Free The Lizard's Bite by David Hewson Page A

or so. I don’t recall exactly. They’d been cold to one another for some time. These things happen in a marriage, I believe. She wanted children. It never happened.”
    He waited, then asked, “Bella told you this?”
    There was a rush of anger in her eyes that the men understood. Raffaella Arcangelo was at the very limit of her patience with them.
    “Uriel,” she replied curtly. “What’s that about blood being thicker than water? It was an accident, Inspector. There’s no other possible explanation.”
    “An accident he could have avoided,” Falcone replied quietly. “You see the problem for me there? Whatever happened in this room, he could have walked to the door, opened it and gone for help. Instead…”
    Falcone left the matter there. Raffaella Arcangelo’s deep, attractive eyes had welled with tears, suddenly, and it appeared to be as much a shock to her as it was to them.
    She dashed a bitter look at her two brothers, who worked on the furnace oblivious to the world.
    “I can’t cope with this,” she said finally, once she’d recovered some composure. “There are arrangements to be made. And just me to make them.”
    “If there’s any way we can help,” Costa offered.
    Raffaella Arcangelo gave him a dark look. “This family buries its own. It’s not police work. When do you wish to interview us again, Inspector?”
    “Tomorrow,” Falcone replied. “I’ll be in touch about a convenient time. If you need me beforehand, you have my mobile number on the card.”
    “Tomorrow.”
    Then she walked off, stepping over the fallen doors, out into the bright blue day.
    Falcone’s eyes followed her departure avidly. There was an unhealthy amount of interest in his sharp, ascetic face.
    “Is there something I should know, sir?” Costa asked.
    “Presently,” Falcone replied cheerily, then glanced at his watch. “Now, listen to me carefully. I’m going back to town to see what passes for a morgue in this place. You poke around in here for a little while, just to let them know we’re interested. Then take an hour for lunch. More, if you like. Visit a few cafés. Peroni’s good at that. Be nosy. Be obvious. After that, talk to this Bracci family. I want people to understand we’re asking lots of questions. That’ll get back to Randazzo, which should do us some good. Tomorrow, first thing, I want to see this casual worker they had. Out on Sant’ Erasmo. We’ve got the boat after all. Best use it. When you’re through here it’ll be close to five o’clock anyway. That’s when your shift ends. You’ve got your women in tow. Leave early if you’re finished.”
    Costa didn’t know what to say. Falcone was a man who never let go once a case began. They were all used to working every hour of the day to get a result. Shifts, lunch, dinner, family… everything went out the window to get the inspector what he wanted.
    “Why are you looking at me in that curious way?” Falcone asked.
    “I just…” Costa stuttered. “
Lunch
? We never take lunch. This is a murder inquiry.”
    “Ten out of ten for observation!” Falcone replied chirpily. “But you heard Randazzo. He’s the commissario. He just wants a painstaking inquiry, and that is what I intend to deliver. Besides, you’ve seen this for yourself. What happened here happened in this room. I don’t think there’s a guilty party trying to escape us now, is there? In fact, I don’t see anyone hereabouts keen to make much of a move at all. Even for a funeral…”
    Costa was silent. The man had the scent of something, and it was useless trying to probe. He would say what he wanted, when he wanted, and nothing could bring it out into the light of day any earlier.
    Falcone rattled the keys in his jacket pocket. “Oh,” he added. “You’ll be eating together tonight, presumably? The four of you? I imagine it’s that little restaurant that Peroni found? The one with the peasant food?”
    “‘Family cooking’ is how it’s described, I