offender is left-handed?’
Montesano looks amused. ‘Major, you are old enough to know that you
shouldn’t
presume anything.’
‘Okay, I stand corrected.’ Vito smiles and turns to his lieutenants. ‘
Without
presuming anything, let’s proactively consider it and also keep in mind that 87 per cent of the population of the world is right-handed. Anyone
left
-handed comes on to our radar, we should give them a very close look.’
Montesano picks up the point: ‘Please also remember that left-handedness is more common in males – particularly identical and fraternal twins – and in those withneurological disorders.’
‘Like what?’ asks Antonio.
‘Epilepsy, Down’s Syndrome, autism, mental retardation and even dyslexia.’
‘Duly noted,’ says Vito. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re most welcome.’
Keen to shift focus to an area he more readily understands, Vito asks, ‘Professore, do you have anything that tells us where she was and when she died?’
‘I do. The stomach contents show that her last meal was a seafood pizza, heavy on tomato paste and low on seafood. It will be a cheap tourist trattoria. I would say the meal was consumed about two hours before she died.’
‘Check it.’ Vito says to Valentina.
She raises an eyebrow. Her list of things to check will soon be longer than the Canal Grande.
Antonio cups his hand and whispers into her right ear, ‘I can do it for you. I don’t report until tomorrow lunchtime.’ He glances towards the ME. ‘Can you tell us the time of death?’
Montesano looks irritated. ‘Young man, you’ve been watching too many movies and reading too many second-rate thrillers. Pathologists cannot discern a time of death by simply looking at a body like a gypsy looks at tea-leaves. In cases like this it is enormously difficult to establish time of death with accuracy.’
Vito saves Antonio further pain by turning again to Valentina. ‘What time did that old fishmonger find her?’
‘Somewhere around five-thirty a.m.’
‘That’s the base to start building your timeline back from, Antonio. Find the place where she ate the pizza, check the father’s testimony again on when they split up, and you’ll have pinpointed the window of death.’ He looks to the Professore again. ‘You said there were two startlingly unusual features about the case. What’s the other?’
Montesano scratches an itch under his glasses. ‘The girl’s liver is missing.’
‘What?’
The ME enunciates the words. ‘Her –
liver
– is –
missing
.’
‘You’re sure?’
Montesano glares at him. ‘Major, of course I am
sure
.’ He couldn’t look more offended. ‘I know what a liver looks like, and I promise you, there is no mistake, it is missing. It has been cut from her body.’
CHAPTER 13
Luna Hotel Baglioni, Venice
Too much wine has left Tomdizzy and deliciously mellow. The tension from the last twelve hours is fading as quickly as any doubts he might have had about where he is now – lying on his back on a bed that’s bigger, softer and more expensive than any he’s ever known.
The air smells of flowers. Lilies in small vases either side of the king-size bed. There’s the sound of running water in the background. Not a tap, not a bath, but a shower. It’s full on, beating hard in a marble cubicle. When it stops, he sits up and sees Tina approaching in a white towelling robe that looks too big for her. She shakes her long blonde hair out of the scrunchie she’d bunched it in, and looks wonderful. Her eyes are filled with a gentleness that melts his inhibitions. ‘Come on. Let’s get you scrubbed up.’ She pulls him by the hand and the room tilts as she leads him to the en-suite. The light is too bright. She deftly flicks a switch that kills the overheads and leaves them standing in a softer glow from candles near the sink. Tom starts to unbutton his shirt. She kisses his neck and moves his hands. Her fingertips trip down the fastenings and it falls from
Montesano looks amused. ‘Major, you are old enough to know that you
shouldn’t
presume anything.’
‘Okay, I stand corrected.’ Vito smiles and turns to his lieutenants. ‘
Without
presuming anything, let’s proactively consider it and also keep in mind that 87 per cent of the population of the world is right-handed. Anyone
left
-handed comes on to our radar, we should give them a very close look.’
Montesano picks up the point: ‘Please also remember that left-handedness is more common in males – particularly identical and fraternal twins – and in those withneurological disorders.’
‘Like what?’ asks Antonio.
‘Epilepsy, Down’s Syndrome, autism, mental retardation and even dyslexia.’
‘Duly noted,’ says Vito. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re most welcome.’
Keen to shift focus to an area he more readily understands, Vito asks, ‘Professore, do you have anything that tells us where she was and when she died?’
‘I do. The stomach contents show that her last meal was a seafood pizza, heavy on tomato paste and low on seafood. It will be a cheap tourist trattoria. I would say the meal was consumed about two hours before she died.’
‘Check it.’ Vito says to Valentina.
She raises an eyebrow. Her list of things to check will soon be longer than the Canal Grande.
Antonio cups his hand and whispers into her right ear, ‘I can do it for you. I don’t report until tomorrow lunchtime.’ He glances towards the ME. ‘Can you tell us the time of death?’
Montesano looks irritated. ‘Young man, you’ve been watching too many movies and reading too many second-rate thrillers. Pathologists cannot discern a time of death by simply looking at a body like a gypsy looks at tea-leaves. In cases like this it is enormously difficult to establish time of death with accuracy.’
Vito saves Antonio further pain by turning again to Valentina. ‘What time did that old fishmonger find her?’
‘Somewhere around five-thirty a.m.’
‘That’s the base to start building your timeline back from, Antonio. Find the place where she ate the pizza, check the father’s testimony again on when they split up, and you’ll have pinpointed the window of death.’ He looks to the Professore again. ‘You said there were two startlingly unusual features about the case. What’s the other?’
Montesano scratches an itch under his glasses. ‘The girl’s liver is missing.’
‘What?’
The ME enunciates the words. ‘Her –
liver
– is –
missing
.’
‘You’re sure?’
Montesano glares at him. ‘Major, of course I am
sure
.’ He couldn’t look more offended. ‘I know what a liver looks like, and I promise you, there is no mistake, it is missing. It has been cut from her body.’
CHAPTER 13
Luna Hotel Baglioni, Venice
Too much wine has left Tomdizzy and deliciously mellow. The tension from the last twelve hours is fading as quickly as any doubts he might have had about where he is now – lying on his back on a bed that’s bigger, softer and more expensive than any he’s ever known.
The air smells of flowers. Lilies in small vases either side of the king-size bed. There’s the sound of running water in the background. Not a tap, not a bath, but a shower. It’s full on, beating hard in a marble cubicle. When it stops, he sits up and sees Tina approaching in a white towelling robe that looks too big for her. She shakes her long blonde hair out of the scrunchie she’d bunched it in, and looks wonderful. Her eyes are filled with a gentleness that melts his inhibitions. ‘Come on. Let’s get you scrubbed up.’ She pulls him by the hand and the room tilts as she leads him to the en-suite. The light is too bright. She deftly flicks a switch that kills the overheads and leaves them standing in a softer glow from candles near the sink. Tom starts to unbutton his shirt. She kisses his neck and moves his hands. Her fingertips trip down the fastenings and it falls from
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