‘Hello, Friday,’ said Ian, flashing his most charming dazzling smile. ‘You look lovely tonight.’ This was clearly a lie. Friday was wearing her periodic table pyjamas with her brown cardigan over the top.

  ‘What do you want?’ asked Friday. She was suspicious of Ian. He had always liked to play tricks on her. She didn’t think her heart could take it if he started that up again now.

  ‘Help,’ said Ian. ‘I need your help.’

  ‘I don’t do detective work anymore,’ said Friday, pulling the window back to close it.

  Ian caught the frame before she could latch it. ‘No, it’s not detective work,’ he said. ‘It’s plumbing.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Friday.

  ‘Not my plumbing,’ said Ian, now he blushed a little. ‘Actual plumbing. There’s a hot water heater problem.’

  ‘And you came to get me?’ asked Friday. She was totally perplexed.

  ‘It’s 9 o’clock on a Saturday night,’ said Ian. ‘No plumber will come out and fix it at this hour.’

  ‘Can’t it wait until the morning?’ said Friday.

  ‘No,’ said Ian. He didn’t volunteer anymore information.

  Friday tried to stare him down. But it was hard to stare down a good-looking person, their face makes your mind wander.

  ‘Just go,’ urged Melanie with a yawn. ‘You were keeping me awake with your page turning and note taking anyway.’

  ‘Nothing keeps you awake,’ said Friday.

  ‘True,’ said Melanie. ‘But I can achieve a deeper sleep in a darkened, silent room.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Friday. ‘I’ll get changed.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Ian.

  ‘Humpf,’ said Friday, as she dug her jeans out of her suitcase.

  A few minutes later, Friday and Ian were walking through the Santa Croce district towards Ian’s apartment building. They didn’t talk much. Friday’s thoughts were still caught up in her translation. Not that small talk, or big talk for that matter, had ever been a strong suit for her. Ian’s silence was odder. He usually had something smart-alecy to say. The fact that he wasn’t teasing or tormenting her, made Friday nervous that he was winding up for something worse. In a way, he was. As they came around the corner into Via Torta, Uncle Bernie’s apartment block was up ahead. Friday turned towards it.

  ‘That’s not where we’re going,’ said Ian.

  ‘What?’ said Friday.

  ‘It’s not the hot water heater at our house that is the problem,’ said Ian.

  Friday began to get a nasty burning feeling in the pit of her stomach. ‘Whose house are we going to?’ she asked.

  Ian stopped and turned back to her.

  ‘Tatiana’s,’ he said.

  ‘You want me to fix your girlfriend’s hot water heater?’ asked Friday. This conversation was making her feel sick.

  ‘Yes, please,’ said Ian.

  ‘Why would I do that?’ asked Friday.

  ‘As a favour to me,’ said Ian.

  Friday raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Surely you owe me one favour after all the times I’ve saved your life,’ said Ian.

  ‘What?’ said Friday. ‘I’ve saved your life, saved your scholarship and saved you from getting a criminal record way more often than you’ve helped me.’

  ‘Well, I haven’t been keeping count,’ said Ian. ‘I’ll take your word for it.’

  ‘I’m going back to bed,’ said Friday. She turned around and started trudging towards the convent.

  ‘Please, Friday,’ said Ian. ‘It’s not just her. It’s her whole family. It’s tearing them apart. Her father wakes up every morning, the water is cold. He yells and screams. Then her mum yells and screams. Then her brother sulks and her dad screams at him. Right now, they’re all sitting inside there.’ He turned and pointed to an apartment block at the end of the street. ‘They’re all sweaty and miserable and angry with each other. If you could fix their hot water heater, it would be better than a year of family therapy for them. You don’t want to see a whole family miserable, do you?’

  Friday knew Ian was playing her. Families were her Achilles heel. She didn’t have a good relationship with her own family, and she hated seeing other people in the same predicament.

  ‘I did write to you, you know,’ said Ian. ‘When you were in detention. I wrote every week.’

  ‘I never got any letters,’ said Friday. She looked at Ian, trying to gauge if he was lying. She realised he was looking at her, trying to do the same thing. And in that moment, Friday had an epiphany – Ian found her as confusing as she found him. Strangely this made her feel better. Friday sighed. ‘Is it gas or electric? There’s a limit to what I can do with gas.’

