Italian Romance by Jayne Castel Page B

appreciating,” Luisa replied sharply, “like I said, they stare
like you're a thing, not a person!”
    Catanese
frowned, “There are men here who are disrespectful to women, who make crude
comments and who leer on the street – but aren't there men like that everywhere?”
    “Not
where I come from,” Luisa replied, before admitting, “at least not so
obviously.”
    Catanese
finished pouring the beer and handed Luisa her glass.
    “I'm
sorry you've obviously had such a rough time here in Naples. It can be an
aggressive city and you have seen the worst of it. Please believe me though
that we are not all the same.”
    Luisa
did not reply. Now she felt like a bigot. With a sigh, she picked up a slice of
pizza and took a bite. She was so hungry she could hardly think straight.
    The
pizza was delicious – with the typical Neapolitan thick-crust, oozing with mozzarella
and slices of spicy salami. The beer was ice-cold and the perfect
accompaniment. For a few minutes, Luisa forgot all about her terrible day, or
the fact her dream holiday had turned into a nightmare. The men could be odious
here but the food was incredible.
    They
ate in silence for a few minutes before Valerio Catanese handed her a
serviette.
    “You've
got oil on your chin,” he said with a smile, “I'm glad you're enjoying your
pizza.”
    “It's
fantastic, thank you,” Luisa replied, wiping off the oil as daintily as she
could manage.
    Once
they finished their pizza, wiped the grease off their fingers and drained the
last dregs of beer, Catanese cleared the table and replaced his laptop. This
time, he took a seat next to Luisa so they could look through a database of mug
shots together. His closeness was distracting. They were not touching but Luisa
could feel the heat of his body and smell the faint scent of the aftershave he
had used that morning. She forced the butterflies that suddenly fluttered up
into her stomach, to settle, and focused her attention on the computer screen.
    “Take
your time,” Catanese instructed, “look at each face carefully before moving on
to the next.”
    Luisa
nodded. There was an array of thin-faced men to choose from – Catanese had used
her identikit to narrow the search. However, even among men of a similar age
and physique, there was a lot of variation. Next to her, Catanese remained
silent as Luisa scrolled down the page.
    The
evening stretched on. Outside, the odd burst of laughter from the street below,
or the rat-tat-tat of a scooter engine, intruded occasionally but Luisa was so
intent on her search that after a while she almost forgot the attractive police
inspector was sitting next to her. Eventually, nearly two hours after she had
started scrolling through the mug shots – after nearly two-hundred thin-faced
men – Luisa found him.
    “There!”
she sat back triumphant, pointing at the screen, “that's definitely him.”
    Catanese
leaned forward and double-clicked on the mug shot.
    “Mario
Ponte,” he read, “twenty-seven years old and a list of previous convictions,
most of them for robbery. He's typical of so many you find in their lower
ranks. He probably thought he was on easy-money until the day he realized they
owned him. I don't think he'll be hard to find.”
    “I
hope not,” Luisa replied, “because, just quietly, I won't be able to relax
until you arrest him.”
    Catanese
leaned back in his chair, stretched and closed the laptop.
    “Thank
you Luisa – I wish all witnesses had your memory and eye for detail. Mario
Ponte will be very useful to us.”
    Luisa
yawned, got to her feet and stretched. She was stiff from sitting in the same
position for hours and fatigue now pressed down upon her.
    “It's
late,” Commissario Catanese got to his feet and packed up his laptop, “and you
must be exhausted. Like I said, I'll be sleeping next door. If you need
anything just knock.”
    Luisa
sat on the edge of her bed and listened as the door next to hers shut gently
and she heard Catanese moving