Barbara is back. She’s taken off her jacket, settled into her heavy wool shawl, and prepared herself a cup of herbal tea. She’s sitting at the table in the barroom. The sound of the pipes, that roar again. Akan must be up, taking another shower. He’s constantly washing himself, at least three showers a day.
On the table in front of her is her phone. The conversation that just ended went as badly as she could have imagined.
TWO
Katerina leaves the house early. Gerri has been acting strange for a few days, and she doesn’t even want to know why. He’s probably drunk as usual. There are people who keel over because they drink too much, and maybe he’ll be one of them. A nice heart attack and a big “fuck you.” Today, however, is her day of pampering, and she has to relax; otherwise, her regenerative massage and exfoliating treatment won’t reach their fullest potential.
She walks quickly to the parking lot where she left the Giulietta. The thermal spa where she booked her appointments is twenty kilometers away, enough time to listen to some music, sing as she drives, and not think about anything else. These are the last days she’ll spend in this shithole before she waltzes off into the Antilles sun over Sosúa Bay.
Yo quiero que este
Sea el mundo que conteste
Del este hasta oeste
Y bajo el mismo sol
Álvaro Soler’s voice emanates from the Prada crocodile bag on her arm. She checks her iPhone display. She had hoped for Sara, the code name for her little puppy. Instead, it’s that odious pig again. She swipes the display to respond.
“What now?”
“Try not to get too excited. Your husband is acting strange, I don’t want him to catch on.”
“But who—what? He drinks. It’s clear.”
“Gerri’s been drinking since he discovered he had a mouth. In my opinion it’s something else. Looks like he’s trying to get us in trouble. We have to keep our heads on straight, because if not, it’ll all go to hell and we’ll be in deep shit.”
“Yes, I understand. But what can I do about my husband being a good-for-nothing?”
“You’ll figure it out, but try to make him behave.”
“What a pain in the ass! I can’t today, I have stuff to do.”
“Then I haven’t been clear. Yesterday afternoon the bar was closed.”
“What do you mean, closed?”
“Where was he?”
“How the hell should I know? But why is it suddenly so important what that asshole is doing?”
“It’ll all be over in a few days, Katerina. But if it doesn’t end as I say . . . well, you get the idea, don’t you?”
Katerina ends the call and buries her phone in her purse.
“Fuck you too,” she says, and strides off toward the car. After a few steps, she stops. She stamps her feet. The massage, the treatment, the hot water. “Goddammit, what a pain in the ass,” she says, turning back.
Maglio slips his phone into his coat pocket and observes Katerina from the window of the Fioralba minimart. He had seen her walk by while they were making his sandwiches and knew she was on her way to take care of business.
They need to keep her husband under control, because he is acting strange. There’s that story about the photo someone sent to Falconi that they still have to figure out. Gerri doesn’t seem like the type, but if he finds out his wife is sleeping with Falconi, he could go ballistic and jeopardize the whole thing. And he couldn’t afford to let that happen. Not now that he was in so deep.
“You’ll never believe this,” Dorina says as she bursts into the Gherarda barroom. She takes off her coat and hangs it up on its usual spot, then plops down at Barbara’s table. Those words usually precede what Dorina considers to be breaking news.
“What?” asks Barbara, who is still sitting with her phone out, her ears filled with the echo of what Giulio’s attorney has just told her.
“Mirna didn’t even show her face at the Misericordia market. Adele said she went to her beach house for a long weekend. She said she ran into Eugenio and he told her so. Can you imagine? Going to the beach on the same day as the Misericordia market? If you ask me, being the president of the committee drove her to the brink, and now what does she go and do on the most important day of the year? She runs off to the beach for a long weekend, that’s what. Are you listening to me? What—”
“Colletti called, Giulio’s attorney.”
“Did something happen?”
