Free A Fine Line by Gianrico Carofiglio Page A

her, she was always hanging around the courthouse years ago, as a crime reporter: Annapaola Doria.”
    â€œDoria, of course I remember her. Pretty face, good figure. Now that you mention it, it’s true, I haven’t seen her around for a while. Why on earth would a journalist become a private detective?”
    â€œI tried asking her once, and I soon realized it was best to drop the subject.”
    â€œBut you say she’s good?”
    â€œVery good. She gets results others don’t even dream about.”
    â€œWhat would you say if I asked you to carry out a preemptive investigation, using this woman, to find out more about what’s going on before we take any formal steps with the Prosecutor’s Department in Lecce?”
    â€œWhat are you thinking?”
    â€œI don’t have any specific ideas. Anything we manage to find out – about the Mafioso and about the case they’re building – will help us to decide what to do next. I know several people in the police. In theory, I could ask any of them, but I don’t think they can be trusted any more about these things. It’s a tricky business. You talk to someone you consider a friend, and the first thing he might do is write a duty report and take it to the Prosecutor’s Department. Better to strangle it at birth, don’t you think?”
    Strangle it at birth. The expression bothered me. I had to make an effort to suppress my disquiet and say, all right, I’d talk to Annapaola and ask her if she was in a position to carry out that kind of investigation. I wasn’t sure it was possible, I wasn’t sure what she’d reply, but I’d try.
    â€œTo be on the safe side, I’d like to formalize this, if you have no objection.”
    â€œOf course not.”
    â€œThen I’ll immediately prepare a proxy document giving me authority to carry out investigations – I’ll make it general, without going into details – and you can sign it now. That way you won’t need to come back here. I’ll call Annapaola tomorrow.”
    â€œDon’t discuss it with her on the phone.”
    â€œDon’t worry.”
    Ten minutes later, I was walking Larocca to the door. On the threshold he hesitated for a moment.
    â€œGuido…”
    â€œGo on.”
    â€œI want to be treated like any other client. You’ll incur expenses with your detective. Can I pay you an advance? I insist on it. If you can tell me how much—”
    â€œYou will be treated like my other clients. But right now, it’s after eleven and I think it’ll be a bit difficult for me to take the money and write you a receipt. For the moment, it’s time to go home.”

8
    The next morning was full of things to do at the courthouse, the kind I hate. Engaging an expert for a pretrial hearing; examination of an individual in the police cells; hearings related to building violations. As far as possible, when there are tasks of this kind I delegate Consuelo and Maria Teresa, my other colleague, or, for simpler things, one of the trainees. That morning, however, there were too many things to do. We all went to the courthouse together at nine and got back to the office around lunchtime.
    â€œWho drank a whole bottle of wine?” Maria Teresa asked, a few moments after going into the kitchen to make herself a salad.
    â€œA client. A new one. We drank the bottle between us, talking about his case. I’ll tell you about it later. I didn’t take any girls to the sleeping quarters, I swear.”
    Maria Teresa rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders.
    â€œI can’t find Annapaola Doria’s phone number,” I said, dismissing the subject of my nocturnal drinking bouts in the office with my clients. “Can you get it for me, please?”
    â€œDo you want me to call her for you?”
    â€œNo thanks. I’ll do it.”
    Annapaola answered at the second ring. “Guido