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

interviewing the girlfriend. It was extremely likely he was now talking to the boyfriend Alina had sent the texts to.
    He called Tiziana on her cell phone, but there was no reply. She’d probably gone to bed and couldn’t hear the phone. What to do now? He couldn’t leave the bar unattended, and in order to close he’d have to throw out the old-timers. He went back in and called Aldo over.
    â€œAldo, Fusco wants me at the station right now. What time do you have to be at the restaurant?”
    â€œAbout six. Do you want me to mind the bar?”
    â€œThat’d be great. You know where I keep everything, more or less. I’ll be back in an hour, two at the most. Don’t give my grandpa all he asks for, or he’ll feel sick. And don’t, I repeat don’t, let him get at the ice cream.”
    â€œDon’t worry.”
    â€œThanks. See you later.”
    â€œSee you soon,” the doctor said. “But what about my sandwich?”
    â€œOh, yes, of course. I’ll make it for you before I go. Salt beef, lemon, grilled zucchini, and dill.”
    â€œSounds good. All right.”
    â€œIt is good, trust me. Even if you didn’t like it I’d make it anyway.”
    While Massimo was slicing, Rimediotti asked the doctor, “That car, do we know whose it is?”
    â€œYes, it’s Alina’s. It got stuck in the mud near the trash can. It’s clear the murderer didn’t want to stay there too long, so he left on foot, either through the pine wood or along the street.”
    â€œWhat was it, a green Clio?”
    â€œYes, a new Clio. Just like mine. Arianna told me she wanted to buy the girl a car, something simple to drive, and asked me what the Clio was like. I told her I was happy with mine, so she got one. Three months ago. It seems like a hundred years.”
    â€œHave they done the post mortem yet?”
    The doctor looked down at Pilade and nodded slowly. “I just finished it. I can’t tell you anything. Thanks, Massimo,” he said, taking the sandwich, “and can you give me also an iced tea, please?”
    â€œHelp yourself, I’m going to phone the girl.”
    He went and dialed the number of Tiziana’s cell phone. Nothing. He tried her home number. At the sixth ring, a voice said, “Hi, this is Tiziana and I’m not in. Leave a message and I’ll call you back.”
    â€œThis is your employer Massimo Viviani speaking. Binding commitments to the civil authorities are taking me away from my business. Come here as soon as you can, I’ll pay you overtime until six.”
    He went back, grabbed his billfold, and pointed to the half-eaten sandwich on the plate. “Don’t you want the rest?”
    â€œNo, it’s good, but my stomach’s tight.”
    â€œWorried?”
    The doctor looked at Massimo in a cow-like way, then nodded again. Stupid question, Massimo thought, look what I just asked him. He opened the door and left without saying goodbye.

SQUARE ROOT OF TWENTY-FIVE

    Â 
    Â 
    Â 
    Â 
    Â 
    Â 
    Damn. Can’t breathe in this heat. Look at me, for that pain in the ass Fusco I’m going to catch the mother of all sunstrokes, damn him, and his mother for good measure.
    This was all Massimo was able to think as he walked to the station.
    To keep cool, he took a slightly longer way around, through the pine wood. Mechanically, he took out a cigarette, but then it struck him he wouldn’t enjoy it in this heat, so he put it back in the pack and carried on walking.
    As he walked, lost in thought, he looked down on the ground and catalogued the refuse strewn through the pine wood. “A coke carton . . . paper from a sandwich . . . one of mine, yes . . . good boys . . . a pen . . . a condom wrapper . . . how do they manage it? . . . I’d be scared . . . plus you get pine needles in your ass, which must hurt . . .