Read Online Adam's Rib by Antonio Manzini - Free Book Online

Aosta. Sort of like when you’re south of the equator, where the water goes down the drain spinning counterclockwise.
    â€œWe need to enter the apartment, Carini. This is the victim’s husband.”
    The special agent looked at Patrizio Baudo, still dressed in his biking gear. “I should actually talk to my boss . . . let me call him right now and—”
    â€œYou don’t need to talk to anyone. Give us some shoe protectors and latex gloves and stop busting my chops.”
    The special agent nodded. “Certainly. Wait here, I’llbring you everything you need.” He walked over to the van, where his colleague was all ready with briefcase and biohazard suit.
    Patrizio looked at the building as if this were the first time in his life he’d seen it. “Is . . . is my wife still upstairs?”
    â€œI don’t think so, Signor Baudo.” Rocco turned to a young officer standing guard outside the ground floor entrance. “Has the morgue truck been by already?”
    The young man nodded.
    â€œWho’s up in the apartment?”
    â€œScipioni, I think.”
    Rocco looked at Patrizio. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”
    â€œCertainly. It’s my home.”
    PATRIZIO COULDN’T SEEM TO MAKE UP HIS MIND TO enter the apartment. He just stood there, with the paper cap on his head, wearing latex gloves and plastic overshoes, looking at the front door from the landing while the policemen readied their gear. Officer Scipioni, who was standing sentinel outside the apartment, was engaged in a conversation with a very elderly woman, pale as a sheet with blue hair that matched her dressing gown. There were punks on the King’s Road in the late seventies who wouldn’t have dared to try out her look, Rocco mused as he considered her hair. The woman was nodding her head, holding both hands to her face.
    â€œShall we go in?” asked Rocco.
    Patrizio opened the door and the hinges creaked.
    â€œThere’s been a break-in!” exclaimed Officer Carini as he studied the lock.
    â€œNo. That was me, the first time I went in,” Rocco replied. Next came the master of the house.
    Baudo walked slowly, unspeaking, his eyes focused and sad. He shot a glance at the French door that led onto a small balcony. Someone had put his bicycle out there. The first thing he did was bring the bike in and lean it against the credenza in the living room. Rocco’s alert eyes caught every detail: the man seemed to be caressing a daughter, not a piece of athletic equipment. “It’s a Colnago . . . more than six thousand euros,” he said, as if that was justification enough. “Where . . . where did you find her?” Rocco pointed to the den. Patrizio silently moved toward the room, softly as a shade. He opened the door. The cable dangled from the lamp hook. He stood in the doorway, gazing silently. It seemed as if he was sniffing the air. Then he heaved a deep sigh and went back to the bedroom. “We only have one thing of real value in the apartment,” he said as he walked by the deputy police chief.
    As soon as he saw the room, he jerked in alarm. “They’ve been in here too . . .” He went to pull open the drawer of a small side table under the window. Then his eye lit on the blue velvet box that Rocco had set on the tabletop. He looked inside, with a bitter smile. “So they found it.”
    â€œWhat was in it?”
    â€œIt’s where we kept our gold.”
    â€œYour gold?”
    â€œYes. Nothing much. A watch, a few bracelets, my cuff links, and a brooch that my mother had given Esther. A pretty pin, with a peacock. With green and blue stones. It belonged to my grandmother, just think.” He sat down on the bed. Tears poured from his eyes like an open faucet. “Is that all my wife’s life was worth?”
    â€œYou did all right, my wife’s wasn’t even worth a euro. Just the price of a