Game for Five by Marco Malvaldi, Howard Curtis Read Free Book Online Page A

fashionable.”
    Ampelio made a somewhat disparaging gesture with his chin and grunted, “The times we live in! When I was young, fortunately, it was fashionable to fuck . . . ”
    â€œAnyway,” the doctor went on, ignoring these Ampelian regrets, “the first of the three messages told the girl that Alina might be going out to dinner with a guy. In the second, meant for the boy, she asked him if he was free for dinner. She also said they had to talk. In the third she asked him to pick her up from her place at ten, because her parents were out. As it happens, Arianna and her husband were at the same party I was at. We spent quite a while scrounging food from the Marquis and Marchioness Calvelli.”
    â€œAnd the messages received?” Massimo asked, all the while imagining the doctor in a tuxedo, smiling at old Marchioness Ermenegilda Calvelli-Storani and murmuring under his breath,“Ihopeyoucroaksoonyoufatpig” as he kissed her hand.
    â€œAll four are from the boyfriend. In the first he confirms the date. In the second he tells her he’ll wait outside her building. In the third he asks her where she is. In the fourth he tells her to go to hell. Prophetic, really.”
    The doctor broke off, and took another cigarette from the pack. He lit it and was silent for a few moments. Nobody dared to speak.
    â€œIn between, there’s the conversation with the girlfriend. Fusco’s interviewing her now. Anyway, I have to go to the morgue. But as I’m here, I might as well eat here first. My wife isn’t waiting for me today.”
    â€œWhere did you leave her?” Del Tacca asked cheerfully. “With her lover?”
    â€œIn Saturnia, at the spa. She goes there every three or four months, to do God knows what. But when she comes back, she feels better, she’s actually calmer, more relaxed.”
    And you’re calmer too, Massimo thought, but you’re ashamed of admitting it to yourself. Massimo’s hadn’t had these problems with his ex-wife. She’d let him do whatever he liked, as long as he didn’t cheat on her. Actually, she was the one who’d cheated on him. The bitch.
    â€œThat’s because she doesn’t see you for a week,” Del Tacca said in the same cheerful tone. “Then she comes back, sees you again, and falls at your feet. Some things have an effect on a beautiful woman like your wife. Though God knows why she insists on coming back . . . ”
    â€œI don’t know, I just appreciate it. Massimo, can you make me a sandwich on foccaccia, whatever kind you like?”
    â€œJust give me a moment. I have to make a couple of phone calls first.”
    Â 
    Massimo went out the back, took the phone from the wall, and dialed the number of the police station. A voice with a Sicilian accent said, “Pineta Police, hello.”
    â€œHello, this is Massimo Viviani. I’d like to speak with Dr. Fusco.”
    He couldn’t help it, it had just come out like that. Fortunately the switchboard operator played along with him.
    â€œA witness is currently helping Dr. Fusco with his inquiries into the Costa homicide. Would you like me to inform the doctor immediately?”
    â€œYes, please.” In order to maintain the level of bureaucratic language, he added, “Without further ado.”
    A brief silence, then Fusco’s voice reached his ear, sounding quite conspiratorial in tone. “Hello?”
    â€œHello, Inspector. Listen, I have to talk to you. This morning in the bar a person gave me some information that may be important—”
    â€œConcerning the case?” the inspector cut in brusquely.
    â€œYes. Practically speaking—”
    â€œNot a word on the phone. Come straight here.” And he hung up.
    Fusco really did seem over-excited.
    I wonder who he’s talking to, Massimo asked himself, even though he already had an idea. Dr. Carli had said he’d been