The Art of Killing Well by Marco Malvaldi, Howard Curtis Page A

fact that when the stomach opens up after a period of being tight with tension, it needs to be satisfied.
    Artusi had just polished off his third tart when Signorina Cosima crept up behind him.
    â€œSignor Artusi, have you seen what wonderful tarts our Parisina makes?”
    Artusi nodded and tried to say something, but was overtaken by her.
    â€œThey hardly need chewing, they melt so in the mouth, not like the sweets at Ussero’s café in the village, the one with the silvered windows, although he does make a tiramisù you must taste, but not now in summer because mascarpone is heavy in summer, as you know, and if you eat it then the same thing may happen to you that happened to the poor bishop two years ago when he drank hot chocolate on the twelfth of August and then took part in the procession carrying the Holy Sacrament, and well, what with the weight and the chocolate he had a natural disaster and also had to be carried in the procession, the poor man, you could smell him from a long way away …”
    While the signorina prattled on, Artusi had remained motionless, without even removing the tart crumbs from his whiskers. All around, the others were happily chatting away, without offering him the slightest bit of help. He tried two or three times to open his mouth, but immediately resigned himself. After what seemed an infinite length of time, the signorina mounted a direct attack.
    â€œDo you like Japanese carp, Signor Artusi?”
    â€œI’m afraid I’ve never tasted it, signorina.”
    â€œNo, no, what are you saying? My cousin the baron has an ornamental pond not far from here, and a short while ago some Japanese carp were put in it, kai they are called, they’re very colourful and really beautiful to look at. If you’ve never seen them, would you like to go with me to the pond? They are really exceptional fish, you will see, and I can even tell you the habits of some of them. For example, there’s one of them that—”
    â€œCosima,” said the dowager baroness with the resignation ofsomeone explaining things to the mentally deficient, “a hunt for a murderess is in progress outside. We even heard shooting some time ago. I don’t think it would be such a good idea to get in the way of the chase and expose our guest to the risk of being shot. Signor Artusi, don’t you agree that now may not be the opportune moment?”
    â€œIndeed, Baronessa, I fear you are absolutely right. Signorina Cosima, I’m sorry, but I believe it may be necessary to postpone this pleasant excursion.”
    Artusi looked at the baroness for a moment. No, it was just a fleeting impression. Elderly baronesses do not wink.

    â€œSo you won’t be making the acquaintance of the Japanese carp today. All to the good, trust me. I have the impression you would have found them somewhat inedible.”
    â€œPlease don’t joke, Signorina Cecilia.”
    â€œWho’s joking? The last man my aunt Cosima took to see the carp, Signor Giacinto Fioroni, left that very evening, claiming that his brother, the commander, was dying and had telegraphed asking to see him. The visit must have done him good, because my brother Lapo saw old Commander Fioroni two days later, I leave you to guess where.”
    As she spoke, Cecilia avoided looking at Artusi: she felt too much like laughing. And it was not possible to laugh today, it would not have been appropriate.
    â€œAnyway, as soon as Agatina is captured, I’d advise you to tread carefully.”
    â€œSpeaking of which, signorina, I must thank you. Now that the burden of suspicion has been lifted, I must tell you how grateful I am to you for having shown me your trust. It was of great comfort to me. Just as, it must be said, Signor Ciceri’s passion for photography was of great help to the police.”
    â€œYes, you’re right.”
    Hold on, Pellegrino. There’s something going on here.
    One of Pellegrino