By My Hand by Maurizio de Giovanni, Antony Shugaar Page B

had started to fall, tapping against the windowpanes.
    â€œAnd what happened?” asked Maione, more than anything else to break the silence.
    â€œLomunno was found in his office with a large sum of money on his person. In cash. He wasn’t able to explain where that money had come from, and he was arrested. Garofalo’s testimony was decisive, and Lomunno was dishonorably discharged from the militia and served a year and a half in prison.”
    Ricciardi had listened attentively.
    â€œSo what happened is that Garofalo ruined his superior officer and took his place.”
    â€œThere’s more. He took the post to which Lomunno was about to be promoted, the rank of centurion. To place that in the context of ranks in the army, his promotion was the equivalent of going from second lieutenant to captain, in a single leap and without respecting the years of minimum seniority for the ranks in question. It was something unprecedented.”
    Maione couldn’t believe his ears.
    â€œExcuse me, maybe I missed something. What did Lomunno say?”
    â€œOf course, he swore he was an honest man, but he refused to reveal the provenance of that money. He said it was his, his whole life’s savings, and that he was going to use it to finally buy a house of his own.”
    â€œSo, really, wasn’t it just his word against Garofalo’s?”
    â€œYes, but no one carries some ten thousand lire in cash around with them. And in any case, it takes a lot less in this corps to merit disciplinary proceedings. His wife, when questioned by several of our officers, knew nothing about the money, and that was considered further evidence against him.”
    Ricciardi stared at Spasiano.
    â€œThere’s more, isn’t there? An epilogue.”
    Spasiano looked at Criscuolo, who in turn looked down at the floor. Maione had the impression that he was clenching his fists.
    â€œWhile Lomunno was in prison, his wife killed herself. She threw herself off the balcony of their apartment, the day she learned they were being evicted. She left behind two children, who stayed with a neighbor woman until their father was released.”
    Wind and rain on the window, and the roar of the sea. Ricciardi thought to himself that, as usual, it was the innocents who paid the price.
    â€œWhat became of them?”
    Spasiano shrugged.
    â€œThese events date back three years, more or less. We don’t have any more recent information, in part because, Commissario, I have to confess to you, we’re not very fond of remembering it, and for more than one reason. First of all, we don’t like to think that we were completely wrong in our evaluation of Lomunno, who was very well liked in the barracks. And, second, we don’t like to think that one of our own officers, and one of the best, for that matter, might have been corrupt. But above all, though I would never admit this outside of this room, we don’t like the way the matter ended.”
    Maione broke in.
    â€œAnd you did nothing for the family of this Lomunno? The wife and children, what did they live on while he was in prison?”
    The raw nerve. Criscuolo jerked his head up, started to say something, and then looked back down at the floor. Spasiano replied:
    â€œNo. It was as if we were dealing with lepers. None of us had the courage to give them a hand. We’re all partly to blame for what happened.”
    Ricciardi brushed aside the lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead, with the usual quick swipe of his slender hand. Then he asked:
    â€œWhere are Lomunno and his children now?”

XVII
    T he little one was the first to notice, in spite of the rain and the wind, and the incessant roar of the waves.
    â€œPapa, don’t you hear? Someone’s knocking at the door.”
    The man stopped what he was doing, set down the knife and the piece of wood he was carving, and went to open the door. When he saw who it was, he turned around and