Free At the End of a Dull Day by Massimo Carlotto, Anthony Shugaar Page A

Nasco Costruzioni SpA, that officially uses it as accommodations for the structural engineers that come in from out of town.”
    â€œHow did you manage to find out all this information at this time of night?”
    He pulled his cell phone out of the pocket of his down jacket. “A phone call to the right person.”
    The two partners who owned Nasco had attended a number of dinner parties in the back room with Brianese and enjoyed the charms of my girls. But I was careful not to tell that to the private investigator.
    â€œI want to know if you’re asking me to keep pursuing this trail,” he asked me.
    â€œWhy do you ask?”
    â€œBecause I’d prefer to know exactly what you’re looking for, rather than running the risk of finding out things I really don’t want to be involved in. I can smell a distinctive aroma of shit and of politics too, but I can’t say which of the two smells is stronger.”
    â€œYou’ve been frank and I want to be just as clear. I want to know exactly how many hairs there are on the ass of Signorina Ylenia Mazzonetto, and if you happen to find out anything else, I’m ready and willing to pay the difference.”
    â€œThere’s no need. You’re a good client and this is a nice place with good food and good drink.”
    He sketched out something like a military salute and turned to go.
    So I’d seen clearly: Brianese and Ylenia were in a relationship and I found out late. Doing my best to be an upright and honest citizen for eleven years had made me blind, foolish, and defenseless. The Counselor had figured that out and decided that I deserved to be ripped off to the tune of two million euros. I had reacted and he’d been forced to adopt a counterstrategy to keep me on ice, but the message was unmistakable: he was still and would always remain the stronger one.
    I was deeply uninterested in trying to see whose dick was longer. My only objective was to get my hands onto the 2.25 million euros that he owed me.
    Time seemed to stand still. I needed Martina and the incessant swishing of the freewheel of the spinner bike. I locked up the bar and was walking briskly home when I happened to cross paths with three girls out strolling, carefree, chatting and smoking. I changed direction.
    â€œI wasn’t expecting you,” said Gemma in a voice that quavered slightly.
    I extended my foot inside the door and then withdrew it quickly. “I can come in or I can pretend I was never here. What should I do?”
    She swallowed. “You can come in, if you want.”
    I did the same thing with my foot, but very slowly this time. “This game has different rules: I’ll come in only if you ask me. I promise you, though, if I come in, nothing will ever be the same.”
    â€œAre you trying to scare me?”
    â€œI just want you to be well aware of what’s going to happen,” I murmured. “I’m the Big Bad Wolf, and I gobble up Little Red Riding Hood and then I take the grandmother and the hunter and I fuck them both in the ass.”
    She closed her eyes to enjoy the shiver that was running up and down her back. “Come in.”
    I left the apartment a few hours later. Gemma, nude and drunk, was smoking and crying, curled up on a sofa.
    My wife was on the sofa too. She must have waited up for me and then fallen asleep. On the large and expensive plasma screen scenes from an old television series were flowing past. I went to take a shower to get the smell of Gemma off me.
    â€œSorry if I fell asleep,” Martina apologized the next morning as she poured my coffee. “You must have come home late and I didn’t hear you.”
    I said nothing. I just looked at her. Actually I was thinking about something else, and specifically I was musing that I couldn’t believe that Brianese would take the risk of making use of a network of women of easy virtue without a corresponding certificate guaranteeing