“One of his friends from the prosecutor’s office called just before six. Apparently, after the interrogation, Lorenzon became convinced that Giulio should go back to prison. She says he’s dangerous and that if he really did what they say he did, he could do it again. Colletti thinks she’s wrong, but he thinks the judge will side with her.”
“When will we find out?”
“I’m waiting for the phone call.”
“I’m sorry, Barbara. Sometimes I forget about the hell you’re going through.”
“Don’t worry, sometimes I need to forget about it too.”
“Love?” Gerri is getting dressed when he hears the door open along with Katerina’s voice. “Love, where are you?” What on earth is she up to? Why did she come back? “Love, are you home? There you are. I was thinking about something. Why don’t you take the morning off from that pack of drunks and come to the spa with me?” What kind of game is she playing?
THREE
David Bowie’s face on the cover of Space Oddity disappears and is replaced by Tom Waits on the cover of Blood Money.
The laptop’s screen saver is set to randomly reproduce album covers from the iTunes library. Two windows remain open behind the screen saver: the PDF with Professor Giampedretti’s report and Skype, with the phone call he’s just managed to make, using Viola’s Wi-Fi adapter and his account, which still has some credit left.
And while Tom Waits stares him down, showing him the hand of cards that he’s about to play, he thinks about how Patrizia never would have been able to reopen the investigation with her hand—that report.
He had to stay up all night drawing to get his thoughts off the report and try to sleep. Then the good news came, this morning, about his likely return to prison. And so he went straight back to work, because if he could find something to hand off to Colletti, he would feel more relaxed, even in the face of the less than appealing prospect of seeing the world from behind bars. And the only thing he was able to cling to was the slim chance that the attack on Patrizia and her disappearance—what, according to the investigators, couldn’t be anything other than a homicide—are in some way linked to attorney Alberti’s decision to reopen the investigation into Bridge Day.
But by the same admission of its author, the report in question wouldn’t have led to the desired outcome. Not counting the final coup de grâce that Patrizia’s hydrogeological luminary shared with her.
The new element the geologist referred to in the report was, in fact, something entirely different. That is, the presence of a small aquifer never seen before just inside the old woods. Full of water and everything.
To better understand the scope of the thing, Giulio got on Skype and called the number in the margin of the report. This led him to Professor Giampedretti’s office in Milan, and he presented himself as a friend and colleague of Patrizia Alberti.
“Of course, attorney Alberti, how is she?”
I guess it’s possible somebody on the planet still hasn’t heard the story, Giulio thought.
“I haven’t heard from her in a few days,” he replied.
He immediately asked the professor about the report, and why he had insisted that the finding of the aquifer was so important.
“You see, attorney, the issue with these underground deposits is that their mapping is usually entrusted to the municipalities,” he explained. “But the municipalities, who can’t even afford to cry with their own eyes anymore, don’t do it. One solution could be to form consortia to hire geologists, splitting the expenses, to map a mor
e vast area. Of course, it would take some time, but believe me: there’s no other way to find out where the aquifers are and take the necessary steps to protect them. We drink without thinking about the water that leaves the tap, you know? We take it for granted, but we shouldn’t. We’re made of water, did you know that?” Giulio couldn’t help but think of the fact that water had pulled down that bridge and taken the lives of seven people on it. But an alarm bell, inside him, was starting to sound. “They used to think the human body was between seventy and ninety percent water. But according to recent studies by Gerald Pollack, a professor of bioengineering at the University of Washington, the real water content could be up to ninety-nine percent. In practice, we are made almost exclusively of water. This is because water is the number one chemical constituent of muscle tissue. And this implies that to understand the diseases and functioning of the human body, we have to study the components of water. So the next time you stick a glass under the tap, think about how you, your life, your body, are all made up of that water. Looking at it that way, don’t you think it’s important to know where it comes from? But tell me, why didn’t your colleague call me? She seemed so interested in this case.”
“Well, Professor, the point is exactly that. Why do you suppose she was so interested in this thing?”
“I can only venture a guess.”
“Please.”
“But I should point out that this is a very personal theory.”
