“Yes, sir.”
“La Mattina, by the way, has named us the new capital of homoerotic violence. Wonderful, eh?”
“That’s unfortunate, sir.”
“I’d like to talk to you about the contessa.”
Natalia waited.
“As you may be aware, she is being hounded by the media. Rivelare has two reporters staked out around the clock outside her home. Paparazzi are practically camped at her gate, cameras trained on the house. She goes out, they rush her, shouting questions and provocative remarks, recording every second. It’s unconscionable to harass someone of her age and standing.”
“I’m sorry to hear of this, sir.”
“Yes. Unfortunately there’s nothing we can do. The contessa’s many prominent friends are quite upset. Until we close the case, there will be no end of prurient interest. It is as if she is the chief suspect, for Christ’s sake. My dear wife suggested she stay with us until things settled down. Contessa Antonella refused, of course. It would take more than a few reporters to intimidate the woman. I had to remind my wife that it would be seen as a conflict of interest to have someone involved in a murder investigation as a guest in our home. So, you see my problem.”
“I do, sir, and we are working with all speed.”
“Subjecting her to our scrutiny is making life with my Elisabetta, shall we say, less than pleasant. Speaking of which, she wants to offer you a ticket to Lucia di Lamamor at the San Carlo. It’s on Saturday.”
“That’s terribly considerate of her.”
“She claims her sister was supposed to come but can’t. I suspect it’s subterfuge. She asked for you particularly. If you come, don’t be surprised if my darling wife engages in some lobbying on behalf of her beloved Nell.”
“Thank you, sir. For the warning and the kind offer. And thank her for me. It may be difficult to get away at the moment, even for an evening. Can I get back to you about that?”
“Of course.”
Back in her office, Natalia changed into civilian garb: a cream-colored silk wrap she hadn’t worn in years and hoped would keep Lola from complaining that she always looked like a slob. Off duty for the next twenty-four hours, she slipped out shortly before ten to meet Lola.
The woman who cleaned the Sanzari Funeral Emporium dumped a bucket of soapy water into the gutter. Natalia crossed to the other side of the street, navigating past locals and tourists peering through the stubby iron bars outside Santa Maria ad Arco di Purgatorio waiting to get in.
She passed between the torpedo-shaped concrete posts that divided motorbikers from pedestrians and barely avoided a bicycle with a palm tree on the back standing upright in a milk crate. A silver van followed, driven by two nuns.
A fat nonna slid off a tomato-colored motorbike. Natalia had never been able to coax her nonna to go near one. Even when she took her for a drive in the car, Nonna made the sign of the cross and kissed her fingertips before they started out and as soon as they’d arrived at their destination.
At the end of the block, a couple embraced in the middle of a narrow sidewalk, the woman wearing purple satin pants and black boots. She reached under her blouse and adjusted her brassiere, then ran her hand over his bald head as if she were petting a cat. He took both of her hands and kissed them.
The gypsy who approached them held open a flat box with assorted key chains. She offered them to the woman first, who shook her head.
“Please,” the gypsy pleaded.
“She told you, no,” the man snapped.
The gypsy woman took a few steps away and circled back. That’s when he shoved her. She stumbled. Key rings went flying. As Natalia rushed over, she rose to her feet, shaking, knees bruised and bleeding.
Natalia confronted the man. “Let me see your papers.”
“Who are you?”
“Captain Natalia Monte. Casanova Station.” She held up her identification.
“So, they’re swearing in broads now. Better all around if everyone minded their business.”
He winked at his girlfriend, who laughed.
“The public order is my business,” Natalia said. “If you don’t comply, I’ll bring you in.”
“By yourself?”
“I think I can manage, but I can always call in reserves.”
“Oh. A hardass. You’re making me sweat.” He took out his wallet and stuck a driver’s license in front of Natalia’s face.
“You are Mr. Rizzi.”
“You have a problem with that?”
“No. The problem is all yours.”
