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Authors: Marco Vichi
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upset.’
‘I should think you would have learned that by now.’
‘It was just an offhand question.’
Bordelli kept studying the ring as if the killer’s name were somehow written on it. The doctor removed his gloves and went to wash his hands. Three times, as usual. He already seemed to have calmed down.
‘I’ll be done with this one fairly soon,’ he said, drying his hands carefully.
‘But don’t expect any big surprises. The cause and time of death are already pretty well established.’ The inspector put the forceps down.
‘Stabbed to death with a pair of scissors in the neck,’ he said, stating the obvious.
‘That’s right,’ said the doctor, half closing his eyes like a schoolmaster pleased with his pupil.
‘When did he die?’
‘Almost certainly last Friday, but as I said, it’s impossible to say at what time of day.’
‘Too bad,’ said Bordelli, thinking that this made the whole thing more difficult.
‘I’m almost positive the killer is left-handed, but I still need to check a few things.’
‘ Almost positive doesn’t sound like you,’ said Bordelli.
‘Actually I wasn’t even going to tell you,’ said Diotivede, taking his glasses off to clean the lenses. He did this dozens of times a day. It was a long process that he executed very methodically.
It was through those lenses that he saw the world, and he wanted them always immaculate. Bordelli brought the ring into the light again and examined it for a few seconds more. Then he walked towards Diotivede, holding the forceps in the air.
‘I’m going to keep this,’ he said.
‘As you wish.’
‘Will you wrap it up for me?’
‘There are some small envelopes in that drawer.’
The inspector put the ring in an envelope, which he then put in his pocket.
‘And please don’t ask me to go to the pointless trouble of reporting this. Since, at any rate, only you and I know about it,’ he said.
‘I trust you … but if you sell it, we go fifty-fifty.’
‘Absolutely. Then we can open a Swiss bank account.’
‘I think I’d rather stuff the money into my mattress than give it to those milksops,’ said Diotivede with a sneer.
‘You doing anything for Christmas?’ Bordelli asked.
‘I think I’ll go to bed early,’ the doctor said, still wiping his lenses with a piece of cloth. When he took his glasses off, his face changed; it looked empty, almost funny.
‘Aren’t you going to see your relatives?’ Bordelli asked
‘I’m invited for lunch on the twenty-fifth, as always.’
‘If you like, we can have dinner at my place on the evening of the twenty-fourth. We’ve known each other for so long and we’ve still never spent Christmas together.’
The doctor put his glasses back on.
‘I’ll think about it,’ he said.
‘But don’t expect any presents.’
‘You could have let me get my hopes up,’ said Diotivede.
‘We’ll have a nice big dinner, like two years ago. We’ll drink a little wine and talk about women … What do you say?’
‘I’ll think about it.’
‘Well, let me know soon. Christmas is just around the corner.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ the doctor said for the third time.
‘All right, then. If you have any news about our friend Badalamenti, ring me immediately.’
‘There won’t be any news.’
‘You could have let me get my hopes up,’ said the inspector.
‘I’ll give you a ring when I’ve finished with him.’
Diotivede nodded goodbye, and as Bordelli was heading for the door, the doctor started putting the instruments he’d used in a tub of disinfectant.
Around half past four, the inspector parked his car in Piazza del Carmine, right in front of Badalamenti’s building. The sun was setting and the street lamps were already lit. The dark sky had been threatening rain for hours, but nothing had happened yet.
Entering the usurer’s building, he climbed the stairs without haste. He was determined not to leave the flat until he found what he was looking
‘I should think you would have learned that by now.’
‘It was just an offhand question.’
Bordelli kept studying the ring as if the killer’s name were somehow written on it. The doctor removed his gloves and went to wash his hands. Three times, as usual. He already seemed to have calmed down.
‘I’ll be done with this one fairly soon,’ he said, drying his hands carefully.
‘But don’t expect any big surprises. The cause and time of death are already pretty well established.’ The inspector put the forceps down.
‘Stabbed to death with a pair of scissors in the neck,’ he said, stating the obvious.
‘That’s right,’ said the doctor, half closing his eyes like a schoolmaster pleased with his pupil.
‘When did he die?’
‘Almost certainly last Friday, but as I said, it’s impossible to say at what time of day.’
‘Too bad,’ said Bordelli, thinking that this made the whole thing more difficult.
‘I’m almost positive the killer is left-handed, but I still need to check a few things.’
‘ Almost positive doesn’t sound like you,’ said Bordelli.
‘Actually I wasn’t even going to tell you,’ said Diotivede, taking his glasses off to clean the lenses. He did this dozens of times a day. It was a long process that he executed very methodically.
It was through those lenses that he saw the world, and he wanted them always immaculate. Bordelli brought the ring into the light again and examined it for a few seconds more. Then he walked towards Diotivede, holding the forceps in the air.
‘I’m going to keep this,’ he said.
‘As you wish.’
‘Will you wrap it up for me?’
‘There are some small envelopes in that drawer.’
The inspector put the ring in an envelope, which he then put in his pocket.
‘And please don’t ask me to go to the pointless trouble of reporting this. Since, at any rate, only you and I know about it,’ he said.
‘I trust you … but if you sell it, we go fifty-fifty.’
‘Absolutely. Then we can open a Swiss bank account.’
‘I think I’d rather stuff the money into my mattress than give it to those milksops,’ said Diotivede with a sneer.
‘You doing anything for Christmas?’ Bordelli asked.
‘I think I’ll go to bed early,’ the doctor said, still wiping his lenses with a piece of cloth. When he took his glasses off, his face changed; it looked empty, almost funny.
‘Aren’t you going to see your relatives?’ Bordelli asked
‘I’m invited for lunch on the twenty-fifth, as always.’
‘If you like, we can have dinner at my place on the evening of the twenty-fourth. We’ve known each other for so long and we’ve still never spent Christmas together.’
The doctor put his glasses back on.
‘I’ll think about it,’ he said.
‘But don’t expect any presents.’
‘You could have let me get my hopes up,’ said Diotivede.
‘We’ll have a nice big dinner, like two years ago. We’ll drink a little wine and talk about women … What do you say?’
‘I’ll think about it.’
‘Well, let me know soon. Christmas is just around the corner.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ the doctor said for the third time.
‘All right, then. If you have any news about our friend Badalamenti, ring me immediately.’
‘There won’t be any news.’
‘You could have let me get my hopes up,’ said the inspector.
‘I’ll give you a ring when I’ve finished with him.’
Diotivede nodded goodbye, and as Bordelli was heading for the door, the doctor started putting the instruments he’d used in a tub of disinfectant.
Around half past four, the inspector parked his car in Piazza del Carmine, right in front of Badalamenti’s building. The sun was setting and the street lamps were already lit. The dark sky had been threatening rain for hours, but nothing had happened yet.
Entering the usurer’s building, he climbed the stairs without haste. He was determined not to leave the flat until he found what he was looking
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