  ‘It’s electric!’ said Ian. He jogged over and grabbed Friday by the hand and tugged her towards the right building. ‘Thank you, Friday. I owe you one.’

  ‘A big one,’ grumbled Friday.

  There was an intercom button outside. Ian pressed it. They were obviously expecting him because they buzzed open the door straightaway.

  ‘Come on,’ he said, pushing open the heavy old door. Friday followed Ian into the lobby. The walls were uncovered stone and the floor was tiled, so it felt cold. It was very sparse but elegant. Clearly a nice building. Across the small lobby was a staircase on the left, and an alcove on the right where rubbish bins were kept. Along the inside wall were six letterboxes and circuit boxes. It was very utilitarian and functional. But up the stairs to the floors with apartments it all became more decorative.

  Ian started up the staircase, but Friday paused by the building’s fuse boxes.

  ‘Which apartment are they in?’ she asked.

  ‘3A, why?’ asked Ian.

  Friday opened the door of the fuse box marked 3A. There was a neat line of circuit breakers all in the ‘on’ position.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Friday. ‘It’s just that the first thing to check with an electrical appliance is the circuit box.’

  She shut the door and followed Ian.

  ‘They’re on the third floor,’ said Ian, bounding up the stairs ahead of her.

  After days of sightseeing and walking up the stairs of every church, monument and museum in the city, Friday moved at a slower pace.

  As she stepped up onto the third floor landing, Ian was already knocking at the door of apartment 3A. He didn’t have to wait long for it to open.

  ‘I brought someone to fix your heater,’ he said.

  It was Tatiana who looked past his shoulder at Friday. ‘Oh, hello,’ she said politely. ‘That’s very kind of you to come and help.’ She turned to Ian and spoke in rapid-fire Italian. ‘You had to bring your ugly ex-girlfriend? As if this evening isn’t bad enough. Are you doing this to torment me?’

  Friday felt oddly pleased to realise that she had apparently ruffled Tatiana’s feathers. Also that Ian must have described her as his ‘ex-girlfriend’.

  ‘It’s fine,’ said Ian. ‘Friday doesn’t mind helping at all. You go and watch TV or read a book. You won’t even know we’re here. We’ll take care of it all for you.’

  Tatiana smiled at Friday as she stood back and motioned for her to enter.

  ‘Can I get you a refreshment? Coffee, water?’ she asked.

  ‘No, thank you,’ said Friday.

  ‘Good evening,’ an older Italian woman came to greet them. She managed to look effortlessly elegant even in her casual-at-home clothes. Friday was self-conscious. She hadn’t even changed out of her periodic table pyjama top. She was still wearing it under her ugly oversized brown cardigan. ‘Who have we here?’

  ‘Ian has brought his friend to fix the water heater,’ said Tatiana. ‘Her name is Thursday.’

  ‘Friday,’ corrected Friday. ‘Friday Barnes.’

  ‘Ah, the niece of Signore Barnes. I have heard of you, from Ian. He is a good boyfriend for my Tatiana. He tells me everything.’

  Ian smiled. ‘Friday, this is Signora Benatti,’ he explained.

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Friday.

  ‘We should let her get on and fix it,’ said Tatiana in Italian to her mother. ‘If she can.’

  ‘Good luck,’ said Mrs Benatti. ‘The top plumber in Rome could not fix it. If you can, you are a miracle worker.’

  ‘Sometimes problems are not solved with expertise, but with lateral thinking,’ said Friday.

  Mrs Benatti nodded at this logic. ‘Just so.’ She followed her daughter back towards the living room, leaving Friday alone with Ian.

  ‘Tatiana doesn’t realise I speak Italian, does she?’ asked Friday.

  ‘No,’ agreed Ian. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Friday shrugged. ‘It’s nothing I didn’t know already.’

  Ian scowled, ‘It’s not true.’

  ‘I have access to a mirror,’ said Friday.

  ‘It’s not true,’ Ian repeated.

  ‘You’d better show me the heater so I can get this over with,’ said Friday.