Natalia wrote something in her notebook, handed the license back to him and proceeded to get the gypsy’s particulars.
“You’ll be receiving a summons in a few days. Fail to appear and a warrant will be issued, which I will personally see is executed.”
She and Pino had dealt with violence against Roma on more than one occasion when they’d partnered together. Colonel Donati was only somewhat sympathetic to their plight, but most in law enforcement mirrored the hostile attitude of the public who saw gypsies as untrustworthy scum undeserving of protection.
Natalia found a cabbie a block later, parked on Via Duomo and had him drive her to a small street a few blocks from the waterfront in the Chiaia quarter where she and Lola had chosen to meet.
Arriving at her destination, Natalia nonchalantly scanned the street. A boy delivering bread wobbled past on his bicycle, fresh loaves in plastic bags hanging vertically on either side behind him. A circle of tourists listened attentively to their tour guide lecture in animated French, as she stepped off the sidewalk to pass by. No one seemed out of place, suspicious. But anyone shadowing her would see to being inconspicuous.
The heat hadn’t let up. A cooling wind off the sea was needed. Instead, a blistering vento from inland pressed down from the hills onto the city. It made Natalia happy to take refuge in the darkened restaurant, its heavy stone walls cool even in the oppressive heat. Lola was hiding in the back behind a vine of bougainvillea growing out of the edge of the open patio, its flat stones shaded by an ancient chestnut tree and a red-and-white striped awning.
Their table overlooked the harbor. They weren’t far from where as kids they’d once leapt into the cool of the bay. Lola had on a white blouse, white slacks, and white shoes, and a pair of enormous dark sunglasses. A navy blue blazer with gold buttons lay draped across the back of an extra chair.
Natalia joined her, saying, “Are you in seclusion, or do you not want to be seen with your unfashionable friend?”
“Just being discreet, Captain.”
Natalia sat and tilted her friend’s head, peeking past the chandelier earrings at a large bruise on Lola’s cheek. “Hey, somebody hit you?”
“Nobody would dare,” Lola said. “No, I had a little work done on my eyes, is all.”
“What for?”
“Just updating myself.”
“Last time I checked, your face didn’t need updating.”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t involved with a man ten years younger then.”
“If your romance needs a surgeon to stitch it together—”
“Please, no lectures. Spare me. When you were bedding Pino, you rushed off to a retreat, took a vow of silence, ate lentils for days and slept on a dirt floor.”
“He wanted me to understand Buddhism.”
“From the ground up. Yeah, girl. That’s what you said then, too—all moony-eyed and sexed up.”
“Lola, it’s just that I’m worried about him.”
“You’re worried about him?” Lola said. “Look, you’re my best friend and I love you, okay? But was he thinking about you when he was fucking teeny Tina a while back?”
“Let’s not go there.”
“Okay, okay.” Lola opened the top button of her blouse. “Look.”
A ruby heart hung on a gold chain around her neck.
“Dominick. What do you think?”
“Extravagant,” Natalia said.
“Right. Boy knows ho
w to behave … so far.”
The waiter brought them bread and took their drink orders.
“This is nice—just the two of us,” Lola said. “Which reminds me: I had a visit from Suzanna after the get-together.”
“Oh.”
“She wanted to know if it’s a problem for me—your being a Carabiniere.”
“What did you say?”
“I told her no. That we didn’t make a public show of our friendship, but when we were together it was just us, same as when we were growing up.”
Natalia smiled. “And what did she say?”
“Nothing more about that. She switched the subject to her ex.”
“Ernesto Scavullo?”
“The one and only.”
“I wonder why she’d be interested at this late date? Isn’t she over him?”
“Look who’s talking. Obviously, she’s still carrying a torch for him,” Lola said. “You know, first love and all. I mean, she never remarried, did she?”
“True, but I’m not sure her curiosity about Ernesto translates as love. Though they were pretty smitten back then.”
