Read Online The Goodbye Kiss by Massimo Carlotto - Free Book Online

right away."
        "And
that's it?"
        "There's
one more thing, but it has nothing to do with pulling off the heist. Let's just
say it'll make divvying up the take easier."
        He
sneered. "How many you want to knock out?"
        "Two
are already dead, but they don't know it yet. The jury's still out on the
others. I was thinking of getting them all together for the split… and then
using your help to dole out some lead."
        He pulled
out a gun and poked it in my side. "You might get the idea to kill me
too."
        "The
idea might be mutual."
        Ferruccio
slipped the Beretta back into his holster and changed the subject. "So you
want me to get you some desperate characters, guys with nothing to lose."
        "Hard
to find?"
        He
burst out laughing. "Not at all. Once they were rare, but now they go by
the kilo. This country has turned into an elephant cemetery: they all come here
to die."
        He
grew serious again and started counting the cash. He stuffed my share into a
paper bag and told me to beat it. He'd get in touch on the cell phone. He
didn't ask where I was staying. Either he already knew or he didn't give a
fuck.
        I
hailed a taxi and had him drop me two hundred meters from the widow's place. I
found her still in dreamland. I lifted her bodily out of the tub and laid her
on the bed. Then I went back to the bathroom to look at myself in the mirror.
The cheek was swollen, but the wound had stopped bleeding. I ransacked the cabinet
and found disinfectant and bandages. I’d have a scar. In an emergency room a
surgeon could've closed the flaps of skin with a few stitches, but the cut
looked exactly like what it was: mutilation. Better avoid any complications.
The house was quiet. I threw myself into an armchair and smoked a cigarette. I
had to solve the problem of stashing my savings. I couldn't put the widow to
sleep every time I went out. What with the pills and the Fernet I'd kill her.
Too soon. I always thought she'd have to die. After the robbery I couldn't
leave behind a blabbermouth. At this point she knew diddly squat, but she'd
hung around hoods too long not to link my stay in Milano with the hit on the
armored truck. A heist worth half a million euros with two dead bodies on the
tarmac isn't the sort of news that passes unnoticed. If Ciccio Formaggio had to
be eliminated because he might let slip one word too many, the widow was sure
as shit to talk. For revenge. For the satisfaction of holding her head up one
last time. I'd have to find a way of getting rid of her without rousing
suspicion. The neighbors had already noticed me. I stood up and began to wander
around the joint, searching for a hiding place. In one room I found a wardrobe
that was too heavy for her to move by herself. I went back to the bedroom to
make sure she was still asleep. I divided the cash into bundles and slipped
them into freezer bags. Then I tacked them to the back of the wardrobe. I
pushed it against the wall and checked to make sure the bags couldn't be
spotted. It wasn't such a hot moneybox, but I didn't have anything better at
hand.
        I
changed my clothes. The widow had woken up but pretended to be asleep so she
wouldn't have to deal with me.
        "I'm
going out. You stay put and watch TV. You're paid to do this too."
        When
I reached the street, it hit me I didn't know where to go. I had no desire to
revisit the spots where I used to hang as an ex-con, flat broke and desperate.
I started walking aimlessly. It was a pleasant evening at the end of September,
and I walked on and on, window-shopping, people-watching. I stopped in a
restaurant filled with people eating, drinking, chattering away. I was the only
one who had nothing to do but take in the scene. I was on pins and needles till
the waiter served me my risotto. At a certain point, the chef came out of the
kitchen. From the way he acted I guessed he was also the owner. He began to go
from table to table,