  Ian led her past the living room. Friday glanced in and was startled to see what looked like a marble statue sitting on the couch. But then she remembered the brother who busked by pretending to be renaissance sculptures. He looked really convincing. It wasn’t just white body paint. He had make-up that looked like lichen and mould, even bird poo. Exactly like a real four-hundred-year-old statue that had been outside for centuries. It couldn’t be a lot of fun to wear that much make-up all over your body and come home to find that you can’t have a shower. Friday kept following Ian through the kitchen out onto a balcony at the rear of the building.

  ‘Here it is,’ said Ian, flicking on the light.

  Friday had expected to see a water heater attached to the wall. But that was not the case. Instead, strewn across the floor was a large collection of spare parts. The hot water tank was totally detached and lying on its side in the corner.

  ‘This isn’t broken!’ exclaimed Friday. ‘It’s disassembled.’

  ‘Well, you see,’ said Ian. ‘The plumber who came and looked it over said there was nothing wrong with it. That was four weeks ago. But the following morning it happened again. Inspector Benatti woke up, went to take a shower and the water was stone cold.’

  ‘Didn’t he simply call the same plumber back?’ asked Friday.

  ‘He did,’ agreed Ian. ‘The plumber checked again. And again, the heater was working perfectly. But again, three days later, the heater failed and the water was cold.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Friday.

  ‘Quite,’ agreed Ian. ‘Inspector Benatti hit the roof and a different plumber was called in and so on. They have had five different plumbers to look at it. None of them can find what is wrong, it is always working fine when they’re here. But then a few days later Inspector Benatti gets up, steps into the shower and the water is stone cold.’

  ‘I can see how that would be annoying,’ said Friday.

  ‘An ice-cold shower is not a happy way for anyone to start the day,’ said Ian. ‘But for a police inspector with access to weapons, it’s positively dangerous.’

  ‘No wonder he is always so bad tempered,’ said Friday. ‘But that doesn’t explain why the heater has been taken to pieces.’

  ‘Well, Mrs Benatti arranged for an expert plumber to come up all the way from Rome, from the factory where the heater was made,’ explained Ian. ‘He was here this afternoon to fix it.’

  ‘And he couldn’t find anything wrong?’ guessed Friday.

  ‘No,’ said Ian. ‘And Inspector Benatti got very aggravated. He started snapping at him, then screaming at him and the plumber didn’t like that. So he walked out, leaving everything exactly as it is now.’

  ‘I see,’ said Friday.

  ‘Please fix it,’ said Ian. ‘You may not like any of the people here, including me right now. But it would be an act of humanity. Apart from anything else, Roberto is really beginning to smell. He’s been up at Piazzale Michelangelo all day, pretending to be the statue of David and he got really sweaty.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Friday. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

  ‘Luckily the plumber was so angry he left all his tools,’ said Ian. ‘So, you should have everything here you need.’

  ‘All right,’ said Friday. ‘But this isn’t a jigsaw puzzle. You only need one piece to be missing and it won’t work. Or worse, it will work, the water will overheat, there will be catastrophic failure and the whole thing will explode.’

  ‘I have great faith in your handyman skills,’ said Ian.

  ‘Handyperson,’ said Friday.

  ‘Of course,’ said Ian.

  Friday crouched down and started examining the pieces. She found two that fit together, so she reached for the tool bag. Ian was watching her.

  ‘Are you just going to stand there?’ asked Friday.

  ‘I can help if you like,’ said Ian.

  ‘This is going to be fiddly,’ said Friday, shaking her head. ‘It’s a one-man job.’

  ‘One person,’ said Ian with a smirk.

  Friday smiled. ‘Why don’t you go and watch TV with Tatiana and Roberto? I’ll give you a yell if I need a hand.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Ian.

  Friday got to work, reassembling the pieces. It took a while, but it was actually kind of fun. Well, it was Friday’s idea of fun. It was satisfying putting something together, like building a Lego kit. The plumber had done a good job of taking it apart. He had laid everything out neatly. The hard part was levering the tank up and edging it back into position. She had to scrape it about a bit to get it right.

