Game for Five by Marco Malvaldi, Howard Curtis Page B

contemptuous tone. “Messa has confessed where he was when the murder took place. Apparently the boy, who obviously has more money than sense, is in the habit of clearing his nose with a medication that isn’t on the list of officially approved drugs. That’s why, when he needs to fire up that negligible lump of guano he has instead of a brain, he meets with his friends in a dark place and buys a little cocaine. Which is what he says he did on the night in question.”
    â€œHe’s also told us who sold it to him,” the inspector cut in. “A small-time dealer we’ve known about for a while now. It won’t be hard to confirm this alibi, although I fear it may take some time. So it’s our opinion that the young man should be released, although personally, with all the time he’s made us waste, I’d happily squeeze his fingers in a vise, but that too”—the inspector raised his eyes to heaven—“is an opinion. However, I’m convinced there are still some things he hasn’t told us, and so for the moment he needs to remain available. Right now, there’s another matter to discuss. The thing is . . . ”
    â€œThe thing is, Massimo,” the doctor took over, giving Massimo a meaningful stare, “I’ve told the inspector what you found out from the PR guys at the disco, and we both realize that the finger now points rather firmly at Piergiorgio Neri, known as P.G. In addition . . . ”—the doctor glanced at the inspector, who encouraged him with a look to continue—“in addition, it emerged from the post mortem that the girl was pregnant. A few weeks pregnant.”
    Silence. That too? Well, given the life she led, and all the men who had her, it was hardly surprising. If the poor girl was an easy lay, that was the kind of thing that could happen. The problems arise when you convince yourself it can only happen to other people . . .
    The significance of the doctor’s statement only became evident a moment later, stemming the tide of nonsense in Massimo’s brain.
    â€œDo you know who the father was?” he asked.
    The inspector showed off his specialty, in other words he glared at him, then allowed himself a brief smile. “We have the genetic imprint of the fetus, of course. But to establish who the father is we’d have to make comparisons, and in order to make comparisons we need samples.” He paused, put his hands together, and started opening and closing his fingers like a whiskery little seal. “Samples of material that would be admissible as evidence in a court of law. I can hardly disguise myself as a gypsy woman, stop people on the street, and pull out hairs to protect them against the evil eye. Especially as the list of candidates seems to be a long one . . . ” Here the doctor glared at Fusco, who hastened to change the subject. “Anyway, I think we understand each other. If you let me have a statement about what you saw when we found the body and about the conversation you had with those two young men, and also tell me their names, I can summon Neri” (Neri? Massimo thought. Oh, yes, P.G.) “as a witness. If I don’t like his answers, and I don’t see how I could like them given that he keeps denying he ever knew the girl, I’ll detain him as a suspect and ask for his DNA to be compared with that of the fetus. If they’re identical, then God help him, I’ll get him sooner or later.” The inspector drummed with his fingers on the window sill, then said to Massimo, “Well?”
    â€œWell, of course, I’m happy to do that. The two PR guys are called Dennis and Davide, they shouldn’t be hard to find. As for the statement, here I am.”
    â€œPerfect. You could even make it right now, if the doctor doesn’t mind leaving. I’ll type it personally.”
    The doctor intercepted Massimo’s questioning look.