’ said the driver.
Adriana Russi’s apartment was in a tall, crumbling sandstone building opposite a bustling market and a row of cafés where people spilled out on to the streets at small wicker tables loaded with tiny espresso cups and bowls of pasta.
They searched for an empty table at the quietest bar, slipping a waiter a ten-euro note to find them somewhere. Rachel sent Dr Russi a text, and after twenty minutes, a forty-something woman with dark blond hair cut into a bob approached them. She was plain-looking, but she made the best of herself in pale chinos, a neat blue Oxford shirt and loafers. If it wasn’t for the deep lines around her eyes, she could have been an Ivy League college student rather than a professor.
‘Mrs Denver?’ she asked in perfect American-accented English.
‘Yes – this is Diana. I’m Rachel Miller, her sister.’
Dr Russi took a seat overlooking the street and looked around. Diana wasn’t sure if she was seeking out the waiter or someone else.
‘Thank you for meeting us.’
‘I couldn’t say no to the chief executive’s wife, could I?’
‘So you worked for the pharmacovigilance department of Denver Chemicals?’ asked Rachel after they had ordered coffee. It was thick and black and almost stuck to her lips as she sipped it.
‘You know that,’ said Dr Russi, not unkindly.
‘We know it but we don’t exactly know what it means.’
‘I am sorry about your husband,’ said Dr Russi, directing her attention to Diana.
‘News travels this far?’ said Diana quietly.
‘People are always interested in their former employers.’
‘So you met Julian?’ asked Rachel quickly.
‘I did.’
‘Was it about Rheladrex?’
Dr Russi fell silent.
‘Do you know why I left Denver?’ she said finally.
‘Can you tell us?’