Free Bella Italia by Suzanne Vermeer Page A

ride. I want to introduce you to someone who is going to boost your self-confidence.”
    Tardelli pointed to his car, a light-blue Fiat. A few moments later they got in.
    Neither of them spoke as they drove. Tardelli concentrated on the busy traffic, and Martuccia continued to ponder and wondered who they were going to meet. He had no idea who it could be. Once they were outside Verona, Tardelli stopped in front of a supermarket.
    “Be right back.”
    He returned five minutes later with a bottle of wine in his hand. He got in, put the bottle in his bag, and started the car. “I see doubt in your eyes, Carlo. It’s an affliction were all confronted with sooner or later.”
    Martuccia remained silent.
    “You’re still young, but you have it in you to become a really great detective,” Tardelli continued in the same calm and reassuring tone, like a father who only wants the best for his son. “Always pursue the burden of proof and follow your instinct. Follow your hunches; they are usually there for a reason. But more importantly, forget all that nonsense the chief spoke about this afternoon. It’s basically fiction, to help settle the masses.” He let out a loud sigh. “I understand that management decided to do it this way to end any and all rumors out there. But I have to wonder if upper management realizes the kind of risk they are taking by doing it this way.”
    Martuccia nodded. He completely agreed with his colleague. The very thing that had made this area such a thriving success was now working against them. The killer could be from anywhere in Europe, but could also be someone from Milan, Turin, or Rome. Or a friendly boy next door from Peschiera who had prepared his plan very well. Should the murderer strike again in this area, then all hell would break loose.
    “We’re here,” Tardelli said as he turned into a large parking lot. He stopped the car in one of the parking spots closest to the water park’s entrance. After they got out, Tardelli walked toward a tunnel that ran underneath the main road and ended at the square in front of the water park’s entrance.
    “Do me a favor and let me do all the talking, okay?”
    Martuccia kept walking next to him and nodded. He was curious as to where this walk would take them and did his best to look as neutral as possible.
    In the middle of the tunnel they found a man sitting down on the ground. Tardelli stopped directly in front of him.
    “Good afternoon, Professor.”
    The man gave them both a friendly nod. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. What can I do for you?”
    “We would like to talk to you for a moment. This is my colleague, Professor. A good guy, you can take my word on that.”
    Martuccia smiled at the homeless man, who politely nodded at him again. He wondered if maybe Tardelli was playing a joke on him. If this was the case, he would just play along for now.
    “They say you must give in order to receive,” Tardelli said almost ceremonially, as he handed the homeless man a bottle of wine.
    The man twisted the cap off the bottle of wine, took a sip, and let out a satisfied sigh. “What is it you need? As long as the answers to your questions don’t put my people in any danger, I won’t hesitate to help you.”
    “We are here about Ottavio Galli, the deceased man suspected of killing the eleven-year-old German boy.”
    “Yes, I heard about that—what a terrible story.” He shook his head sadly.
    “Can you tell us a little more about Ottavio Galli?”
    Before the man answered him, he stared straight ahead quietly for a moment. “Ottavio Galli showed up here in our district about three years ago.” He looked at Tardelli questioningly and nodded in the direction of Martuccia. “It may be smarter if I explain to your friend first how things work in the world of the homeless.”
    “That sounds like a good idea,” Tardelli answered.
    “When a new homeless person is spotted in what we refer to as our ‘district’ that stranger then receives