Free River of Shadows: A Commissario Soneri Mystery (Commissario Soneri 1) by Valerio Varesi

but I have persuaded Alemanni to unite the inquiries into the two brothers.”
    “You can pat yourself on the back, then. In all my dealings with that one, I’ve never once got anything out of him. He rejects every application I make, even the most straightforward ones.”
    “He’s nothing but a gloomy old bugger who can’t get it into his head that it’s time for him to move on.”
    “I hope to see you before you go drifting off somewhere. Maybe there’ll be an opportunity in a couple of days. If you have any memory left, you’ll understand …”
    He heard the mobile being closed with a snap which seemed to him like the sound of something being broken, but at that moment, walking under the colonnade, he chanced on the
osteria
called
Il Sordo
. Inside, under hanging chandeliers with a few candles in each, there were eight beechwood tables. The light was faint but sufficient for games of
briscola
. He recognized Barigazzi and three other men he had seen at the boat club standing at the bar.
    “Did you get out in time?”
    “Nando, the boy operating the radio, is still there dismantling it. He’ll be here shortly.”
    “Did it come up sooner than you expected?”
    “No. It will reach the shack about three o’clock. We know the river, so we know it’s pointless hanging about waiting for it.” It was Barigazzi who did the talking.
    “Can I get you something?”
    “We never say no. It’s an offer that might cost you dear around here,” they all replied, making for an empty table.
    The deaf barman, whose misfortune gave its name to the
Il Sordo
bar, kept his eye on them until they sat down. When he came over, no words were spoken, but Barigazzi held up four fingers and his thumb and the man nodded. Soneri was about to ask him about something else, but he stopped when he felt a hand on his elbow. “No point. He’s taken out his hearing aid this evening, so he wouldn’t hear a thing.”
    It was only then that the commissario became aware that small amplifiers the size of cotton wool balls were protruding from both of the landlord’s ears.
    Barigazzi introduced Vernizzi, Ghezzi and Torelli. “In fact,” he said, “you’ve met the whole committee of the boat club all at once.”
    Then he pointed to the owner of the bar. “He does that when he’s in a bad temper. He pulls the apparatus out of his ears and listens only to his own silence.”
    “What a bit of luck,” Soneri said, thinking of certain calls from Angela. He looked around at the walls covered with photographs of great opera singers, all in parts from Verdi. His eyes fell on a Rigoletto while, in the background, the notes from one of the more romantic numbers swelled up.
    “Aureliano Pertile,” Ghezzi said, without a moment’s hesitation.
    The deaf landlord himself wanted to live in silence, but he provided music for his guests. He reappeared with a dark, thick glass bottle and four majolica bowls foaming at the brim. Soneri recognized it as a Fortanina, a wine low in alcohol buthigh in tannin, sparkling like lemonade.
    “I thought it had vanished from circulation,” he said.
    “It was declared illegal because it didn’t reach the required grade of alcohol, but the landlord makes it in his cellar,” Vernizzi informed him. “You’re not here as a spy, are you?”
    “No, not if he’ll bring me some
spalla cotta
,” the commissario said. “I’m concerned with a different kind of crime.”
    “Of course,” Barigazzi said, intercepting Soneri’s thought.
    He looked at them one after the other, as though issuing a challenge. “Have you any idea what could have happened?”
    Vernizzi and Torelli leaned back in their chairs, raising their eyes upwards to imply they had no idea. Ghezzi kept his counsel and the commissario had the impression that he had no intention of speaking, leaving this to Barigazzi, a ritual that reminded him of meetings in the prefettura where people spoke in order of seniority.
    “It’s no good asking us. You