‘I love you too, but that’s not what matters right now. Because of your carelessness, people have died, I’m a wanted man, and I would have been taken into custody if I’d shown up. They’ve always been one step ahead.’
Carla couldn’t believe that Annibale held her responsible.
‘Giulio can’t have called the police! What does he have to do with anything? You can’t possibly think he’s involved with the murders of Alfridi or those killers!’
‘He is, but that doesn’t matter either right now. We can’t waste time explaining or assembling clues. We have to focus on putting everything back in its place. We need to do the things that need doing. You know, you almost got me killed and you’ve put people I love in danger. But you’ve also given me a chance to look at all this from a different perspective. I should thank you.’
But he didn’t. Annibale put the binoculars back in the bag and walked away before she could say anything. Not that it would’ve mattered.
Carla stood in that strangely surreal place until nightfall. When she left, she was in tears.
Repetto and Rossi were sitting in a black SUV with tinted windows in via Marina. Canessa got in front next to Rossi. He started the engine and drove off. Repetto had understood everything: Carla had somehow betrayed them. She was the mole. He also realised that now was not the time to ask. Canessa would need time to heal.
Another affair with a bad ending, another woman letting him down. He just wasn’t meant to be with them. Damn it! Everything had seemed so right this time.
Rossi, however, was less expert in psychology.
‘So? Was it her?’
‘Yes.’
Canessa’s reply was sharp, cutting.
Good sign, Repetto thought. He’s moving on.
But Rossi was on a roll.
‘Sorry, but how did you know it was her? Couldn’t it have been me or Repetto?’
‘Good point.’ Canessa’s sarcasm was biting. ‘You’re getting better.’
‘So why did you exclude us?’
‘I didn’t. If I hadn’t found out the truth from her, I would’ve moved on to you.’
In spite of it all, Rossi felt hurt. He thought he’d demonstrated his loyalty. He felt part of Team Canessa.
At the first red light, he looked at Repetto for comfort. ‘He’s kidding, right?’
Repetto grinned. ‘Not at all.’
22
‘It all fits.’
Canessa was stuffing his things into a bag. After three days in via del Carroccio, it was time to change locations. ‘The secret of a safe house is never to let it become unsafe,’ he’d tell his men during the Years of Lead.
Rossi was arranging a series of safe houses across the city, but Canessa told him he’d take care of the one night. He had something in mind but was playing it close, probably still burned from the Carla affair. He had to be alone. Typical Canessa.
Repetto, on the other hand, would be heading home. It was his pact with Canessa: he’d spend every evening at home with Barbara.
The guest flat was cold, but it was better that way. A transient abode. Modern furniture, not anonymous but not welcoming either. No decorations other than a few prints on the walls. On the coffee table, next to Canessa’s bag, was the paper Repetto had received and delivered to ‘Max’. Before Repetto could ask, Canessa told him it was undoubtedly a ‘gift’ from Calandra.
A photocopied police report. Thanks to the intuition of one of the forensics team, a few weeks after the events, detectives had worked out that the note claiming responsibility for the murder of Judge Lazzarini had been written on an electric typewriter. And not just any kind: it belonged to a batch of 250 machines with a defective R key: usually, the stem of the letter was supported by two serifs, the one on the left shorter than the other; on these machines, it was reversed. The numbered batch had been sold to Milan’s courts in the summer of 1979. Which meant that Lazzarini’s killer had worked within the same walls where Lazzarini himself had been serving the State. The mole who’d handed him to the Red Brigade and typed up the note was in there, and probably even knew him personally.
According to the report, however, the investigation had stopped there. It could have been anyone at all. The machines were all over the building, including in the press room, where journalists used them.
Canessa didn’t think it had been someone from the press. However… a clerk, a secretary, a police officer, a judge… Why not? In any case, the fact was that whoever had sold Lazzarini came from the courts.
There was a post-it note on the police report. In elegant writing from a fountain pen it read:
This detail was never revealed. It was impossible to find an exact match, and it was considered too damaging to announce publicly in a country already disillusioned and so far from the end of terrorism.
Canessa had shared his thoughts with Repetto. ‘All of the dead – Petri and my brother, right up to the attack on me – were clearly collateral damage linked to protecting someone or something connected with the Lazzarini murder. Now we have a name: Judge Federico Astroni.’
Repetto’s jaw dropped, but Canessa put up a hand to stop his objection.
‘I know, Astroni is a knight in shining armour in this country. But we know that Carla carelessly revealed information to Giulio Strozzi. And Strozzi is Astroni’s biographer, his go-to reporter, his closest friend in the press. They’ve been closely linked since before the corruption inquiries. They both built their reputation during that period. He’s the only one Strozzi could have told. And now we have a document that links the law courts to Lazzarini’s murder. It can’t be a coincidence.’
‘Strozzi…’
‘No, I don’t think he’s actually involved.’
