Vipers by Maurizio de Giovanni, Antony Shugaar Page B

it, you know. Those places aren’t for me.”
    â€œBecause people have a good time there? So where
do
you spend your evenings, at the cemetery chatting with the residents?”
    The commissario was willing to give as good as he got.
    â€œYou can kid around all you like. But you ought to know, with the work you do, just what happens to those who experience powerful passions. Knives, brass knuckles, billy clubs, and revolvers, in and of themselves, when left in a desk drawer, are innocent. It’s the hands that are guilty: and the hands are driven by the belly, by the heart, and by the exact same emotions you go in search of in places like your Il Paradiso.”
    Modo stretched out his legs.
    â€œThat’s the point. I know that’s how you see things; and it’s what makes you seem like a character who’s just walked out of one of those gothic novels from a hundred years ago. But you also know that the main force driving mankind is emotion, and that in the end emotions are nothing but a fancy word for the blood that pumps through our veins and fans the flames of our desires. We’re animals, my friend, and we should never forget it. In spite of the church, which does its best to persuade us that we’re purely spirit, or our lovely current ruler, who sees us as lines of numbers on a sheet of paper.”
    Ricciardi considered the matter.
    â€œSo, in your opinion the bordello is a place of emancipation, is that right? And these girls who work there, don’t you think about them? About their dreams, their hopes? The fact that they have to go along with who knows what perversions, however violent?”
    Modo turned serious.
    â€œThe girls are there of their own free will. No one forces them into it, and I believe that freedom to choose what kind of life you’ll live is also a mark of civilization. Believe me, they’re safer in there, under constant medical supervision, with a minimal security detail and decent sanitary conditions, than they would be on the street. Plenty of times I’ve seen some drunk who’d stepped over the line being given the bum’s rush; I’ve even helped toss them out myself. What do you think, that I’m the kind of guy who takes advantage of poor defenseless girls?”
    Ricciardi shook his head vigorously.
    â€œNo, no, Bruno. I know who you are and the way you think, of course. But the fact remains that this girl, Viper, was killed while she was working. And that one of her clients often dabbled in violent little games.”
    â€œYes, I know that there are people like that. But believe me, there are more people who want to be hit than the ones who don’t. And in any case experienced girls, and Viper certainly was one, know how to keep the situation under control. But will you let me eat now, or are you hoping that your ramblings will make me lose my appetite?”
    They caught a waiter’s eye and ordered.
    Modo snorted in annoyance.
    â€œThe fact that we aren’t free to eat meat this week oppresses me. I respect Catholics, why shouldn’t they respect me? A nice sizzling steak is off the menu during all of damned Lent, including the bone that I would have given to my little four-legged friend over there.”
    Ricciardi, who as usual had ordered a couple of puff pastries and an espresso, shrugged.
    â€œOh, come on, you’ll find something to eat. And your friend won’t mind eating those scraps, just this once; maybe they’ll remind him of his youth, when he had to paw through the trash for his dinner.”
    In the meantime the doctor was listing for the waiter the dishes he’d selected in the absence of his beloved steak: macaroni timbale, grilled snapper with anchovies and capers, and strawberries.
    â€œAnd a bottle of white wine, which you’ll open here at the table before our eyes, otherwise I know you’ll water it down.”
    The waiter, an impeccably groomed little man, whose