‘We’re leaving,’ she said. ‘You’re coming with me. We’re going to need some things.’
He didn’t move.
‘Now!’ she shouted at him. ‘They’ll be back. More of them. With papers this time. They never wanted to look before. I don’t know why…’
He ran down the folding ladder, took it step by ponderous step, stood next to her, tall, muscular, waiting.
‘This is your doing,’ she said. ‘You brought them here. They’ll be back. Maybe they think I killed him. Maybe…’
There was something about the old, silver-haired cop that bothered her. It was as if he wasn’t much interested in Ari or Tornabuoni at all. He was looking for something different altogether, and not seeing it.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t curious. ‘I’ll tell them what I did,’ he said. ‘You run. I’ll stay. They can take me.’
She laughed. ‘Oh, such a hero.’
His pale face, now beginning to grow stubble, become more human, watched her, puzzled, not knowing whether to be flattered or offended.
‘The job’s not done, is it?’ she said. ‘You know that. I thought I was alone. And now…’
Coincidences happened, and with them opportunities.
‘I want you to help me collect some weapons and some ammunition. What money we have. Then we take the van into the city. Dump it.’
The ideas kept racing through her head, so quickly she couldn’t possibly grasp all the flaws and lacunae.
‘We need somewhere to stay. Just tonight. That’s all. Where do you live?’
‘Nowhere.’
He closed his eyes and she felt a sudden and unwanted pang of sympathy. This question pained him. It was the first time she’d seen that in his face.
‘Aldo… Tomorrow. The first Thursday of the month.’
She stepped closer to him, touched his arm, not roughly, not possessively, but because she wanted to.
‘Ari and I were supposed to do it then. Don’t you understand? I didn’t dance there for the money. I did it to get inside. To see them at their worst. To think. To plan…’
She sighed.
‘And then the idiot goes and spoils it all through his stupid jealousy.’
Her hand reached out and touched his cheek.
‘You understand now? What was it you said? I shall spill flood waters upon the earth?’
‘You shall drown in them,’ he murmured, picking up the refrain. ‘And in that torrent shall flow your blood.’
‘Their blood,’ she said. ‘Not ours. I was alone. And here you are.’
He looked around the landing, at the bare floorboards and the bedrooms. ‘What weapons?’ he asked.
‘I’ll deal with that. We need somewhere to hide. We can’t stay in the van. They’ll have the number.’
He didn’t move, didn’t speak.
‘We’ve got to leave. You’re from the city. Find us somewhere…’
‘How long?’ he asked.
‘A night. That’s all.’
‘And then?’
She smiled. There never was an after. Not in any of their plans. Only a present, and an objective. ‘And then… I don’t know,’ she said. ‘We’ll see.’
Cassini’s radio stayed resolutely useless. They had to drive to the centre of Fiesole, the modest Piazza Mino, before they found a working phone box.
Fratelli rummaged through his pockets, then looked at them and said, ‘Moneta, moneta!’
Cassini held out a pocketful of change.
‘I should have a squad car here with a radio that works,’ Fratelli muttered, taking the coins without a word of thanks. ‘And a team of men. Dogs. Specialists.’
‘Civilians don’t get them,’ Cassini said patiently. ‘Or have you forgotten?’
‘For how much longer? We shall see! There’s a café over there. Get yourselves something to drink. I’ll join you.’
‘If you’re calling Walter Marrone, I’m the only serving Carabinieri officer here,’ Cassini objected. ‘I’m not being left out…’
‘Would you let Julia buy her own coffee then? Off with you. There are no secrets. I’m merely briefing our friendly captain. I’ll report back in a minute or two. A macchiato for me. It won’t take long.’
A bright, broad grin and then he marched over to the phone, waving at them as they slunk off to the café.
It took a little persuasion with the switchboard before he was through.
‘Walter!’
‘Oh, wonderful,’ Marrone grumbled.
‘Don’t sound so glum. I have news about the Tornabuoni murder! You must send me a squad car to the Piazza Mino in Fiesole immediately. No. Make that two. Armed officers please. And some men with spades and dogs I think…’
Silence. Then a small explosion occurred in the handset. Fratelli held it away from him.
‘Tornabuoni!’ Marrone roared. ‘I gave you that boy so you and your English girlfriend could play detectives over that nonsense in the Brancacci. Not poke your noses into a murder case…’
‘And if the two are linked?’
‘They’re not.’
‘But if they are?’
‘Where the hell are you? What are you doing with that fool Cassini?’
‘Two weeks ago, a dubious hippie named Aristide Greco was found shot dead in Rovezzano. Our friend Tornabuoni was the preliminary suspect.’
Silence.
‘I am, of course, telling you nothing you don’t know,’ Fratelli added. ‘As you remind me constantly, you’re captain of the stazione and nothing escapes your scrutiny.’
‘So?’ Marrone demanded.
‘So I’ve paid Greco’s widow a visit. Which is more than any of your officers have done…’
‘The woman was interviewed here and told us nothing. Tornabuoni’s connection to the case was entirely coincidental. A misunderstanding. He was released the moment that was apparent.’
Fratelli could picture Marrone speaking these words. He was such a terrible liar, the effort it cost him was even audible in his voice.
‘What was misunderstood?’ he asked.
‘None of your damned business. Get back here. Bring me that boy. My generosity’s over.’
‘The widow’s got something to hide, Walter. I believe she understands full well who killed her husband, doubtless over some drug deal. We both know Tornabuoni dabbled there.’
‘I will not allow this…’
‘Send me two cars. Take her into custody. Allow me to search her farmhouse and the surrounding land. An afternoon at most. At the end of it I will give you some answers.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake!’
‘Don’t get snappy with me. You were just as dubious over that bastard butcher in Scandicci. And the widow Bartolini’s chihuahuas…’
‘If you throw those bloody chihuahuas at me one more time, I swear—’
‘A breakthrough, Walter! I’m offering you a lead, for God’s sake.’
A pause. There was, he thought, perhaps a grim chuckle too.
‘I don’t need your lead, thank you very much. The Tornabuoni case is solved. The gardener confessed…’
Fratelli took a deep breath, then stamped his fist on the phone box wall. ‘Oh! Oh! And can’t I imagine what kind of interrogation that was? Your two monkeys from this morning, was it? What did they use this time? A hood? A few discreet punches…?’
‘I would have thrown you out of the Carabinieri before long anyway, you know,’ Marrone said in a low, cold voice. ‘Whether you were dying or not. Your attitude towards your colleagues…’
‘You’re the one who gave me Luca Cassini because you thought he was an idiot. Don’t play those games…’
‘Tell Cassini to report back to the stazione immediately. You and your English mistress can go and play your games elsewhere…’
‘Will you kindly stop saying that?’