‘But the camorristi? The murders? Do you think Astroni coordinated all of that?’ Repetto persisted in his role as devil’s advocate. That was their dynamic.
Canessa closed his bag.
‘No, he’s clearly working with someone. Astroni himself is under surveillance, he’s got bodyguards, he’s very visible, and it’s unlikely that he is in direct contact with killers or criminals. But he is in touch with someone who seems respectable and with whom his closeness wouldn’t raise suspicions if it came out, but who still has room to operate. Someone ruthless but short-handed after we cleaned up their team. So they set up this whole charade to get rid of me. But they’ll soon find the right killer to sic on me, and if I could choose, I’d rather I only had to watch my back with the police… We’ve got to stop them. And fast.’
Annibale took Calandra’s paper, folded it and handed it to Repetto.
‘Make some copies of this.’
‘How are you going to proceed?’ Repetto asked as they headed to the door.
‘Like an inspector. I’ve been sort of winging it till now, relying on logic. I mean, we found a trail and I followed it. It’s got us this far, but we need to work like good old-fashioned gumshoes. Starting with Petri and his buried treasure.’
They took the lift down in silence. When they reached the ground floor, Repetto checked the front door for anything out of the ordinary.
‘All clear. I’ll go ahead,’ he told Canessa, ‘but where are you off to?’
‘Going for a rest, actually. I need a couple of hours’ downtime. And then I need to find a way to get my sister-in-law out of custody.’
23
‘It’s going to rain later, maybe even storm. Good thing I’m leaving now. I’ll miss most of it.’
Giannino Salemme lowered his car window and rested his hand against the door outside. He often did this, no matter the season or the weather.
They’d just turned onto the link road for Malpensa airport. Claudio was driving carefully and his father appreciated the concern. He’d needed to go on this trip for some time now, but he�
�d kept on postponing. He couldn’t leave before dealing with the situation.
Canessa was still around, but he was a threat with an expiration date. Giannino had said as much to Claudio, who was still anxious to find a Panattoni-Rocco substitute.
‘No, we need to lie low. Under the radar. Is that clear? Wait for me to get back from New York in a week. The police may have solved our problem for us by then. Canessa may get himself killed, or disappear. We might be lucky.’
Claudio pulled up to Arrivals. ‘I don’t think they’ll catch him,’ he said.
‘Neither do I. We just need them to restrict his movement, keep him busy. All we need is a nil-nil score. Go Naples!’
He got out of the car and waved to his son, who revved away. Any other time, he would have sighed with concern, but he was too focused on meeting his companion in New York. His ‘urgent business’ was mostly with her. He hadn’t told Claudio, but he did need some privacy, for heaven’s sake.
*
Marta knew she wasn’t the only person in Astroni’s bed, and yet she wasn’t lying naked in Guidoni’s tiny attic flat in revenge. It was a necessity. Astroni had recently seemed preoccupied, and their latest encounter had been unsatisfying. A distracted, flaccid shag.
Marta wasn’t naive. She knew her mentor was battling some sort of demon. So when Guidoni had invited her for a drink at a new place, she’d said yes. The alcohol loosened her up, but she had already planned on ending up in bed with him. She was curious about what he was like in bed.
He wasn’t as kinky and refined as Astroni, but he was a strong and well-built lover. That was good enough.
He came back from the kitchen with two glasses of fine white wine. Who knew?!
Still in the mood, he let his hands wander over her breasts. And why not? They’d done the necessary; all they had to do now was wait for Canessa to fall into the trap.
She couldn’t wait to question him. She wanted to know what had turned that hero to dust.
24
Canessa’s regrets came like the tide, ebbing and flowing. Usually they were gentle, but more often he was pounded by a breaker, and that hurt. His thoughts of Carla were powerful and relentless. At that particular moment, however, it was Caterina Lazzarini who was moving on top of him, something that gave him both pleasure and comfort.
Unlike the journalist, Caterina was a talker – mostly dirty talk. Her breasts kept rubbing against his face, and he’d grab them, squeeze them, tease them.
How had they ended up here?
When he’d left the place in via del Carroccio, he’d walked to the Sant’Agostino underground station. He’d needed some air, some time to think.
The disguise made him look older, like a retired office drudge on his way home from work. The urgency had been sudden. He was looking for a safe space to think, away from everything else. But he also wanted somewhere warm, with human company. A different kind of company from his usual two allies, something more relaxing. He needed a woman to help him tame the turmoil of his emotions for Carla. Even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t go to her.
So he’d made his way hopefully to via California and to Caterina. She might not ask him to stay – she might have guests, or be away – but she’d never report him.
The front door was closed, and no one came out this time. After ten minutes of waiting, and checking the building from several approaches, he rang the bell.
‘Yes?’
‘It’s Annibale,’ he whispered.
The door opened immediately.
She’d been waiting for him on the landing. Her fine blonde hair was gathered at the back of her neck and held there by a pencil. She was wearing a black tank top and a pair of jeans.