  ‘HOW MUCH LONGER IS THIS INFERNAL NOISE GOING TO GO ON FOR?’ a voice bellowed at her from above.

  Friday was just tipping the tank into the right spot. She was so startled that it almost fell back on her. It took all her not-very-great strength to push it back upright.

  ‘I’m sorry?’ said Friday.

  ‘Bang bang bang, scrape scrape, bang bang,’ yelled the man. ‘That’s all I hear. How can I sleep through this? I was up at 2 am delivering a baby. Then all day long I have consultations and rotations. I finally get home and go to bed and you are banging away. It is like sleeping on top of building site.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Friday. ‘I’ve almost finished.’

  ‘I would report you to the police,’ said the man. ‘But no, you are the police.’

  ‘Well, not me personally,’ said Friday.

  ‘Maybe I will report you to the head of police in Rome,’ said the man. ‘It is outrageous. I’m delivering babies two or three nights a week, I need to be able to sleep in my own home.’

  ‘Studies show that sleep deprivation is extremely distressing, and can impede rational behaviour,’ said Friday. ‘So, I will endeavour to do nothing that could escalate your already disproportional anger.’ Friday screwed the feed pipe back into the tank and checked the settings as she said this. ‘All done. If you have problem with Inspector Benatti, I recommend putting your complaint in writing. He has a bad temper too. And a gun.’

  She turned the power switch to the ‘on’ position and stepped back into the apartment. It was quiet now. She could hear the television in the other room. And the annoyed neighbour stomping back across his apartment, presumably to go to bed. She took a moment to look about.

  It was an elegant apartment. There were some beautiful paintings on the wall. She went over to get a closer look. The subject matter was a bit banal – there was a painting of flowers, another of fruit and a third depicting an arrangement of cheese. They must be Roberto’s work. She didn’t know a lot about art, but these were very good. It must be frustrating to be that talented yet only have your work hung in your parents’ kitchen, and have to earn a living pretending to be a statue all day.

  A door slammed. Friday flinched.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ demanded Inspector Benatti.

  The Inspector was standing in the hallway. His briefcase still in his hand. He had obviously just come home from the police station. ‘Have you broken in? Is this a robbery? Are you planning to steal my son’s paintings?’

  ‘No, I was fixing your hot water heater,’ said Friday, indicating the balcony behind her.

  ‘What?’ demanded the Inspector, closing the distance between them.

  ‘Ian asked me to come over and fix it,’ said Friday. ‘He said you were all upset because you couldn’t take a shower.’

  ‘I know who you are,’ said the Inspector. ‘I know about your criminal record. Stay right there. I’m calling a squad car.’

  ‘No, it’s true,’ said Friday, backing up. She didn’t want to get arrested. She started mentally running through the ways she could get away. She’d probably break her legs if she jumped off the balcony, but she’d rather do that than get arrested.

  ‘Papa, it’s true,’ called Tatiana, as she emerged from the TV room at the other end of the hall. ‘She has been fixing the heater.’

  ‘Why on earth would you allow a juvenile delinquent into our home?’ demanded the Inspector.

  ‘Because I wanted to take a shower,’ said Tatiana with a shrug. Ian had followed her out to the kitchen.

  ‘You,’ said the Inspector with deep loathing.

  This Friday could understand. Ian must be every father’s worst nightmare as a boyfriend for his daughter.

  ‘How did you go?’ Ian asked Friday.

  ‘All fixed,’ said Friday.

  ‘Eccellente!’ said Mrs Benatti. She had come out of her sitting room to see.

  ‘What was wrong with it?’ asked Ian.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Friday.

  ‘Again!’ exclaimed the Inspector. ‘Apparently even Leonardo da Vinci couldn’t fix our mysterious water heater it is so complicated and impossible to understand.’

  ‘No,’ said Friday. ‘There is nothing complicated about it. Your water heater is in perfect working order.’

  ‘That is blatantly untrue,’ said the Inspector. ‘It breaks down two or three times a week, every week. So, you are saying it miraculously cures itself?’

  ‘In a way it does,’ said Friday.

  ‘Friday, this is not the time to mess about with riddles,’ said Ian. ‘If you know what is going on, just explain.’