was quicker to go and ask there. He banged his hat on and stumped off through the courtyard, muttering, 'I'll give her testify . . .'
It turned out to be the restaurant nearest to the Palazzo Vecchio. There was only one couple lingering over coffee and cigarettes. All the other tables had been cleared and had clean white cloths on them. The head waiter was putting his coat on. The Marshal found his man sweeping up in the kitchen. He was as surly and unprepossessing as his wife and about half her size. To avoid losing his temper the Marshal said it himself along with his first question: 'It was the morning that it snowed . . .'He was prepared for a battle if the porter turned out to be as difficult a customer as his wife. He needn't have worried.
'I remember. Yes, I did open the door for somebody when I was leaving for work. It's unusual for anybody to ring at that time. I thought perhaps it was the postman come early. My wife was in the bathroom.'
'Who was it?'
'I've no idea. Nobody came in so perhaps it was a mistake. I was going out anyway and I was a bit surprised to find nobody there.'
'You didn't do anything about it?'
'What should I have done if there was nobody there? To tell you the truth, I thought it was probably one of those Sardinian beggars with their bagpipes. There was one of them on the other side of the street. I wouldn't have opened up if I'd known; they're a thieving bunch and they usually work in pairs. I thought it was probably the other one who had rung, on the cadge.'
'But you never actually saw the other one?'
'No, I told you. There was nobody there when I came out.'
'What time was it?'
'Eight o'clock.'
'How long after pressing the door switch did you come outside?'
'A few minutes. I don't know. The time it took to put my coat on and pick up my keys and stuff.'
As simple as that. And he, too, had remarked on the one piper. The Marshal decided it was time to pay a visit to Headquarters. Before he left he asked: 'What's your full name?'
'Bertelli, Sergio.'
'I'll need a written statement from you later. If you didn't think of mentioning this caller to your wife, didn't it even occur to you to mention it to us when you heard what had happened?'
'Nothing happened that I know of. Why should I have told you?'
'You don't know that a tenant from your building was kidnapped that morning and that the evidence you've just given could be vital?'
'I don't know anything of the sort.'
There was no point in asking if his wife hadn't told him if they never spoke.
'Don't you read the papers?'
'Only the sports page.'
'And you didn't even notice that a tenant from the first floor is missing?'
'I know nothing about the tenants. That's my wife's job.'
'"I am not in the least racist. I don't object to these people on grounds of race and I don't believe that any other Florentine does either. All we ask of anyone coming to live in a civilized city is that they accept the code of behaviour of civilized, decent people" etcetera, etcetera . . . The ones that start off with "I'm not racist but" are always the most racially prejudiced.'
'True.' The Substitute flipped open the latest of the pile of newspapers on the Captain's desk. 'Another three letters . . . But the editor declares the correspondence closed. So much the better.'
The polemic in the newspapers had begun not over the kidnapping but over a fight that had broken out a few days previously in a bar much frequented by the young Sardinians who hung around the city and by the city gangs who sold them drugs. No one knew what the quarrel had been about and no one cared. In recent months the residents of the area around the bar had been complaining almost nightly to the police about the noise that went on until the small hours and about the hypodermics left strewn around the piazza, a serious health hazard to the children who played there during the day. The fight, in which one Sardinian had slit another's throat from ear to ear without succeeding in
It turned out to be the restaurant nearest to the Palazzo Vecchio. There was only one couple lingering over coffee and cigarettes. All the other tables had been cleared and had clean white cloths on them. The head waiter was putting his coat on. The Marshal found his man sweeping up in the kitchen. He was as surly and unprepossessing as his wife and about half her size. To avoid losing his temper the Marshal said it himself along with his first question: 'It was the morning that it snowed . . .'He was prepared for a battle if the porter turned out to be as difficult a customer as his wife. He needn't have worried.
'I remember. Yes, I did open the door for somebody when I was leaving for work. It's unusual for anybody to ring at that time. I thought perhaps it was the postman come early. My wife was in the bathroom.'
'Who was it?'
'I've no idea. Nobody came in so perhaps it was a mistake. I was going out anyway and I was a bit surprised to find nobody there.'
'You didn't do anything about it?'
'What should I have done if there was nobody there? To tell you the truth, I thought it was probably one of those Sardinian beggars with their bagpipes. There was one of them on the other side of the street. I wouldn't have opened up if I'd known; they're a thieving bunch and they usually work in pairs. I thought it was probably the other one who had rung, on the cadge.'
'But you never actually saw the other one?'
'No, I told you. There was nobody there when I came out.'
'What time was it?'
'Eight o'clock.'
'How long after pressing the door switch did you come outside?'
'A few minutes. I don't know. The time it took to put my coat on and pick up my keys and stuff.'
As simple as that. And he, too, had remarked on the one piper. The Marshal decided it was time to pay a visit to Headquarters. Before he left he asked: 'What's your full name?'
'Bertelli, Sergio.'
'I'll need a written statement from you later. If you didn't think of mentioning this caller to your wife, didn't it even occur to you to mention it to us when you heard what had happened?'
'Nothing happened that I know of. Why should I have told you?'
'You don't know that a tenant from your building was kidnapped that morning and that the evidence you've just given could be vital?'
'I don't know anything of the sort.'
There was no point in asking if his wife hadn't told him if they never spoke.
'Don't you read the papers?'
'Only the sports page.'
'And you didn't even notice that a tenant from the first floor is missing?'
'I know nothing about the tenants. That's my wife's job.'
'"I am not in the least racist. I don't object to these people on grounds of race and I don't believe that any other Florentine does either. All we ask of anyone coming to live in a civilized city is that they accept the code of behaviour of civilized, decent people" etcetera, etcetera . . . The ones that start off with "I'm not racist but" are always the most racially prejudiced.'
'True.' The Substitute flipped open the latest of the pile of newspapers on the Captain's desk. 'Another three letters . . . But the editor declares the correspondence closed. So much the better.'
The polemic in the newspapers had begun not over the kidnapping but over a fight that had broken out a few days previously in a bar much frequented by the young Sardinians who hung around the city and by the city gangs who sold them drugs. No one knew what the quarrel had been about and no one cared. In recent months the residents of the area around the bar had been complaining almost nightly to the police about the noise that went on until the small hours and about the hypodermics left strewn around the piazza, a serious health hazard to the children who played there during the day. The fight, in which one Sardinian had slit another's throat from ear to ear without succeeding in
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