Viper

Under pressure, Sorrentino had finally decided that it was worth giving GPRS a go and had given strict instructions for every inch of the gridded area to be meticulously swept. 'Go over it like you are brushing your beautiful teeth. Then when I arrive you can show me something that will make my smile as wonderful as yours,' he'd told her. Typical Sorrentino.

Luella walked the safe corridor that had been established to protect evidence gained from the old excavation site and headed into a new section of the grid. Carabinieri officer Dino Gallo, two of his colleagues and two of hers followed. They brought with them the GPR system and also a set of state-of-the-art airspades.

'Last year, I dug up a body near Ischia,' Gallo confided as they walked. He was thin and suntanned; Luella thought he'd look better if he put on a little weight.

'Complicated?' she asked, happy to make small talk.

'No. We had all the right equipment, all the things you requested today, but we never needed it.'

'Sounds like you were lucky.'

'In some ways yes, in some ways no. The body was buried in a shallow grave.' Dino Gallo was keen to make an impression on the pretty anthropologist. 'As you probably know, in cases when the corpse is only about eighteen inches below the surface, you can usually start smelling the body after around seventeen days.'

Luella paused and took a check on where she wanted to start the sweep. 'You're right. The smell comes from dozens of different gas compounds released during decomposition.' She looked mischievously at him. 'Your expert carabinieri nose will no doubt have picked up on some of them.'

Gallo had a smile that broke hearts. 'My nose would rather smell roses over a dinner table, with you sitting on the other side.'

'I'm sure it would,' laughed Luella, well used to flattery, 'but for now I would like it sniffing over those boxes as we unpack them. Any chance?'

'Your wish is my command.' He added a perfect, military-trained bow.

Luella's colleague Giulietta was fitted into the harness containing the antenna and got ready to start her pre-mapped walk of the grid. Gallo finished wiring the monitor and the rest of the rig.

'One minute!' shouted Luella, doing a final systems check before giving her colleague the cue to start walking. 'Okay, off you go.'

Every hour, Giulietta switched with her other colleague, Emilio. Every two hours they took a break and talked. Every half-hour it rained. Every three-quarters of an hour Dino Gallo suggested different restaurants, clubs, parks and places he would like to take Luella to. After six hours she was on the verge of giving in and consenting to dinner.

Then the call came.

Luella took off her rubber gloves, grateful for the cool air on her hands. She pulled the cellphone out of the pocket of her overalls.

The voice on the other end – the coordinator from her office – said she was being put through to Capitano Tomms, who was at Sorrentino's home.

Luella listened carefully but couldn't believe what she'd been told.

Bernardo was dead.

73

Santa Lucia, Napoli Sorrentino had been found by his housekeeper.

Dead in the middle of his waterbed.

Blood and water all over the place.

Bella Di Lazio had taken her weekly money off the worktop, rung the cops and gone home.

She wouldn't weep for him. He'd been mean and arrogant. Hadn't given her a pay rise or a tip in the two years she'd worked for him. Good riddance.

Less than two hours after Bella had gone, the ME had already completed his visit.

Sylvia Tomms arrived with her brain still reeling from all the other developments – Creed; the Tortoricci murder; the killings at the Castellani camp; and of course Franco, the runaway cousin.

Lieutenant Marco Vassopolus – known by all who couldn't remember how to say or spell his surname as Marco V – showed her around the scene. 'Housekeeper found him like this. Bullet wound to the skull. Silencer. No forced entry.'

'ME give you time of death?'

Marco shook his head. 'Still fixing it. He did a partial on the body, said by the cooling he reckoned it might be ten to twelve hours ago.'

Sylvia checked her watch. 'Late night, early morning by the sound of it.' She walked the protective transparent sheets around the deflated, blood-soaked waterbed where the corpse still lay. It looked like Sorrentino had fallen into the mouth of a giant man-eating plant. Something straight out of Beetlejuice.

'The guy was a skunk, but he didn't deserve this.' She bent over the body. 'When will the van be here to move him?'

'Next thirty minutes. Morgue said they'll ring when it's on its way.'

Sylvia peered at Sorrentino's waxy face. His jet-black hair was now plastered in the crimson gel of his own blood. 'Hard to think that he was such a playboy. Tried it on with everything in a dress. Even me. Guess dying on his bed is somehow appropriate.'

'Exhibits team said they found a lot of – you know – erotica, around the place.'

'Erotica?' Sylvia laughed. 'Any chance of being more precise?'

He coloured a little. 'Lubricants, lotions, velvet handcuffs -'

'Velvet, eh? Imagine if we had those as standard issue. Any letters or diaries?'

'No letters. We found some address books. Not one black book, but two – well, actually they were red and green address books.'

'Let me guess, one for work, one for pleasure?'

'Both pleasure. The green one was for women he'd slept with – complete with ratings out of ten – the red one was for those he was still hunting.'

'Yeah, well, I guess all of us reds can heave a sigh of relief.' Sylvia grimaced as she looked closer at Sorrentino's empty eyes and pale-blue lips.

'The bed's blown out but he wasn't popped on the mattress,' said Marco. 'Look near the edge and you can see where the perp slit it with something after he dropped the vic there.'

Marco always talked in American cop jargon and it irritated the hell out of her. She'd have picked another lieutenant if there had been any others to pick. Some of her homicide squad were currently working more cases than she was, and to top it all Pietro had called in sick.

'Where exactly was he when he got shot?' asked Sylvia, noticing no powder burn marks on Sorrentino's face. 'From the size and shape of the flesh wound it looks as though he was more than a metre away. Am I right?'

'Doc said the same – though he didn't stay long. He had another case to get to. Said he'd do his notes on this one when he got back to the lab.'

'Who was it?'

'Larusso.'

Sylvia slapped her forehead. 'Was he sober?'

Marco V shrugged. It was about as diplomatic as he could manage.

Sylvia said what they were both thinking. 'That man's a disgrace. He should run a wine cellar not a Medical Examiner's desk. What else did he say?'

Marco motioned his boss around the circular bed towards the doorway. 'See the spatter up the wall? Larusso thinks the shooter took Sorrentino out just after he entered the bedroom. Light switch is interior left side of the door. Il Grande Leone comes in the darkened room, pops on the switch, takes a few paces forward and then, blam! That's the way he thinks it went down.'

Sylvia studied the spatter marks. She wasn't so sure. Sorrentino was a tall guy. Six foot, maybe six-one. The blood had sprayed vertically, not horizontally. 'Look at the cornice and the ceiling,' she said. 'We've got spray up there and…' she looked closer, wrinkled her face and added, 'what also looks like part of his once great brain. See the grey matter, clinging to the bottom of the cornice?'

Marco cringed. 'I see it.'

Sylvia paced around again; her feet in slip-ons, similar to the plastic clogs surgeons wear. 'Get the techies to send me the first reports when they've run a laser trajectory kit over it.' She pulled up beneath the blood spray and examined the area at her feet. 'This carpet's all fucked up with blood, but look at the wall. This brown spot here around waist height looks like something else, maybe a trace of faeces. Did the great La-fucking-Russo sniff this one out?'