The Lost Girls of Rome by Donato Carrisi Read Free Book Online Page B

back to her.
    His profession often took him to the most hostile places in the world. God alone knew how many times he had risked his life. But that was how David was, it was his nature. He had to see everything with his own eyes, touch it with his own hands. To describe a war, he needed to smell the smoke of burning buildings, to know that the sound of bullets is different depending on which objects they hit. He had never wanted to be exclusively tied to any of the great newspapers, although they would certainly have fought to get him. He couldn’t bear the idea of anyone controlling him. And Sandra had learned to dismiss her worst fears, confining her anxiety to a place buried deep in her mind. Trying to live in a normal manner, pretending she was married to a clerk or a factory worker.
    There had been a kind of unwritten pact between her and David. It entailed a series of strange courtship rituals, which were their way of communicating. So he might stay in Milan for long periods and they would start to have a stable married life. Then, one evening,she would return home and find him preparing his famous shellfish soup, the one with at least five varieties of vegetable, accompanied by salted sponge cake. It was his speciality. But in their code, it was also his way of telling her that he would be leaving the next day. They would have dinner as usual, talking of this and that, he would make her laugh and then they would make love. And the next morning she would wake up alone in bed. He might be away for weeks, sometimes months. Then one day he would open the door, and everything would start again from where they had left off.
    David never told her where he was going. Except that last time.
    Sandra emptied the glass of the remaining wine. She drank everything in one gulp. She had always avoided the thought that anything bad could happen to David. He ran risks. If he had to die, then it had to happen in a war or at the hands of one of those criminals he often investigated. It all seemed equally stupid to her, but she could accept it somehow. Instead, it had happened in the most banal way.
    She was starting to doze off when her mobile phone rang. She looked at the screen, but did not recognise the number. It was nearly eleven o’clock.
    ‘Could I speak to David Leoni’s wife?’
    It was a man’s voice, speaking in a foreign accent, possibly German.
    ‘Who is that?’
    ‘My name’s Schalber, I work for Interpol. We’re colleagues.’
    Sandra sat up, rubbing her eyes.
    ‘I’m sorry to phone you so late, but I only just got your number.’
    ‘Couldn’t it have waited until tomorrow?’
    There was a cheerful laugh at the other end. Schalber, whoever he was, had a curiously boyish voice. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t help it, whenever there’s a question that’s nagging at me, I have to ask it. Otherwise I might not sleep tonight. Doesn’t that ever happen to you?’
    Sandra didn’t know what to make of the man’s tone; she couldn’t figure out if he was hostile or simply flippant. She decided to be businesslike. ‘How can I help you?’
    ‘We’ve opened a file on your husband’s death and I need to clarify a few things.’
    Sandra’s face darkened. ‘It was an accident.’
    Schalber had probably been expecting this reaction. ‘Yes, I read the police report,’ he said calmly. ‘One moment …’
    Sandra heard the sound of pages being turned.
    ‘It says here that your husband fell from the fifth floor of a building but survived the fall, dying many hours later from the fractures sustained and from internal bleeding …’ He stopped reading. ‘It must be hard for you, I imagine. It can’t be easy to accept something like that.’
    ‘You have no idea.’ The words came out sounding cold, and Sandra hated herself as she said them.
    ‘According to the police, Signor Leoni was on that construction site because it offered an excellent vantage point for a photograph.’
    ‘Yes, that’s right.’
    ‘Have you