he switched off the light.
‘Too much for it to be his own. Kids like him are often used as small-time pushers, selling to their clients. But what’s the use? The prison’s choc-a-bloc and putting him inside would only serve to shorten his life. By the look of him he hasn’t got much of a life expectancy as it is—Lord, what a stink of perfume. I’ll open the window.’
They sat down together at the desk and looked at the results of their night’s work: a list of names and addresses, a packet of heroin and a large diamond ring.
‘It was stolen, then?’
‘The ring?’ Ferrini laughed. ‘Yes and no. It’s listed as having been stolen from a very well known Florentine jeweller. On the other hand, the very well known Florentine jeweller is a regular customer of Titi’s—I’ve seen them together in his Mercedes many a time. No doubt he thought he could be clever enough to make Titi a fancy present and claim it on his insurance.’
‘What will you do?’
‘Give it back to him and leave the rest to Titi, who was none too pleased, I can tell you. He’ll get it in the neck next time they get together.’ Again he laughed. ‘It’s a rum world!’
He fished in his pocket and pulled out a rather squashed packet of cigarettes. The Marshal watched him light up. He liked this man, so very different from himself. A relaxed, comfortable, grey-haired man who laughed so easily and could chatter away to anybody, even to those . . .
‘Is something wrong?’
‘No, no . . .’ The Marshal pulled himself together. ‘I’m dropping with sleep, to tell you the truth.’
‘Not used to these long nights, eh?’
‘No, not at all. I was thinking . . . well, it’s a good job you are used to . . . I don’t know much about this sort of thing, I don’t mind telling you, and as for running this case . . .’
‘Oh, you’ll soon get into it.’
The Marshal wasn’t at all sure that he wanted to ‘get into it’ but he didn’t say so. He only said, ‘That quarrel that broke out, for instance, about the boy—’
‘Ah yes. Thanks for getting him out of the way or all hell would have broken loose!’
‘But why?’ the Marshal insisted.
‘Why? Because he was a transvestite. They don’t think much of transvestites, our friends.’
‘I see.’ It was clear from the Marshal’s large, puzzled eyes that he didn’t see at all. ‘It’s just that, to be honest, I thought they were all transvestites.’
‘Transsexuals. Half-way house, as it were. You get some transvestites with these silicone breasts like that kid but they’re not on any hormone treatment, still got normal male hormones, body hair and so on and certainly still think of themselves as men. Your transsexual, like our Titi, is a female or reckons to be— only one detail that’s anomalous. A lot of them reckon that once they’ve made enough money they’ll have the final operation and retire from business to be fully-fledged females.’
‘But . . . some of them seem to have plenty of money now . . .’
‘Oh, they have that, plenty. But they can’t have their source of income cut off, can they? Their customers wouldn’t want them any more.’
‘It beats me what they do want . . .’ The Marshal’s face was red.
‘De gustibus non disputandum.’
‘No, no . . .’
‘Right. Well we have a list here of who’s missing from the scene. Nobody, at first sight, who seems to be our victim as they’ve all got a reason for their absence, but we must check all those reasons out. I’ll start first thing tomorrow morning with Gigi and Lulu who should be in the clinic in Spain, make sure they’re there. Sorry— you should be deciding, but I thought as I know the surgeon . . .’
‘Whatever you think . . . What surgeon?’
‘The one who does their breasts. They all go to the same clinic in Spain. I’ve talked to this chap before when I was working on the last two cases, so he knows who I am.’
‘Then you do it, yes. How many of these cases
‘Too much for it to be his own. Kids like him are often used as small-time pushers, selling to their clients. But what’s the use? The prison’s choc-a-bloc and putting him inside would only serve to shorten his life. By the look of him he hasn’t got much of a life expectancy as it is—Lord, what a stink of perfume. I’ll open the window.’
They sat down together at the desk and looked at the results of their night’s work: a list of names and addresses, a packet of heroin and a large diamond ring.
‘It was stolen, then?’
‘The ring?’ Ferrini laughed. ‘Yes and no. It’s listed as having been stolen from a very well known Florentine jeweller. On the other hand, the very well known Florentine jeweller is a regular customer of Titi’s—I’ve seen them together in his Mercedes many a time. No doubt he thought he could be clever enough to make Titi a fancy present and claim it on his insurance.’
‘What will you do?’
‘Give it back to him and leave the rest to Titi, who was none too pleased, I can tell you. He’ll get it in the neck next time they get together.’ Again he laughed. ‘It’s a rum world!’
He fished in his pocket and pulled out a rather squashed packet of cigarettes. The Marshal watched him light up. He liked this man, so very different from himself. A relaxed, comfortable, grey-haired man who laughed so easily and could chatter away to anybody, even to those . . .
‘Is something wrong?’
‘No, no . . .’ The Marshal pulled himself together. ‘I’m dropping with sleep, to tell you the truth.’
‘Not used to these long nights, eh?’
‘No, not at all. I was thinking . . . well, it’s a good job you are used to . . . I don’t know much about this sort of thing, I don’t mind telling you, and as for running this case . . .’
‘Oh, you’ll soon get into it.’
The Marshal wasn’t at all sure that he wanted to ‘get into it’ but he didn’t say so. He only said, ‘That quarrel that broke out, for instance, about the boy—’
‘Ah yes. Thanks for getting him out of the way or all hell would have broken loose!’
‘But why?’ the Marshal insisted.
‘Why? Because he was a transvestite. They don’t think much of transvestites, our friends.’
‘I see.’ It was clear from the Marshal’s large, puzzled eyes that he didn’t see at all. ‘It’s just that, to be honest, I thought they were all transvestites.’
‘Transsexuals. Half-way house, as it were. You get some transvestites with these silicone breasts like that kid but they’re not on any hormone treatment, still got normal male hormones, body hair and so on and certainly still think of themselves as men. Your transsexual, like our Titi, is a female or reckons to be— only one detail that’s anomalous. A lot of them reckon that once they’ve made enough money they’ll have the final operation and retire from business to be fully-fledged females.’
‘But . . . some of them seem to have plenty of money now . . .’
‘Oh, they have that, plenty. But they can’t have their source of income cut off, can they? Their customers wouldn’t want them any more.’
‘It beats me what they do want . . .’ The Marshal’s face was red.
‘De gustibus non disputandum.’
‘No, no . . .’
‘Right. Well we have a list here of who’s missing from the scene. Nobody, at first sight, who seems to be our victim as they’ve all got a reason for their absence, but we must check all those reasons out. I’ll start first thing tomorrow morning with Gigi and Lulu who should be in the clinic in Spain, make sure they’re there. Sorry— you should be deciding, but I thought as I know the surgeon . . .’
‘Whatever you think . . . What surgeon?’
‘The one who does their breasts. They all go to the same clinic in Spain. I’ve talked to this chap before when I was working on the last two cases, so he knows who I am.’
‘Then you do it, yes. How many of these cases
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