way out of the clinic.
So what I did is I screwed the tube onto the gun, as I was telling you. It’s simply spectacular, I’ve tried it lots of times at home, and what you hear is a sound like someone snapping their fingers. I’ve destroyed so many cushions, you can’t even imagine. One time, towards the end, I even thought of using it on her, so that I wouldn’t have to listen to her breath rattling away anymore. But then how would I have been able to finish what I needed to do so that I could see you again?
I put on my reading glasses, because I reckoned that when I extended my arm he’d be about a foot away when he lowered his head to lock the chain. The night before I’d given it a try, and he didn’t even sense the air from my hand. He was whistling a tune, all pleased with himself. I wonder why. He was happy yesterday too. At that age, my darling, everyone’s happy; there’s no other way to be.
I keep wandering off topic, but it’s because I’m so happy myself. At last, I’ve begun.
I’d been ready and waiting for two hours by the time he got there. Completely ready. In fact, every so often I had to put the gun back into my bag because my arm was getting tired. I’d rehearsed every detail so many times in my head that when I did it, it was as if I was merely thinking it one more time. He dropped his keys, he had to pick them up and that gave me a little extra time, three or four seconds longer than it usually took him. I aimed, just think, right at the corner of the angle that the barber razored in to shape that ridiculous hairdo of his. Then I walked away from there, and I only came back after a small crowd had assembled to see what had happened.
Then the police came. First one car, then two more. People were elbowing each other and talking, and I was there, with my shoulder bag, listening in. You know, my darling,
everyone detests the cops. They really hate them. And I didn’t sense any pity in the crowd for the boy; all they were wondering was who he was, but everyone was happy that it hadn’t happened to them. People are surely strange.
When the first car pulled up, two men got out, and I noticed one of them in particular. He moved slowly, unhurriedly, as if he were listening to a familiar piece of music. He went over to the nook and picked up something off the ground—I imagine the shell casing. Then he followed the same trajectory I had covered, looking at the ground as he went.
Don’t you worry about me, my darling. No one was watching me, as usual. You know, I never would have thought it, but apparently this is a city that really minds its own business. And I took care to set my feet down on their sides, to scrape my shoes off thoroughly: there were no prints. Still, the policeman followed in exactly the same direction.
Then he looked up at the little crowd of people where I was standing, and luckily I didn’t move. His eyes are narrow, you know, as if he were Chinese.
Then the others arrived, including a woman; I imagine she’s the assistant DA (but are prosecutors so young nowadays?). And they sent him away. That’s good, I thought. He seemed like the only one there that could figure anything out.
So anyway, sweetheart, my darling, everything is proceeding according to plan. I’m really quite satisfied.
Now it’s time to get started on the girl.
CHAPTER 17
So, you’ve decided you want to be a cop after all, eh?” said Giuffrè. “I heard you were a regular Serpico. And that you went head-to-head with none other than Di Vincenzo, himself, in person.”
Lojacono didn’t even look up from the monitor. What a miserable hand: all low numbers in different suits. This time you’re fucked, he thought to himself. This damned computer: it beat him systematically.
“I’m no Serpico. I happened to be here when a nighttime emergency call came in, so I responded. And I reported what I saw.”
Giuffrè had no intention of letting it drop; he was like a dog with a bone. For once,
So what I did is I screwed the tube onto the gun, as I was telling you. It’s simply spectacular, I’ve tried it lots of times at home, and what you hear is a sound like someone snapping their fingers. I’ve destroyed so many cushions, you can’t even imagine. One time, towards the end, I even thought of using it on her, so that I wouldn’t have to listen to her breath rattling away anymore. But then how would I have been able to finish what I needed to do so that I could see you again?
I put on my reading glasses, because I reckoned that when I extended my arm he’d be about a foot away when he lowered his head to lock the chain. The night before I’d given it a try, and he didn’t even sense the air from my hand. He was whistling a tune, all pleased with himself. I wonder why. He was happy yesterday too. At that age, my darling, everyone’s happy; there’s no other way to be.
I keep wandering off topic, but it’s because I’m so happy myself. At last, I’ve begun.
I’d been ready and waiting for two hours by the time he got there. Completely ready. In fact, every so often I had to put the gun back into my bag because my arm was getting tired. I’d rehearsed every detail so many times in my head that when I did it, it was as if I was merely thinking it one more time. He dropped his keys, he had to pick them up and that gave me a little extra time, three or four seconds longer than it usually took him. I aimed, just think, right at the corner of the angle that the barber razored in to shape that ridiculous hairdo of his. Then I walked away from there, and I only came back after a small crowd had assembled to see what had happened.
Then the police came. First one car, then two more. People were elbowing each other and talking, and I was there, with my shoulder bag, listening in. You know, my darling,
everyone detests the cops. They really hate them. And I didn’t sense any pity in the crowd for the boy; all they were wondering was who he was, but everyone was happy that it hadn’t happened to them. People are surely strange.
When the first car pulled up, two men got out, and I noticed one of them in particular. He moved slowly, unhurriedly, as if he were listening to a familiar piece of music. He went over to the nook and picked up something off the ground—I imagine the shell casing. Then he followed the same trajectory I had covered, looking at the ground as he went.
Don’t you worry about me, my darling. No one was watching me, as usual. You know, I never would have thought it, but apparently this is a city that really minds its own business. And I took care to set my feet down on their sides, to scrape my shoes off thoroughly: there were no prints. Still, the policeman followed in exactly the same direction.
Then he looked up at the little crowd of people where I was standing, and luckily I didn’t move. His eyes are narrow, you know, as if he were Chinese.
Then the others arrived, including a woman; I imagine she’s the assistant DA (but are prosecutors so young nowadays?). And they sent him away. That’s good, I thought. He seemed like the only one there that could figure anything out.
So anyway, sweetheart, my darling, everything is proceeding according to plan. I’m really quite satisfied.
Now it’s time to get started on the girl.
CHAPTER 17
So, you’ve decided you want to be a cop after all, eh?” said Giuffrè. “I heard you were a regular Serpico. And that you went head-to-head with none other than Di Vincenzo, himself, in person.”
Lojacono didn’t even look up from the monitor. What a miserable hand: all low numbers in different suits. This time you’re fucked, he thought to himself. This damned computer: it beat him systematically.
“I’m no Serpico. I happened to be here when a nighttime emergency call came in, so I responded. And I reported what I saw.”
Giuffrè had no intention of letting it drop; he was like a dog with a bone. For once,
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