wasn’t the right moment.
The regular concierge wasn’t at the gate; she was probably already on her way to India. In her place was a polite young woman who resembled her—her daughter, I assumed. I was smoking when I got to the green gate. I showed her my police badge and entered with the cigarette still in my mouth. I wasn’t Angelo Dioguardi’s friend this time; I was the police. Just let Count Tommaso dei Banchi di Aglieno try to impose his medieval rules and regulations on me.
The reflection from Building A told me that Manfredi was on the lookout. I was in such a bad mood that I almost pointed in his direction to threaten him. Instead, I waved my cigarette in greeting. I hoped he would tell his arrogant shithead of a father. I knew all this aggression was motivated by feeling liked I’d come off looking stupid during my single brief encounter with the count. Knowing that only made me angrier.
Capuzzo was waiting for me in Angelo’s office. My friend looked as if he’d slept little and badly—dark circles under his bloodshot blue eyes. He was unshaven, and his hair stuck out all over.
It was really too much. I took him to one side.
“What the hell’s gotten into you, Angelo?”
He shook his head.
“We’re assholes, Michele. Such assholes.”
“Why, because we didn’t do anything last night? Elisa’s out with some guy, I’m sure.”
“You really are an asshole,” he said to me.
He’d never insulted me like that before. I decided to let it go. He was sensitive, that was all.
“So, Capuzzo, who saw the girl last?”
“We don’t know, Captain.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“Her time card was stamped six-thirty, but Signor Dioguardi told us that he went away at six-fifteen with you and the cardinal, and the only people who live in the other building left at the same time. The young priest, Father Paul, had already left when you arrived, and the concierge went to mass at six, then took a bus to the airport. She was seen in church, but the village where she’s staying in India has no telephone, so—”
I interrupted him.
“Okay, Elisa left a little after we did, two hours before the final, planning to go home and join her parents. Then she probably ran into someone she knew. He whisked her away to watch the game at his beach house, and she’s still there with him recuperating after a long night.”
“No,” Angelo said, giving me a dark look.
“No? How do you know?”
“I already told you, Elisa’s not that type.”
I grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to one side. “Listen, you might fall for that shit, but I know a lot more about women than you do. Elisa the saint spent Sunday night fucking some lucky bastard. And tonight she’ll come home all apologetic.”
Angelo turned his back on me and left the room.
“Go fuck yourself, Angelo Dioguardi!” I shouted after him.
Capuzzo looked on, appalled.
“She’s an adult, Capuzzo, and the law is clear. We can’t do anything until there’s an official report. Yesterday the concierge told us she saw Elisa after five, just before Angelo and I arrived. Even if she punched out at six thirty, let’s say she disappeared at five. Get a photo from her mother. It should be easy to find a good one. Just don’t get a photo of Elisa in a bathing suit or we’ll have thousands of reports from perverts. Her face is unforgettable all by itself.”
I carefully avoided mentioning that I’d spoken to her on the phone myself around five o’clock, a few minutes before Angelo came to pick me up at the station.
Capuzzo took notes. “Captain, what should I tell her parents and that priest?”
“Tell them that these are the procedures and it’s a free country and not a Church state. And tell them to get off my back.”
I left without saying good-bye. I was angry with Angelo and irritated with Cardinal Alessandrini.
Next to the fountain was the skinny kid with the glasses I’d seen with Elisa from Angelo’s office
The regular concierge wasn’t at the gate; she was probably already on her way to India. In her place was a polite young woman who resembled her—her daughter, I assumed. I was smoking when I got to the green gate. I showed her my police badge and entered with the cigarette still in my mouth. I wasn’t Angelo Dioguardi’s friend this time; I was the police. Just let Count Tommaso dei Banchi di Aglieno try to impose his medieval rules and regulations on me.
The reflection from Building A told me that Manfredi was on the lookout. I was in such a bad mood that I almost pointed in his direction to threaten him. Instead, I waved my cigarette in greeting. I hoped he would tell his arrogant shithead of a father. I knew all this aggression was motivated by feeling liked I’d come off looking stupid during my single brief encounter with the count. Knowing that only made me angrier.
Capuzzo was waiting for me in Angelo’s office. My friend looked as if he’d slept little and badly—dark circles under his bloodshot blue eyes. He was unshaven, and his hair stuck out all over.
It was really too much. I took him to one side.
“What the hell’s gotten into you, Angelo?”
He shook his head.
“We’re assholes, Michele. Such assholes.”
“Why, because we didn’t do anything last night? Elisa’s out with some guy, I’m sure.”
“You really are an asshole,” he said to me.
He’d never insulted me like that before. I decided to let it go. He was sensitive, that was all.
“So, Capuzzo, who saw the girl last?”
“We don’t know, Captain.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“Her time card was stamped six-thirty, but Signor Dioguardi told us that he went away at six-fifteen with you and the cardinal, and the only people who live in the other building left at the same time. The young priest, Father Paul, had already left when you arrived, and the concierge went to mass at six, then took a bus to the airport. She was seen in church, but the village where she’s staying in India has no telephone, so—”
I interrupted him.
“Okay, Elisa left a little after we did, two hours before the final, planning to go home and join her parents. Then she probably ran into someone she knew. He whisked her away to watch the game at his beach house, and she’s still there with him recuperating after a long night.”
“No,” Angelo said, giving me a dark look.
“No? How do you know?”
“I already told you, Elisa’s not that type.”
I grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to one side. “Listen, you might fall for that shit, but I know a lot more about women than you do. Elisa the saint spent Sunday night fucking some lucky bastard. And tonight she’ll come home all apologetic.”
Angelo turned his back on me and left the room.
“Go fuck yourself, Angelo Dioguardi!” I shouted after him.
Capuzzo looked on, appalled.
“She’s an adult, Capuzzo, and the law is clear. We can’t do anything until there’s an official report. Yesterday the concierge told us she saw Elisa after five, just before Angelo and I arrived. Even if she punched out at six thirty, let’s say she disappeared at five. Get a photo from her mother. It should be easy to find a good one. Just don’t get a photo of Elisa in a bathing suit or we’ll have thousands of reports from perverts. Her face is unforgettable all by itself.”
I carefully avoided mentioning that I’d spoken to her on the phone myself around five o’clock, a few minutes before Angelo came to pick me up at the station.
Capuzzo took notes. “Captain, what should I tell her parents and that priest?”
“Tell them that these are the procedures and it’s a free country and not a Church state. And tell them to get off my back.”
I left without saying good-bye. I was angry with Angelo and irritated with Cardinal Alessandrini.
Next to the fountain was the skinny kid with the glasses I’d seen with Elisa from Angelo’s office
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