Read Online City of Devils: A Novel by Diana Bretherick - Free Book Online
Authors: Diana Bretherick
Ads: Link
sullenly as if sulking at their predicament. Then it was game, rabbits and hares hung upside down from butchers’ hooks, blank eyes staring into nothingness. Brightly coloured birds swung beside them as if still in flight. Nearby, haunches of unidentifiable animals marbled with yellow fat glistened in the sunlight as butchers’ muscled arms swung their cleavers into the yielding flesh. On the outskirts cheeses of all varieties were piled high on rickety tables, some oozing invitingly, others enclosed within white velvety rind waiting to be cut into to reveal the creamy white delights beneath. He longed to pause and take it all in, but on Lombroso strode, a man of purpose – and being Italian, that purpose was his lunch.
4
Criminals are generally very illogical and always imprudent.
Lombroso, 1876 p 72
When they arrived at their destination James’s first thought was that his definition of special was rather different from that of the professor. Their lunch venue was a trattoria in the older section of the city, near the river. It looked dilapidated to say the least. Its whitewashed walls were decidedly grey and the sign hung precariously by broken hinges. Inside it was dark and cool and the tables, benches and chairs that were scattered around the room were basic and uninviting. It occurred to him that this was more like a working-man’s eatery rather than the fine restaurant he had been expecting. James wondered how the food would compare, but it seemed that he was not to be disappointed for the aroma that greeted them was an appetising one of herbs and frying meat. And there, sitting at a table, evidently waiting for them, was Ottolenghi.
Lombroso held up a hand in acknowledgement and they made their way over to him. The table was tucked into a corner next to the kitchen and was rather small for three. Once seated, they were forced to hunch together as if keeping warm, elbows touching in an intimacy that James found unfamiliar. He noticed how Ottolenghi looked as if he had almost folded himself in two in an effort to get his long limbs into such a limited space. Every now and then the door swung open, giving an unedifying view of a fat, sweaty chef toiling over an open stove. The proprietor, a man greeted as Paolo by Lombroso, would run into the kitchen and hurl some colourful abuse at the chef who responded loudly in kind. James fervently hoped that the food was more refined than its creator.
Eventually Paolo came over to their table and spoke at length to Lombroso, who was clearly an old friend. They chattered away in what James assumed was Piedmontese, the local dialect, for he could only make out odd words and phrases. Lombroso gestured towards him and Paolo looked at him curiously and bowed. James stood up to shake his hand and found himself being embraced. Once released, he sat down again, confused. Such intimacy between men was virtually unknown in Scotland and he was unprepared for it. He looked around for menus but it seemed that the choice was to be made for them.
‘I will bring you what is good,’ Paolo said slowly in Italian, presumably for James’s benefit, and backed away to the kitchen, staring at James as if he was some kind of exhibit.
Lombroso sat contentedly viewing the grimy room. There were several other occupied tables and most of their fellow diners looked somewhat down at heel. James caught the eye of a man at the next table who smiled broadly at him, revealing a set of rotting teeth. An elderly woman eyed him suspiciously from a corner, gathering her basket to her as if James was about to rob her. On the other side of the room two other men were arguing vociferously about something, presumably a number of gold watches revealed in the coat of one of them as he held it open for viewing. A larger group of men sat at a round table in the centre of the room. Raucous and rough, they threw their heads back as they laughed and slapped their hands on the table when someone told a dirty joke.
4
Criminals are generally very illogical and always imprudent.
Lombroso, 1876 p 72
When they arrived at their destination James’s first thought was that his definition of special was rather different from that of the professor. Their lunch venue was a trattoria in the older section of the city, near the river. It looked dilapidated to say the least. Its whitewashed walls were decidedly grey and the sign hung precariously by broken hinges. Inside it was dark and cool and the tables, benches and chairs that were scattered around the room were basic and uninviting. It occurred to him that this was more like a working-man’s eatery rather than the fine restaurant he had been expecting. James wondered how the food would compare, but it seemed that he was not to be disappointed for the aroma that greeted them was an appetising one of herbs and frying meat. And there, sitting at a table, evidently waiting for them, was Ottolenghi.
Lombroso held up a hand in acknowledgement and they made their way over to him. The table was tucked into a corner next to the kitchen and was rather small for three. Once seated, they were forced to hunch together as if keeping warm, elbows touching in an intimacy that James found unfamiliar. He noticed how Ottolenghi looked as if he had almost folded himself in two in an effort to get his long limbs into such a limited space. Every now and then the door swung open, giving an unedifying view of a fat, sweaty chef toiling over an open stove. The proprietor, a man greeted as Paolo by Lombroso, would run into the kitchen and hurl some colourful abuse at the chef who responded loudly in kind. James fervently hoped that the food was more refined than its creator.
Eventually Paolo came over to their table and spoke at length to Lombroso, who was clearly an old friend. They chattered away in what James assumed was Piedmontese, the local dialect, for he could only make out odd words and phrases. Lombroso gestured towards him and Paolo looked at him curiously and bowed. James stood up to shake his hand and found himself being embraced. Once released, he sat down again, confused. Such intimacy between men was virtually unknown in Scotland and he was unprepared for it. He looked around for menus but it seemed that the choice was to be made for them.
‘I will bring you what is good,’ Paolo said slowly in Italian, presumably for James’s benefit, and backed away to the kitchen, staring at James as if he was some kind of exhibit.
Lombroso sat contentedly viewing the grimy room. There were several other occupied tables and most of their fellow diners looked somewhat down at heel. James caught the eye of a man at the next table who smiled broadly at him, revealing a set of rotting teeth. An elderly woman eyed him suspiciously from a corner, gathering her basket to her as if James was about to rob her. On the other side of the room two other men were arguing vociferously about something, presumably a number of gold watches revealed in the coat of one of them as he held it open for viewing. A larger group of men sat at a round table in the centre of the room. Raucous and rough, they threw their heads back as they laughed and slapped their hands on the table when someone told a dirty joke.
Similar Books