“Back then?” Lola squealed, indignant. “He started whoring around on her at their wedding and didn’t let up. She toughed it out, but it couldn’t have been fun.”
The intensity of their young passion for one another—Suzanna’s and Ernesto’s—had actually alarmed Natalia at the time.
“She ask anything specific about him?” Natalia said.
“Wanted to know whether I thought Ernesto had done that to those two queers who turned up in Contessa Cavazza’s garden.”
“And you said?”
“That I didn’t know, but a good many suspected him of being behind it.” Lola lit a cigarette. “She said it would be tragic if that was true.”
Natalia looked puzzled. “Of all the people he’s done away with, why would she express regret about these particular two?”
“Beats me,” Lola said. “Pass the olive oil, please.”
Chapter 15
Via Toledo was giddy with heat. One end of the busy avenue tilted up to Capodimonte, the other down to the harbor, changing names along the way. Natalia and Pino stood at the intersection of Cavour and Santa Teresda degli Scalza before it morphed into Via Pessina. Here the stairs angled into the hill, and alleys cut into it like strands of a spider’s web.
The light changed, and the couple headed north, moving with the crowds up the slope. Silver hubcaps glinted outside auto repair shops where men sat coated in grease, smoking. Canaries sang in cages set out on the sidewalk. Within a few blocks, Natalia was out of breath from the climb.
“I’m out of shape,” she said.
“I love your shape,” Pino said.
“That’s very forward of you, Sergeant Loriano.”
He kissed her neck as they waited to cross yet another street.
“Stop it.”
“What if I refuse?”
“Insubordination, Sergeant. I can write you up.”
“I’m on leave, remember? Any other reason I shouldn’t display my affection?”
“We’re in public.”
“But not in uniform.”
“All I need is to walk into Casanova with a giant hickey,” Natalia said. “It would make Marshal Cervino’s day.”
They approached the Sanite Bridge that Neapolitans had saved from being destroyed by the retreating Wehrmacht. People streamed across, some heading into the vortex of the city, some heading away.
Suddenly there was a breeze, and Naples lay below in all its splendor. Turning inland, two worn columns marked the entrance to a small park.
There were a couple of scraggly trees and the requisite broken benches. The ground was littered with trash, a couple of needles, and a pile of broken bottles. The area reeked of alcohol, but the drunks were sleeping it off somewhere else.
They were alone except for a girl huddled under a black-and-white, polka-dotted umbrella. They sat on a bench away from her, and Pino closed his eyes. He breathed deeply. Natalia wiped her perspiring face with a tissue.
“Even the one thing invisible has a double,” Pino said.
“What does that mean?”
Natalia got up and threw the tissue in a large metal can, although futile. One scrap of garbage attended to, while all around them lay Styrofoam containers, cigarettes, drug paraphernalia and candy wrappers.
“It means I want to kiss you.”
“Permission granted. Be careful of the neck area.”
“Aye, aye. I love you, Captain Monte.” He kissed her eyelids and her mouth. “It’s an auspicious day for us, darling.”
“What did you tell Tina?”
“The truth. That I was in love with you. That she needed to relocate.”
“How did she take it?”
“Fine. Better than I expected, actually. And I weakened.”
“Weakened?”
“Mmm. I told her she could stay at my place until she gets her head together. Or if she needed money for a room somewhere, I said I’d help. Anything to get her away from the thug boyfriend.”
“Here you go again,” Natalia said, “the knight in shining armor. You sure she’s not harboring any fantasies about the two of you?”
“Absolutely.”
“Are you?”
“Am I what?” Pino put his arm around her shoulder.
“Harboring fantasies about that beautiful pregnant girl?”
“I want to be with you, Natalia.”
“Did you get the rest of your things from your flat?”
“Here,” he patted his worn backpack. “After she’s gone, I’ll go back and pack up the rest.”
“The concierge has a key to my place,” Natalia said. “I told her you’d be coming by this afternoon.”
“She knows about us?”
