Read Online The Fatal Touch by Conor Fitzgerald - Free Book Online
Authors: Conor Fitzgerald
Tags: Suspense
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listed in the Rome business directory as ‘specializing in Old Master paintings and drawings,’ and ‘original reproductions.’ By the way, did you get hold of Sovrintendente Grattapaglia?”
“He’s on his way,” said Caterina. “Two minutes. He was still going door-to-door.”
“Good,” said Blume. “Actually, Treacy’s gallery I just mentioned, it’s not on Via Giulia but on a side street named—can you guess?”
Caterina looked around her in search of clues, then shrugged.
“Via in Caterina,” said Blume. “Pretty good, huh? Via in Caterina.”
“Mine’s a common name.”
“I’m still waiting to see a Via Alec,” said Blume.
“Well, was there ever a Saint Alec?”
“Not yet,” said Blume.
“Isn’t Alec short for Alexander?” said Caterina.
“Yes. I’m named after a gay mass-murdering Greek. My mother chose it. Your street’s about ten minutes on foot from here, so I suppose it’s quicker just walking there.”
“You say that like it was a problem.”
“It’s all a bit claustrophobic. You sort of want an investigation to expand, don’t you? First, we wait for Grattapaglia. After that, we start following the money.”
“What money?”
“The gallery has to do with money.” He drummed his fingers against the underside of his chin. “OK, so we’ve got: gallery, maybe a follow-up on any bartenders who saw Treacy, then a coordination meeting. What time is it?”
Caterina looked at her watch. “It’s just after ten o’clock.”
“Right,” said Blume. “Let’s make the meeting for 1:00 this afternoon, no, make it 1:30 so people can have lunch.”
“Why don’t you have a watch, Commissioner?”
“I hate watches. I never get used to the feel of one. I’m always aware of it being on my wrist.”
“But don’t you need one?”
“I can use my cell phone. It has a clock. Or I can just ask an insolent female officer to tell me the time.”
A raucous rasp sounded from the old Bakelite intercom hanging from the wall next to the bead curtain.
“That’ll be Grattapaglia,” said Blume. “We’ll go to the gallery, leave him standing outside to guard this place.”
Grattapaglia was standing in front of the green door, looking up at the wall, when they opened it. He took a step forward as if to enter, but Blume blocked his way with the bag, and said, “Here. Take this. Get someone to bring my car down here, put this in the trunk.” He dropped the bag at Grattapaglia’s feet and handed him the car keys. Then he leaned back and pulled the green door shut, which sagged a little thanks to his earlier efforts.
“How long do I have to stay here?” demanded Grattapaglia. “If you want me to do house-to-house and then those extra reports and write up this morning’s incident . . .”
Blume cut him short with a wave of his hand.
“We are having a meeting of the investigative team after lunch. At least until then.” He turned to Caterina who was hanging back trying not to overhear. “Come on, Inspector. Time for a visit to Treacy’s gallery.”
Chapter 7
Caterina and blume stood on Via in Caterina, looking at a shiny brass plaque set into the wall, with “Galleria Orpiment, 1º piano” etched into it. The door to the building was half open, and they stepped inside the small courtyard to find themselves before a wide stone staircase whose many shallow marble steps seemed designed to ease the task of climbing and to impress upon the visitor that this was a building with room to spare. Turning around on the landing at the end of the first flight, they were confronted with another, slightly steeper and shorter, leading up the piano nobile and the entrance to the gallery, which was marked by a high threshold topped with red marble and a faded coat of arms and the motto Ingenium superat vires . The large double-leaved oak door was open and led to a small access area fronted by darkened glass. Blume pressed the intercom and the door clicked open
“He’s on his way,” said Caterina. “Two minutes. He was still going door-to-door.”
“Good,” said Blume. “Actually, Treacy’s gallery I just mentioned, it’s not on Via Giulia but on a side street named—can you guess?”
Caterina looked around her in search of clues, then shrugged.
“Via in Caterina,” said Blume. “Pretty good, huh? Via in Caterina.”
“Mine’s a common name.”
“I’m still waiting to see a Via Alec,” said Blume.
“Well, was there ever a Saint Alec?”
“Not yet,” said Blume.
“Isn’t Alec short for Alexander?” said Caterina.
“Yes. I’m named after a gay mass-murdering Greek. My mother chose it. Your street’s about ten minutes on foot from here, so I suppose it’s quicker just walking there.”
“You say that like it was a problem.”
“It’s all a bit claustrophobic. You sort of want an investigation to expand, don’t you? First, we wait for Grattapaglia. After that, we start following the money.”
“What money?”
“The gallery has to do with money.” He drummed his fingers against the underside of his chin. “OK, so we’ve got: gallery, maybe a follow-up on any bartenders who saw Treacy, then a coordination meeting. What time is it?”
Caterina looked at her watch. “It’s just after ten o’clock.”
“Right,” said Blume. “Let’s make the meeting for 1:00 this afternoon, no, make it 1:30 so people can have lunch.”
“Why don’t you have a watch, Commissioner?”
“I hate watches. I never get used to the feel of one. I’m always aware of it being on my wrist.”
“But don’t you need one?”
“I can use my cell phone. It has a clock. Or I can just ask an insolent female officer to tell me the time.”
A raucous rasp sounded from the old Bakelite intercom hanging from the wall next to the bead curtain.
“That’ll be Grattapaglia,” said Blume. “We’ll go to the gallery, leave him standing outside to guard this place.”
Grattapaglia was standing in front of the green door, looking up at the wall, when they opened it. He took a step forward as if to enter, but Blume blocked his way with the bag, and said, “Here. Take this. Get someone to bring my car down here, put this in the trunk.” He dropped the bag at Grattapaglia’s feet and handed him the car keys. Then he leaned back and pulled the green door shut, which sagged a little thanks to his earlier efforts.
“How long do I have to stay here?” demanded Grattapaglia. “If you want me to do house-to-house and then those extra reports and write up this morning’s incident . . .”
Blume cut him short with a wave of his hand.
“We are having a meeting of the investigative team after lunch. At least until then.” He turned to Caterina who was hanging back trying not to overhear. “Come on, Inspector. Time for a visit to Treacy’s gallery.”
Chapter 7
Caterina and blume stood on Via in Caterina, looking at a shiny brass plaque set into the wall, with “Galleria Orpiment, 1º piano” etched into it. The door to the building was half open, and they stepped inside the small courtyard to find themselves before a wide stone staircase whose many shallow marble steps seemed designed to ease the task of climbing and to impress upon the visitor that this was a building with room to spare. Turning around on the landing at the end of the first flight, they were confronted with another, slightly steeper and shorter, leading up the piano nobile and the entrance to the gallery, which was marked by a high threshold topped with red marble and a faded coat of arms and the motto Ingenium superat vires . The large double-leaved oak door was open and led to a small access area fronted by darkened glass. Blume pressed the intercom and the door clicked open
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