Free Death in Tuscany by Michele Giuttari Page B

documents he had relating to the Florentine lodges, which he had kept constantly updated.
After that call, he finally phoned Petra.
    They agreed to go to I Palmenti (Are you trying to be forgiven? she asked. No, he lied, I'm trying to save you having to cook tonight) and then Petra asked, 'Have you called Massimo to apologise?'
'No, not yet
    A good thing I thought of it, then. He was most upset, especially as he'd gone to a lot of trouble to book a table at Romano's in Viareggio. Still, he said the reservation wouldn't go to waste, because he'd find someone else to console himself with.'
    'Knowing him, we can guess which gender that someone is likely to be, even if we don't know her name.'
    'Right,' Petra said, not at all enthusiastically. Anyway, call him yourself, please.'
'Don't worry, I will.'
    'Good. I'll book a table at I Palmenti . Is nine o'clock all right?' 'Perfect.'

    Ferrara didn't get the chance to talk to his friend. First the line was engaged, then he heard the hum of the fax machine in Fanti's office and sat waiting, listening intently, as if his ears could read.
    After a length of time that seemed endless, his sergeant finally appeared with about a hundred pages. And they only covered Florence!
    'Here are the lists, chief!' Fanti said. He was rather more cheerful than he had been before, even though he knew he had done nothing he could take credit for.
'Thanks, you're a star.'
    The document, entitled The Lodges of Florence, traced the history of the Freemasons in the Tuscan capital followed by a list of the various lodges and the names of all their members. Several of the names were preceded by the word 'Doctor', but it was clear that this did not always indicate a doctor of medicine, merely the person's academic qualification. Only in a few cases was the profession specified, and there were lawyers, architects, engineers . . . He was not surprised to find the name of Ludovico d'Incisa. At the same time he felt relieved not to see, at least on a first quick glance through the many pages, the name of Anna Giulietti. Nor those of Commissioner Lepri or Prosecutor Gallo.
    He closed the file and put it in his briefcase. He would study it at greater leisure when he got home.

    Montelupo Fiorentino, a town noted for its ceramics, is located a few miles from Florence. The Ferraras drove there in their old, indestructible Mercedes, which the Chief Superintendent had had for years and couldn't give up.
    A restaurant based in a converted mill with a charming period cellar well stocked by the current owners, I Palmenti had become almost a regular destination. Apart from the traditional, earthy Tuscan dishes much loved by Petra, the restaurant was noted for its excellent fresh fish which to Ferrara's palate tasted unmistakably of the Tyrrhenian Sea, especially where it lapped the shores of his native Sicily.
    That evening, the owner proudly recommended the pezzogna, a rare deep-water fish only found, in season, off the islands of Elba and Capri. Its soft but solid flesh was incomparable and the wine that came with it, an extraordinarily smooth, rich Fior d'Uva from the Amalfi coast, brought out all its flavour.
    'I've never eaten anything to touch this,' Ferrara exclaimed, after the last mouthful.
    'I bet Massimo doesn't get treated like this at Romano's,' Petra said, pleased to see her husband looking so relaxed. 'By the way, what did he say to you?'
    'I couldn't get hold of him,' he replied, clearly embarrassed. He had had all afternoon to try again.
    'Ach du lieber Gott!' Petra exclaimed, as she often did to express surprise. 'Michele! That's not good enough!'
    ‘I’ll call him tomorrow,' he said, winking at her. 'Now isn't exactly the time, is it?'
    But she didn't appreciate that wink, which she found a little too dismissive. She felt guilty about her friend and mortified by her husband's thoughtlessness. She loved Italy, her adopted country, but she didn't always like the Italians' devil-may-care attitude, which was