Read Online The Bastards of Pizzofalcone by Maurizio de Giovanni, Antony Shugaar - Free Book Online Page A

slightly; he decided he could stand the kid’s ravings if it meant saving the life of some innocent pedestrian.
    â€œI’m with you. Keep talking.”
    â€œYou know what they call the people who work here, the other cops in this city? They call us the Bastards of Pizzofalcone. Don’t you think that’s great?”
    Lojacono shrugged his shoulders: “I don’t think it’s anything, personally. What’s so great about it?”
    The young man looked hard at Lojacono and just missed a bicyclist, who veered sharply away and rode right up onto the sidewalk.
    â€œWhat’s great about it is that if we do something good, then we become heroes; and if we don’t do anything at all, then things remain as they were.”
    â€œListen, Aragona, don’t you care anything about doing a good job? What if someone wanted to be a cop just so he could be a cop?”
    The officer put on an offended expression: “Why on earth would you say that? Of course that’s the most important thing. It’s just that a person has to think about his career too, doesn’t he? Certainly, if you’re someone they’ve put out with the trash—someone like the four of us—it’s harder to prove that you know how to do your job right. But that’s exactly why it’s so exciting.”
    â€œPut out with the trash? That’s overstating things, isn’t it?”
    Aragona turned serious.
    â€œListen to me, I’ve seen the files. I can tell you for sure, every one of us is tarred by some black mark. Take Di Nardo: the quiet girl, the one who loves guns. You know you’re not supposed to carry loaded weapons with the safety off inside the station house: that’s against the rules. Well, she actually discharged her firearm inside the building. And she came
that
close to killing another cop. Can you imagine?”
    As he was being tossed between car door and seat, Lojacono was forced to admit: “Just think, that little girl. I would never have taken her for a pistolero. And the other guy, what’s his name . . .”
    â€œRomano, Francesco Romano. You know what his fellow cops used to call him? They called him Hulk. Behind his back, though, or he’d rip their heads off. He can’t control his own strength, much less his anger. The third time he grabbed a suspect by the throat, they suspended him. When he went back on duty, they sent him straight here.”
    Lojacono nodded.
    â€œMmm, he did seem a little on edge, that’s true. And we know everything about me. But what about you, Aragona? Do we know everything about you?”
    The young man turned defensive.
    â€œWell, my good Lojacono, in my case, the fact that I’m . . . that I have a certain name seems to have created overblown expectations. And when everyone’s looking over your shoulder, you wind up doing something stupid. Or other people make you do something stupid. But I don’t give a damn, and sooner or later I’m going to show everyone just how wrong they were. Maybe with your help. Well, here we are, this is the place. You see what I mean? It only took a couple of minutes.”
    Lojacono catapulted himself out of the car.
    â€œOne of these days I’ll have to remember how you’re supposed to thank God for still being alive. Let’s make one thing perfectly clear: next time, I’m driving. Come on, let’s go.”
    And they got out of the car, battered by the wind and the spray from the sea that reached all the way onto the street.

XIV
    I n spite of the blustery weather, a small crowd had gathered outside the entrance to the building. The door was on the side of the building, not along the façade that overlooked the sea, and you reached it by walking through the piazza that opened out away from the waterfront, its other side adjoining the large park that was the Villa Comunale.
    Lojacono, raising his voice to be heard over the wind,