If you'd seen one Leaning Tower, you'd seen them all. Hetty had seen the leaning spire at Chesterfield: the tower of Pisa was nothing so special. She was in a picky mood and had been since the start of their trip in a made-over charabanc with time-expired tires, touring Tuscany with the Outhwaites and twenty-six Senior Citizen from the Blackburn/Darwen/Bolton area, all of whom already seemed to be confused by the persistent rain in sunny Italy.
And what was happening to the Wainthropp Detective Agency with its founder gallivanting abroad? Could Geoffrey be trusted keep it ticking over? Thus Hetty fretted, not knowing that in a few short hours she would be plunged into mystery, excitement – and possible Mafia connection.