“She’s probably figured it out. We’re not quiet.”
Pino tickled her, and she shrieked.
“What do you mean ‘we’?” he said, laughing.
“How did these get here?” Natalia asked. A vase of mimosas and violets sat on her desk.
“A corporal brought them up.” Angelina grinned at her boss. “I believe there’s a note. I think they’re from your Buddhist friend? It’s that gold-foil paper.” Natalia flushed.
“So romantic. Reminds me of Giuletta the first night we were together.”
Natalia peeled the envelope off the vase and dropped it into her bag. The last night they had spent with one another before he’d gone away, Pino had brought her the same bouquet. It was then he told her about cranes, apropos of nothing: that they represented longevity and how in Ancient Greece their cries announced the return of spring. They had been a long way from spring that night.
Tribunali was decked out with pointsettias. People scurried along the street with gifts of cakes and lavish flower arrangements, past happy families lined up in front of the pizza parlors. Liturgical music spilled from cathedrals and churches, while firework bombs went off in the alleys, celebrating a high holy day.
“Peace on earth,” Natalia had joked, as she flinched from the percussions.
Pino and Natalia, soon-to-be former lovers, enjoyed their dinner together at her flat along with quite a lot of fragrant wine. Pino was supposed to go home after dessert, their future deemed impossible, but they had toasted with Zia Giovanna’s wine glasses and fallen into bed.
It was when she’d gotten up to pee that she tripped over the wine glasses. Pino offered to get them fixed. He knew one of the few glassblowers still in business. She’d refused, annoyed at how easily he had clouded her resolve to stay away from him.
What kind of spring could they hope for? Their involvement was forbidden by regulations: She was his superior. There was little hope for both of them to remain Carabinieri if they continued, and she knew she would not be the one to surrender her captaincy, no matter what. It meant too much to her, more to her than … him.
That she cared deeply for Pino only made it worse. That
they were incredibly well suited as lovers and partners made it nearly unbearable. It was true: Natalia could hang out a shingle and try her hand at law. That was the degree she’d earned at officers’ school in Rome. Not a very lucrative profession in Naples, where people had little faith in the legal system, and conflicts had been settled since before the Greeks by confrontation. Hell, prayers and potions were still employed to ward off the evil eye. Not to mention that lawyers were held in even lower regard than Carabiniere. Natalia was in a quandary and had leaned toward ending their affair.
The day after her night with Pino, she’d returned home to find a vase of mimosas and violets in front of her door. And a note explaining. He was gone from her life. He’d sensed her misgivings and had taken wing like one of his cranes.
It was Mariel’s shoulder she’d cried on then. Mariel who’d taken her shopping the next day. Mariel who assured her Pino would be back. Her lavender silk pajamas were a legacy of their spree. That, and a gold chiffon skirt and black cashmere sweater, low cut and off the shoulder. New Year’s Eve they’d splurged on dinner at the Cantina di Triunfo.
They followed the repast with La Traviata at the San Carlo.
At intermission, Mariel went to retrieve champagne. As Natalia surveyed the fancy crowds, someone tapped her shoulder.
“So, I was right,” Elisabetta Donati’s blue eyes sparkled. “I spotted you coming in, but Fabio insisted it couldn’t be. You should get out of uniform more often. How are you, my dear?”
“Good,” Natalia said. “Where is the colonel?”
“He’s having his New Year’s cigarette.”
“The colonel is smoking again?” Natalia asked.
“He’s allowed one on New Year’s and one on his birthday.”
Mariel approached, a glass in each hand. Natalia made the introductions.
“The bookstore on Porta Alba, isn’t it?”
“You look familiar, too,” Mariel said.
“I get all my art books there. Wonderful place. Excuse me ladies, I’d better powder my nose before they start ringing those infernal bells.” She kissed Natalia. “Enjoy your bubbly.”
Now this second vase on her desk completed the circle. Pino was back in her heart and about to move in.
A Few Drops of Blood Page 14