“I see. And what’s that?”
“Attorney Alberti is a Pisces.”
“A what?”
“Her zodiac sign. Do you believe in astrology, attorney?”
“Astrology?”
“The position of Earth in relation to its axis influences water. Think about the tides. Their relationship with the lunar phases. And we’re made of water, remember?”
This stuff about the lunar phases is what Giulio remembers with greater clarity, now that he is staring at Professor Giampedretti’s report. Patrizia was a Pisces, the explanation for everything. How obvious. He can hear the gnome chuckling. He can only imagine what kind of effect this information would have on deputy prosecutor Annalaura Lorenzon: “You see, ma’am, we can’t overlook the fact that Patrizia Alberti, the woman you accuse me of murdering, was a Pisces.” He wants to be the one to tell her just so he can see her face. Maybe the incompatibility of their signs could help his case. Or the tides, lunar phases. How his aunt Amanda would have been able to contribute to his defense.
It’s over. This is all Giulio can think. It’s game over with this astrology nonsense. To keep looking for a way out at this point would be like taunting himself. His memories, if they ever return, will wait until after the judge’s ruling. And then maybe he can appeal.
Akan had promised to make him mushroom and chestnut soup. His last meal before jail. Now he has to find the courage to face the future with dignity. Because it’s important, dignity.
Tom Waits disappears and is replaced by Paul Simonon, playing his bass on the Palladium stage in New York on the cover of London Calling, by the Clash.
FOUR
Talking with Arturo’s parents was painful. The Novelli family, of the Novelli Pharmacy, quickly tried to bury the case “for the good of the kids,” and Marshal Grazia Parodi has never taken well to that kind of request. Some people believe they’re above the law, and it’s a great pleasure to remind them that they’re not. This time, however, she had to nod along, because one of the three kids was her daughter. The Novellis land on their feet again.
“First of all, I need to understand how things went,” she had told the Novellis the night before, delivering Arturo under a sort of unofficial house arrest.
With Diego’s parents, it had been less humiliating. His mother had taken a few sick days and would stay home with him until they decided how to proceed.
The problem is Viola. And remembering it in these terms doesn’t help soothe her veiled sense of guilt that is absolutely unfair but also inevitable. The dirty dishes in the sink, the house that’s an explosion of clothes and shoes, her daughter who is in trouble up to her neck with no place to go.
And so Grazia took her to the Gherarda, where she just discovered that Rodari would likely be sent back to prison, that they would come get him that day, meaning she might have to confront a certain Scalise, who will be anxious for an update on the vandalism case attributed to the so-called Spirits of the Woods.
“I’m sorry, Barbara,” Grazia tells her.
“The truth will come out,” says the Gherarda’s owner.
“If it’s too much trouble for you to take Viola, I can figure out something else. I don’t want her to be alone right now—I’ll fill you in later.”
“It’s no problem at all.”
As she walks back to the patrol car, Grazia feels someone watching her. Just before she gets in the car, she stops and turns. Giulio is standing in the window. He had opened the blinds and was staring right at her. He waves. He knows they’re coming to get him and that he’ll be leaving soon. Back to jail. His stay at the Gherarda lasted just long enough for his interrogation, where the deputy prosecutor got what she wanted, and for them to smoke that cigarette together, reminiscing about better days.
Grazia waves back. One of those cheerless, tight-lipped smiles that people use when times are bad.
Giulio hunches over, crosses his eyes, and peels back his lips, baring his teeth. And he says something. Grazia can’t hear him, but she can read his lips.
Degenerates!
FIVE
No massage. No exfoliating treatment. No thermal spa. No oligomineral water that smells of sulfur. No bill to pay by flaunting her exclusive credit card.
