Game for Five by Marco Malvaldi, Howard Curtis Page A

balls like this, you’re never going to find a man, right, girl? Not even a duck-billed platypus would go for someone like you. I apologize to the people at home but hey, every now and again you have to let it all hang out.”
    Ampelio let out a loud laugh. “I can imagine how you let it all hang out!”
    Pilade now joined in. “God, what a queer!”
    â€œWhat about you, Rimediotti, don’t you have anything to add?” Massimo asked icily.
    â€œOh, come on, Massimo, don’t take it like that!”
    â€œI know how that fellow there takes it,” Ampelio said in a low voice, pointing at the TV.
    â€œObviously I haven’t made myself clear. You’re in a bar, not in your own homes. There’s the possibility that some people might not like you. Including me, of course. And since it happens that this place is mine, the fact of not liking you might be of some consequence.”
    Ampelio calmed down, muttering between his teeth something like “Narrow minded . . . ” and Massimo again started loading the dishwasher. As he leaned over the monster, he heard someone come in. Immediately, Aldo’s cheerful voice rang out.
    â€œHello everyone, ugly and handsome alike. What are you watching on TV?”
    â€œAn astrology show,” Pilade said without taking his eyes off the screen.
    â€œCool,” Aldo said, turning to look at the TV.
    â€œJust think, in my days they called it taking it in the ass, now they call it astrology.”
    â€œAh, the things you learn from TV . . . ” Pilade said smugly.
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NINE
    Drriiiiiing.
Drriiiiiing.
Drriiiiiing.
    â€œHello?”
    â€œHello, it’s Aldo.”
    â€œHello.”
    â€œHello, Massimo, it’s Aldo. I wanted to—”
    â€œHello? I can’t hear a thing.”
    â€œMassimo, it’s Aldo,” Aldo said a little louder.
    â€œSpeak louder. I can hardly hear a thing.”
    â€œMas-si-mo” Aldo yelled, emphasizing each syllable, “they called me from the pol-ice sta-tion. They want—”
    â€œThere’s no point shouting like that,” Massimo said calmly. “This is a recording. Leave a message after the beep.”
    â€œFuck off,” Aldo said after a brief moment of consternation.
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    â€œBar Lume, hello.”
    â€œHello, Tiziana? Massimo here. Is Aldo there?”
    â€œMassimo, things are chaotic here. Fusco called you a dozen times, then came here in person and almost arrested your grandpa. I’ll pass him to you, he’s here.”
    â€œThanks.”
    â€œSignor Viviani?”
    â€œSpeaking.”
    â€œI need you to come to the station as soon as you can.”
    â€œOf course. Why did you try to arrest my grandfather? Not that I’m complaining . . . ”
    â€œWe can speak at the station. See you later.”
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    Better get dressed. God, Massimo told himself, if the man isn’t breaking balls he’s not happy.
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    Massimo walked into the station to find the doctor sitting on one of the chairs and Fusco with his buttocks propped on the window sill. Both responded to his greeting with a grunt, the doctor’s cordial and the inspector’s somewhat pig-like.
    â€œPlease sit down.”
    â€œHello, Massimo.” The doctor got out of the chair and walked to the other window.
    â€œWe called you because there have been some new developments,” the inspector said. “We realize you’ve been a great help. Thanks to you, we’ve avoided making an over-hasty accusation. Obviously, you can’t have any official role in our investigation. But . . . ”
    â€œBut?”
    â€œThe fact is . . . well, people seem to trust you. You managed to get hold of information about the case we knew nothing about it. In short . . . ”
    Embarrassing, isn’t it? Poor thing, I know how you must feel, Massimo thought smugly.
    The doctor took over, in a