drops.
He asked her, “Could this cause me to go blind over the short term?”
She laughed and told him, “No, don’t worry. In fact, I don’t know anyone your age who’s in such excellent physical condition.”
I’ve taken care of myself, the old man muses. I’ve been prudent. To do what I had to it was important that I be in good health. I certainly couldn’t afford to have my body break down at the most crucial moment. I stayed in shape. I didn’t do what she did: let herself be consumed by it until it killed her.
After all, the old man reflects while the young man, only about seventy-five feet away, takes a look at his watch, I’m here representing her too. She probably would have wanted the same thing. We never talked about it: that would have been too dangerous. The less you know about things, the less likely you are to let something slip.
I cased the locations a million times before actually coming to the city: flying over the streets with the satellite map, even studying the layout of the hotel rooms. It’s incredible what you can do with a computer, and no one can see you.
I had time on my hands, the old man remembers. I found the right clothing, the most nondescript and comfortable clothing possible—things that don’t change color in the rain. The shoes, the glasses. Invisibility is a talent.
But I used the time to organize, not to gather my determination.
It only took a minute for that, ten years ago.
Over the edge of the newspaper, spread open to the page that is devoted to discussion of him, the old man sees the young woman arrive. He moves a little closer.
CHAPTER 28
Piras remained in the hallway outside the door of the Crime Reporting Office with a quizzical look on her face and her head tilted slightly to one side, as if making sure of what she thought she had heard. Her dark eyes slid over Giuffrè as if he were a piece of furniture and came to rest on Lojacono.
The inspector met and held her gaze, admitting inwardly that she was a good-looking woman. Now that she was fully lit, unlike the first time he met her, he could see the gentle lines of her body, lines that her business suit could not fully conceal. He noticed the perfect features of her face.
“Who are you? Do I know you?” she said.
“I couldn’t say. But I know you: we met the night of Mirko Lorusso’s murder. Evidently, I have a better memory than you do.”
Giuffrè let out a groan of terror. Piras was famous for her hair-trigger temper: now watch her pulverize Lojacono for his impertinent reply.
Instead, the woman slowly nodded her head as a derisive smile played over her lips. “Now I remember. You’re the one who noticed the tissues. And then got sent packing with a kick in the ass.”
Lojacono shrugged his shoulders without pulling his hands out of the pockets of his overcoat. “True. The professionals had shown up, and in fact the first thing they did was solve the case.”
Piras weighed his reply. She nodded again, then she said, “Come with me. I want an espresso. Point me to a decent café around here.”
Leaving an openmouthed Giuffrè behind them, and trailing the curious gazes of a couple of colleagues who were coming in through the front entrance, Lojacono led Piras to a bar behind the police headquarters. The woman walked straight over to the only corner table in the place and sat down. She took a look around.
“Mamma mia, what a place. Cozy, isn’t it? I’ll take an espresso. Good and hot.”
Lojacono stood there, hands in pockets, his almond-shaped eyes focused on her face. “Not for me, thanks. I’m afraid it might interfere with the afternoon nap I’ve got planned.”
Piras smiled. “Do me a favor and stop playing the strong silent man who won’t take orders. If you don’t want an espresso, suit yourself. But sit down, please. I have something to ask you.”
Lojacono sat down. “What can I do for you, dottoressa? I don’t think I have any particularly useful
He asked her, “Could this cause me to go blind over the short term?”
She laughed and told him, “No, don’t worry. In fact, I don’t know anyone your age who’s in such excellent physical condition.”
I’ve taken care of myself, the old man muses. I’ve been prudent. To do what I had to it was important that I be in good health. I certainly couldn’t afford to have my body break down at the most crucial moment. I stayed in shape. I didn’t do what she did: let herself be consumed by it until it killed her.
After all, the old man reflects while the young man, only about seventy-five feet away, takes a look at his watch, I’m here representing her too. She probably would have wanted the same thing. We never talked about it: that would have been too dangerous. The less you know about things, the less likely you are to let something slip.
I cased the locations a million times before actually coming to the city: flying over the streets with the satellite map, even studying the layout of the hotel rooms. It’s incredible what you can do with a computer, and no one can see you.
I had time on my hands, the old man remembers. I found the right clothing, the most nondescript and comfortable clothing possible—things that don’t change color in the rain. The shoes, the glasses. Invisibility is a talent.
But I used the time to organize, not to gather my determination.
It only took a minute for that, ten years ago.
Over the edge of the newspaper, spread open to the page that is devoted to discussion of him, the old man sees the young woman arrive. He moves a little closer.
CHAPTER 28
Piras remained in the hallway outside the door of the Crime Reporting Office with a quizzical look on her face and her head tilted slightly to one side, as if making sure of what she thought she had heard. Her dark eyes slid over Giuffrè as if he were a piece of furniture and came to rest on Lojacono.
The inspector met and held her gaze, admitting inwardly that she was a good-looking woman. Now that she was fully lit, unlike the first time he met her, he could see the gentle lines of her body, lines that her business suit could not fully conceal. He noticed the perfect features of her face.
“Who are you? Do I know you?” she said.
“I couldn’t say. But I know you: we met the night of Mirko Lorusso’s murder. Evidently, I have a better memory than you do.”
Giuffrè let out a groan of terror. Piras was famous for her hair-trigger temper: now watch her pulverize Lojacono for his impertinent reply.
Instead, the woman slowly nodded her head as a derisive smile played over her lips. “Now I remember. You’re the one who noticed the tissues. And then got sent packing with a kick in the ass.”
Lojacono shrugged his shoulders without pulling his hands out of the pockets of his overcoat. “True. The professionals had shown up, and in fact the first thing they did was solve the case.”
Piras weighed his reply. She nodded again, then she said, “Come with me. I want an espresso. Point me to a decent café around here.”
Leaving an openmouthed Giuffrè behind them, and trailing the curious gazes of a couple of colleagues who were coming in through the front entrance, Lojacono led Piras to a bar behind the police headquarters. The woman walked straight over to the only corner table in the place and sat down. She took a look around.
“Mamma mia, what a place. Cozy, isn’t it? I’ll take an espresso. Good and hot.”
Lojacono stood there, hands in pockets, his almond-shaped eyes focused on her face. “Not for me, thanks. I’m afraid it might interfere with the afternoon nap I’ve got planned.”
Piras smiled. “Do me a favor and stop playing the strong silent man who won’t take orders. If you don’t want an espresso, suit yourself. But sit down, please. I have something to ask you.”
Lojacono sat down. “What can I do for you, dottoressa? I don’t think I have any particularly useful
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