‘Come in, stranger,’ she teased, and he stepped into the flat.
‘Caterina, I’m looking for somewhere to stay for a couple of days. I’m sorry to involve you in this. I’m sure you know the risk, I’m—’
She’d pressed her finger to his lips.
‘You’re a good man. I don’t believe a word of what they’re saying about you. I know you. Are you hungry?’
She made him a vegan dinner. ‘It’s my only condition for people who want to with me. I do have some good wine though.’
She laid the table, and set down a dish of fava beans and chicory, Apulian style, and a mixed salad. Annibale complimented her.
‘Where did you learn how to cook?’
‘Natural talent!’ She laughed. ‘I’ve always enjoyed it. I worked as a sous-chef during my travels in Peru.’
They sank into the sofa, Sauvignon in hand. Caterina lit a couple of large candles and the air filled with their scent.
She looked at him with her piercing green eyes.
‘But now you have to tell me the truth.’
‘So it was Petri who killed my dad?’
‘Yes, that much I’m sure of.’
There was a moment of silence. Caterina finished her wine and put her glass down.
‘But there was someone behind him, right?’
‘Yes.’
Annibale paused, a little embarrassed. He wasn’t sure he could ask her the question. He feared her reaction, but he went for it.
‘Have you ever heard of Judge Astroni?’
Caterina smiled teasingly.
‘I mean, he is quite famous…’
Annibale was about to speak but she stopped him with her hand. ‘Come on, I’m joking! He was a good friend of my parents, way back from university. I don’t remember meeting him back then. I remember you, but that was different.’
‘And later?’
‘I don’t know. A lot of people came to see my mum. I’m sure that she did mention his name years later, though I wouldn’t be able to tell you why. Some time before he rose to fame. I can ask her, if you want.’
Canessa thought things over in silence. Under the layer of apparently trivial ties – Lazzarini and Astroni had been colleagues, and before that fellow law students – there was something else.
‘Please do, if it’s not too much bother. And apologies in advance if it causes her any pain.’
‘Don’t worry, it won’t.’ Caterina stood up. ‘What are you up to next?’
‘I’m here to think and relax. But I’ll be leaving tomorrow. It’s better that way. I don’t want you more involved than you already are.’
The voice of that strong child from years ago stopped him once again.
‘I am already involved. You can stay as long as you need to. Come on, I’ll help you make the bed.’
‘I can sleep here…’
‘The bed’s much better.’
Canessa was lost in thought, as always when he woke up. He was pondering the life of a cop, the things he’d never done, things he’d told Repetto in confidence. Being a cop meant finding out all there was to know about Petri and his life, and the research he’d done with Carla and Alfridi had taken him forward quite some way. But he couldn’t see the road ahead.
Having gained an important insight into Petri’s pilgrimages to the cemeteries so early in the game had allowed him to see the broader outline. But now he needed to see the picture itself. The investigation that had started in the archives of the Corriere had raised the dust around the Lazzarini murder. But at the heart of that murder lay the motive for the more recent ones. All of these pieces, but he still hadn’t been able to arrange them in any way that was fully comprehensible.
It was time to go back to square one. How had Petri lived? What had he done, other than move between home and office, prison and work? Had he made any friends? He wasn’t thinking about the respect he’d earned in prison from Cammello. Did he have any interests? Did he correspond with anyone? Did he have any family to talk to? And what was the book he never let go of, the one both Cammello and Alfridi had
mentioned?
That was where he had to start. But first he needed to free his sister-in-law.
He’d been focused on such thoughts when he noticed a presence in the darkness of his room. He reached instinctively for the Beretta on the bedside table.
The only light in the room came from a street lamp outside the window. And Caterina suddenly stepped out of the darkness into that light.
Naked.
Her body was slender and toned, with breasts pointing upwards and dark areolas. Blonde hair caressed her tanned skin, and a perfect golden triangle crowned her sex.
He looked up to find Caterina smiling, pleased to have caught him with his guard down.
Annibale thought of Carla and her self-righteousness when confronted with her failings. Right now, he was fragile and he needed the warmth of another person.
He took the hand Caterina held out to him, and pulled her into his bed.
Caterina was wild during sex, throwing herself into it, body and soul. She only stopped talking when her mouth was busy doing something else. And she was good, very good. Annibale wanted to tell her but he preferred to keep quiet in those moments. One question did escape him.
‘How many men have you been with?’
She stopped to speak, but her hand kept busy.
‘I’ve lost count.’
She moved her mouth back onto him, then straddled him, moving as if to music.
‘Fuck me like I’m my mother!’
Canessa’s clear embarrassment amused her.
She whispered a confession. ‘She told me about the day when something could have happened between you, but you didn’t catch her drift. Or didn’t want to. Fuck me, now, like you would’ve fucked her.’
The Second Life of Inspector Canessa Page 31