Katerina’s eyes are wide with anger. Next to her, Gerri sleeps. And he’s snoring. He didn’t feel like going to the spa. He had that strange look in his eyes. He approached her without taking his eyes off her. Excited as a sixteen-year-old boy. He stripped her. One garment at a time, slowly, without saying a word. First her jacket, then her sweater, her shirt, her boots, her jeans, her socks, her bra, her panties. And then he just looked at her, not uttering a single word. And she almost didn’t mind. It was strange. He touched her naked body as if he were seeing it for the first time. Katerina thought that alcohol had fried his brain. Then he suddenly grasped her. An almost violent gesture. But not like back when they pretended to hurt each other. This time he was serious. He slammed her facedown on the bed. And he kept staring at her. She tried to flip over, but he stopped her. Katerina heard the sound of his belt loosening. She waited to feel him inside of her. But nothing. She tried to flip over again, but he stopped her. And then she understood, as soon as she heard his breath growing heavy. And finally the hot jet of fluid on her back. She lay there, trying to figure out what was going on in his mind, as he went to the bathroom to wash up. When he came back, he was only wearing a shirt. He lay down beside her on the bed. His eyes were bloodshot. Katerina understood that Maglio had been right: Gerri is out of his mind and needs to be controlled. So she took off his shirt, gently, and kissed him on his chest. She let her hot tongue glide over his neck. His ear. His lips. She helped him with her caresses and guided him between her legs, lying back for him. Slowly, almost sweetly.
But when Gerri fell asleep, she started thinking about the spa again. The smell of massage oil, dead cells rubbed away to make room for new ones, everyone sucking up to her because they know she knows no limits with her credit card.
She gets up and looks for her shirt, and as she slips it on, she grabs her phone and goes into the bathroom. She sits on the toilet and opens WhatsApp as she pees.
He really is acting strange. Do you think he knows?
A gray check mark.
Two gray check marks.
A few minutes pass.
Two blue check marks.
A speech bubble.
I don’t know. Keep an eye on him.
I don’t want to stay home
Don’t you fucking leave that house
Asshole
Whore
Don’t call me a whore
Stop it and concentrate on Gerri, don’t blow it now
I said don’t call me a whore
Fine, but you need to calm down
She gets up, flushes the toilet, and returns to the bedroom to find her panties. Gerri is sleeping. And snoring. She can’t stand it when he snores. She goes to the kitchen and opens the fridge. There’s still some salmon left.
“I can’t stay here all day,” she mutters, looking for a butter knife.
Yo quiero que este
Sea el mundo que conteste
Del este hasta oeste
Y bajo el mismo sol
Álvaro Soler is going to wake up Gerri. Katerina pounces on her iPhone.
It’s Sara.
Grazia arrives at the station. She gets out of the patrol car and opens the trunk, where she placed the duffel bag that the Spirits of the Woods were trying to hide. Hard drives and memory cards containing hours of video recordings made by the drones. Better check everything before formatting. Better understand what’s behind the blackmail story. She grabs the duffel bag and enters the station.
As soon as she opens the door, she hears, in this order, the squeaking of the bed, the clasping of a belt, and boots being pulled on, one by one.
Donato bolts out of the room where the cot is, his hair disheveled and his eyes puffy.
“You can sleep,” says Grazia. “One of us will have to sooner or later.”
“Any news?”
“The list is too long. I’ll give you a quick rundown of the main things. I need you at the Gherarda. I think Scalise will be there soon—they’re revoking Giulio’s house arrest—but they won’t warn us, and they’ll arrive out of nowhere. So we have to be ready. Viola’s there too. I saw Diego Chessa, and if nothing else, I think I figured out who’s selling weed to my daughter. The good news is the genius doesn’t have anything to do with Solfrizzi. Meanwhile, I have to go through these hard drives, because like I said, the Spirits of the Woods were also spies and blackmailers, as well as vandals. I just hope I don’t get you in trouble, because you’re the only one I know at this point who doesn’t deserve it. I wanted to tell you that after this case, I’m resigning, so the sooner you know, the better. If you want my advice, I’d say put in for a transfer.”
The Hawthorne Season Page 16