“You won’t need it.”
“Of course I’ll need it. They’ll want someone to pay for this, and I’m top of their list.”
“I tell you you won’t need it. Romanazzi, Macri, his driver and their friends will soon have other things to worry about.”
“Such as?”
“Such as the fact that they’ll be going on holiday at the State’s expense in a few weeks’ time. A long holiday, I suspect.”
“You’re arresting them.” Congratulations, Guerrieri, I told myself as I said these words. That was a brilliant deduction.
“The investigation isn’t based in Bari, so we won’t be arresting them ourselves. Someone else will do it. People a lot nastier than us. And I’d say that’s enough professional secrets I’ve given away for today. Let’s change the subject; it’s time we had something to eat.”
We went to a restaurant facing the harbour. It belonged to a client of mine, Tommaso, known as Tommy. Someone I’d helped out of a tight spot a few years earlier. I told Tommy we wanted to sit outside and didn’t feel like ordering. Leave it to him, he’d see to everything, he replied as I’d expected him to.
He brought us raw seafood and grilled fish, followed by cream desserts made by his mother, who’d been a cook for forty years. We drank two carafes of white wine. At the end of the meal one of the waiters brought a bottle of ice-cold lemon liqueur. Carmelo lit his cigar. Damn it, I thought, I’m going to smoke a bloody cigarette. So I called Tommaso and asked him to fetch me a Marlboro. He came back a minute later, with a new packet and a lighter. He put both of them down on the table and turned to go.
“No, Tommy,” I said, pushing the packet away. “I don’t want all of it.”
He insisted, saying I might feel like smoking another one later. I was sure I’d feel like smoking another one later. And then another, and another. That was why it was better I didn’t keep the packet.
“Thanks, Tommy. One’s enough.”
I lit the cigarette, smoked it in silence, and then asked Tancredi if he wanted to hear a story. He didn’t ask any questions. He poured himself a little more liqueur and gestured with his hand for me to begin. I told him everything, from that afternoon in September until the final act, which had taken place a few hours earlier.
By the time I’d finished, the waiters were putting the upturned chairs on the tables and we were the only people left in the place. Although we both had work the next morning, we decided to have a walk along the deserted seafront.
“Carmelo?” I said after walking for about ten minutes in silence.
“Yes?”
“Do you remember Casablanca?”
“You mean the film?”
“Yes.”
“Of course I remember it.”
“Do you remember the last line?”
“No. I remember the scene very well, but not the line.”
“ Louis, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. That’s how it goes.”
He stopped. For a few moments, he stood there, lost in thought, as if trying to grasp the exact meaning of what I had said, so that he could answer appropriately. In the end, though, he just nodded, without looking at me.
I nodded too, and then we carried on walking, side by side, without saying anything more, to the city limits.
Where the houses and restaurants and signs come to an end, and all that’s left are the cast-iron lamp-posts and their friendly but mysterious lights.
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-160aa3-3f7e-3148-a7a1-9e63-3ccc-773b43
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 04.12.2011
Created using: Fiction Book Designer, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6 software
Document authors :
About
This file was generated by Lord KiRon's FB2EPUB converter version 1.1.5.0.
(This book might contain copyrighted material, author of the converter bears no responsibility for it's usage)
Этот файл создан при помощи конвертера FB2EPUB версии 1.1.5.0 написанного Lord KiRon.
(Эта книга может содержать материал который защищен авторским правом, автор конвертера не несет ответственности за его использование)
http://www.fb2epub.net
https://code.google.com/p/fb2epub/
Reasonable Doubts gg-3 Page 21