Manaresi Ferruccio.
The shaft of light lit up the hospital file. A long list of medications, times and doses, with the doctors’ signatures beside them.
In his head, Angela’s voice suggested what he should be looking for: ‘Check the time when Odoacre went to Rome. Check whether, before he left, he suspended Fefe’s medication, and when they started
giving it to him again.’
Pierre gave a start.
The dates matched.
So did Dr Montroni’s signature.
Pierre understood.
Pierre felt his flesh creeping under his clothes.
Pierre felt sorry for Angela.
The day before he left for Rome, Montroni had suspended Ferruccio’s treatment.
Fefe’s ‘relapse’.
Montroni leaves the conference and comes back to look after the family.
The sainted Montroni solves everything.
The forceful husband saves his wife’s little brother.
His faithless wife who is cuckolding him with a filuzzi dancer.
His wife feels guilty and understands that she can’t live without Odoacre the Magnificent.
Another shiver. Cold sweat. Drips on his nose.
Fefe had worked it out.
Montroni’s dirty game. Fefe couldn’t tell anyone about it. Fefe was mad. Fefe wasn’t credible. Fefe was locked up. Angela was locked up too. Fefe was the weapon in the cuckolded husband’s hand.
Fefe couldn’t accept it. He loved his sister. He didn’t want to be the cause of her unhappiness.
Bloody hell!
Pierre staggered, suppressed a coughing fit.
He felt nausea rising from his stomach.
He felt disgust in his throat, he felt dizzy.
Fefe hadn’t wanted to accept it.
Fefe hadn’t yielded.
Fefe had decided to take revenge on his brother-in-law.
In the only way possible.
By taking his weapon out of his hands.
Chapter 34
Lake of San Giovanni Incarico, 18 June
She’s asleep.
She says she’s very tired, that she was working until late.
Hell, what’s a bloke to do?
You go and pick her up in a custom-built car that looks like a speedboat. The car that belongs to Stiv, that big guy, lent specially for the occasion. That is, not actually for Lisetta, in fact if he finds out I’ve taken anyone with me, he’s quite capable of shooting me. In my pocket I’ve still got the piece of paper he gave me along with the keys, poor Stiv, so I’m sure I won’t forget anything.
Salvatore, I want no crap from you. These are the keys of my car. It’s in the courtyard of my building, in Corso Vittorio Emanuele. Take it. You’ll go to Frosinone, straight there, find Cammarota, ask for the television and come back straight away. Go on your own. Don’t talk to anyone. Not a word. I’ll go out in a few days. If you scratch the car, you can forget your winnings. So no crap, ok?
When she’s asleep, Lisetta is really beautiful. Mamma mia, I’ll have to think straight, because I really don’t want to hurt Lisetta.
But the car made no impression on her, except for the first five minutes.
‘Totore! And where are we going in this lovely car?’
‘We’re going for a drive, I told you.’
‘A drive? Dressed like that?’
Nothing. She hadn’t even been impressed by the linen jacket, damn it. If it had been the monkey suit I was wearing at the casino, which even that goddess with the golden skin noticed, then she’d have been all over me, I wouldn’t have had time to open my mouth. But Stiv had just hired that one, you could hardly say it was his fault, must have cost a packet, and as a reward he got this one for me, luxury goods, so you might say I bought it myself with those famous winnings of mine. Not a bit of it: Lisetta just had a good laugh because I was taking her to Frosinone in my best bib and tucker.
‘And what are we going to do in Frosinone? What’s nice there?’
‘I don’t know. Let’s go and find out.’
‘Sorry, Totore, why don’t we stop by the sea? It’s boiling!’
‘Lisetta, I’ve got some things to sort out in Frosinone, ok? Afterwards we can go wherever you like.
The car drives like a dream, you’ve cleaned it and polished it and you’re dressed better than you were dressed on your first communion. But she, Lisetta, is thinking about the heat. She’s thinking about the sea. She’s thinking that Frosinone is too far away.
So start with the story of those incredible days spent with big-guy Steve; just being around him meant more things happened than you’d expect in a lifetime. Tons of money, you couldn’t even say how much, this game, chemin, where you’ve always got to put down nine, and that Chinaman who lost and lost without so much as a murmur, you’d never heard that Chinamen were so rich, he must have been the King of Siam at the very least.
‘You won a heap of money and you didn’t even bring me back a present?’
‘What? No, Lisetta, what are you saying, it’s just that you see I can’t use that money yet. It’s mine, of course it is, but you know what happens, word gets round, Salvatore’s got a bag of cash, and all of a sudden some no-mark decides to come and rob him, or worse, cut Pagano’s throat, or even kidnap someone he’s fond of, you get me, you know how these things are, and I’m an orphan, I’ve got no one, but just imagine we’d been seen together a few times, and someone thought you were my girlfriend, the very idea that they might hurt you.
You arrive in Formia, you take the inland road, you take off your jacket and tie, open the buttons of your shirt, which just makes the heat even worse. Lisetta’s in a sulk, you’ve just left the coast and the sea’s behind you now. You play your last card, the cinema, the scene of the fight in the flowers, with that famous American actor, a big movie that’s going to be shown all around Italy, all around the world, and then who knows how many other directors will notice this tough young lad, that athletic jump, those oh-so realistic punches. That’s how it starts, becoming a great actor, opportunities like that open the gates of Cinecittà, yes sir, Salvatore Pagano, the guy in the fight among the flowers, that’s me, an unforgettable, historic scene.
This time she looks at you differently. You seem to have struck home.
‘And what’s the title of this famous film of yours?’
‘Ah, Lisetta, you know I have no memory for names, and anyway it was a complicated, American name, and here in Italy they’re bound to call it something else anyway, but I’ve written it down on a little piece of paper, the title and the name of the star, the greatest of them all, and before you say his name you have to wash your mouth out with soap, and he was there next to me, close as you are, you know? And the director, you won’t believe this, Winston Churchill, of all people. ’
‘Churchill? Totore, what the.? And I was starting to believe you there!’
Lisetta had started sulking again. Hell, maybe you’d got everything wrong. Maybe you should have gone to Frosinone on your own, then dropped by to pick her up and take her to the sea, and then it might have worked, even if the car, beautiful, gleaming, luxurious, wasn’t really yours, your clothes weren’t right for an outing to the country, Stiv had the casino money and you couldn’t even remember the title of the film and it wasn’t going to come out until next year. What can you do?
Yes, without a doubt it would have been better that way.
When you got to Frosinone Lisetta had put her foot down and said she didn’t want to stay in the car, not even for half an hour, and there was nothing to see in this yokelish countryside and if you didn’t bring her back straight away then you were a yokel too.