Free Gang of Lovers by Massimo Carlotto, Antony Shugaar Page B

she’s a ticking time bomb, and if we aren’t careful she’ll take us all down with her.”
    â€œAll right. Let me talk to her now.”
    Once again the cell phone changed hands. I caught the waitress’s eye for another aperitif. And another bowl of peanuts. That day I would gladly have eaten a bucketful.
    About twenty minutes later she returned to her seat. Her shoulders were slumped. “I’m not crazy, Signor Buratti.”
    â€œOf course you’re not. You just need a complete overhaul.”
    â€œThere is a note of hostility in your voice. Do you judge me for the way I behaved with Guido?”
    â€œI have my opinions on the subject,” I replied. “But you’re a client and I’ll keep them to myself. As you can see, I’m even pretending not to be offended by your insults.”
    â€œThen why did you accept?”
    â€œBecause two people who are secretly in love should be left alone. Instead, a man was kidnapped and murdered and the woman he loved has been blackmailed. In my world, these crimes are unacceptable, but that’s something you wouldn’t understand.”
    â€œNo,” she admitted. “And to tell the truth, the circles you move in don’t interest me. They only scare me.”
    I thought to myself that I’d never encountered a bigger bitch in my life. I moved onto practical details. “Does the apartment in Padua still belong to you?”
    â€œLet’s just say that I still have access to it.”
    â€œFine, and now I have access to it. And I’d say that fifty thousand euros would be an acceptable down payment.”
    â€œActually, I was thinking of a smaller sum.”
    â€œAnd you were wrong. Another fifty thousand if I solve the case. Plus expenses, obviously.”
    She stood up. “I’m tired, I’m going to get some rest. Tonight at dinner, I’ll give you the money and the keys. I always have them with me, in case Guido comes back and wants to see me.”
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    I paid the check and started walking back to my hotel. What I’d told the Swiss woman was only a half-truth. The real reason that was driving me to hunt down this gang of kidnappers was that it would keep my mind off my own problems for who knows how long. And the same went for Max. Investigating means starting down a tunnel where the darkness keeps you from looking around. Figuring out the truth about things that had nothing to do with me was a remedy for the emotional collapse I’d slid into after Sylvie’s suicide. Actually, it had always been this way. From the first case I’d taken after getting out of prison. The problem was that I was accumulating stories I’d have to settle accounts with someday, when the past decided that those bills had come due. Just not today, and not tomorrow either. Before then, I needed to solve the mysterious disappearance of Professor Di Lello.
    I phoned the fat man. “We have a client,” I began.
    â€œPartners again,” he said promptly, making no secret of his relief. “Is it routine or an ugly mess?”
    â€œIt’s a gigantic ugly mess. Nasty and foul.”
    â€œWhat kind of trouble has the lady gotten herself into?”
    â€œYou can’t even begin to imagine. I’ll tell you all about it when I get there, tomorrow or the day after, at the latest.”
    â€œMarco . . .”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œThanks.”
    â€œFor what? Before I called you I was just thinking that we needed something to take our minds off our nightmares. And luck stepped in. That’s all.”
    I stopped in a Chinese-run shop and bought a pen and a notepad. While I was paying for it, I ripped off the cover. It had a picture of such a sad-looking panda that it made you imagine all sorts of mistreatment.
    I wasn’t in the habit of taking notes. That smacked of TV detectives; but Oriana wasn’t going to be around in the near future and I needed to be