Read Online The Salati Case by Tobias Jones - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tobias Jones
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didn’t mind getting stung. No worse than a few nettles on a country walk. It cost next to nothing. You didn’t need more than half a dozen tools and a box of matches.
There was something peaceful to it. Maybe because they could so punitively defend themselves, there was a pact of gentility. If they had to sting, they died. If they stung, you were sore. So you were careful and respectful. You took their honey, but you fed them in winter, you kept them free of diseases. Or I did, until last summer.
The mites were everywhere. I tried being soft and hard. I used sucrocide and then chemicals, but nothing worked. In the end, I dug a hole in the ground, chucked the lot in there, and threw a match on top.
My phone started dancing on the dashboard. I put it to my ear and heard a young girl’s voice. ‘This the detective?’ The voice sounded soft and uncertain.
‘Sure, who’s this?’
‘My name’s Elisabetta di Pietro. You were with my mother this afternoon.’
I couldn’t work out how she had my number and then remembered. ‘And you found my card in her handbag?’
‘Her coat pocket actually.’ She laughed nervously. ‘Why is my mother hiring a private detective?’
‘She’s not.’
‘So who are you?’
‘I’m looking into your,’ I wasn’t sure how to say it tactfully, ‘into your father’s disappearance.’
‘You going to find my father?’
I made a non-committal noise.
‘I almost hope you don’t find him alive.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Because the thought that he’s still out there and, I don’t know, never wanted to see me …’
It made sense. If Riccardo was alive, he clearly didn’t care about her. When children are treated that way, they learn to reciprocate.
‘There’s no evidence that he’s dead,’ I said.
‘You mean you think he’s still alive?’
‘I doubt that very much. I think it’s very unlikely your father is still alive. But it is possible.’
‘And is my mother a suspect?’
‘Everyone’s a suspect.’
‘Except me.’ It sounded like she was smiling and I tried to imagine what she looked like.
‘You were two, right?’
‘Two and a bit.’ She laughed at herself. ‘I still say it like I’m proud of that extra bit.’
‘And when did your mother meet Giovanni?’
‘I don’t know. They’ve been together as long as I can remember. 1997 I think.’
‘And your uncle, Umberto. Do you see him much?’
‘Hardly at all. He calls occasionally. If he’s in the area he’ll drop in.’
‘He and your mother don’t see eye to eye?’
‘Umberto doesn’t see eye to eye with anyone.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘He only sees his own reflection.’
‘Says who?’
‘I do. He’s so vain he looks in the shop windows to check himself out. I’ve seen him do it.’ She paused. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t help myself being sharp with people. I’m, it’s like, I don’t know whether my father’s alive, whether my mother or my uncle were …’
‘What?’
‘Responsible.’ There was silence down the line.
‘You don’t know about your grandmother, do you?’
‘What?’
I waited, wondering whether the truth was a kindness or cruelty. ‘She died.’
‘Is that what all this is about? Nonna Silvia died? Is that it?’ She sounded as if she were losing control.
‘I’m sorry it’s me having to tell you this. She was buried this morning.’
There was a gasp and then the line went quiet. It sounded as if the girl was beginning to cry.
‘Listen, I’m driving. I shouldn’t even be talking on the phone. I’m going to do what I can to find out about your father. Just let me ask you one question. Have you ever been contacted by someone out of the blue?’
‘How do you mean?’ I could hear her sniffing.
‘Have you ever had any phone calls from a man wanting to talk to you out of the blue? Anyone ever hang around outside your school or write you letters? That sort of thing?’
‘No.’
‘All right, never mind.’
Back in
There was something peaceful to it. Maybe because they could so punitively defend themselves, there was a pact of gentility. If they had to sting, they died. If they stung, you were sore. So you were careful and respectful. You took their honey, but you fed them in winter, you kept them free of diseases. Or I did, until last summer.
The mites were everywhere. I tried being soft and hard. I used sucrocide and then chemicals, but nothing worked. In the end, I dug a hole in the ground, chucked the lot in there, and threw a match on top.
My phone started dancing on the dashboard. I put it to my ear and heard a young girl’s voice. ‘This the detective?’ The voice sounded soft and uncertain.
‘Sure, who’s this?’
‘My name’s Elisabetta di Pietro. You were with my mother this afternoon.’
I couldn’t work out how she had my number and then remembered. ‘And you found my card in her handbag?’
‘Her coat pocket actually.’ She laughed nervously. ‘Why is my mother hiring a private detective?’
‘She’s not.’
‘So who are you?’
‘I’m looking into your,’ I wasn’t sure how to say it tactfully, ‘into your father’s disappearance.’
‘You going to find my father?’
I made a non-committal noise.
‘I almost hope you don’t find him alive.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Because the thought that he’s still out there and, I don’t know, never wanted to see me …’
It made sense. If Riccardo was alive, he clearly didn’t care about her. When children are treated that way, they learn to reciprocate.
‘There’s no evidence that he’s dead,’ I said.
‘You mean you think he’s still alive?’
‘I doubt that very much. I think it’s very unlikely your father is still alive. But it is possible.’
‘And is my mother a suspect?’
‘Everyone’s a suspect.’
‘Except me.’ It sounded like she was smiling and I tried to imagine what she looked like.
‘You were two, right?’
‘Two and a bit.’ She laughed at herself. ‘I still say it like I’m proud of that extra bit.’
‘And when did your mother meet Giovanni?’
‘I don’t know. They’ve been together as long as I can remember. 1997 I think.’
‘And your uncle, Umberto. Do you see him much?’
‘Hardly at all. He calls occasionally. If he’s in the area he’ll drop in.’
‘He and your mother don’t see eye to eye?’
‘Umberto doesn’t see eye to eye with anyone.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘He only sees his own reflection.’
‘Says who?’
‘I do. He’s so vain he looks in the shop windows to check himself out. I’ve seen him do it.’ She paused. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t help myself being sharp with people. I’m, it’s like, I don’t know whether my father’s alive, whether my mother or my uncle were …’
‘What?’
‘Responsible.’ There was silence down the line.
‘You don’t know about your grandmother, do you?’
‘What?’
I waited, wondering whether the truth was a kindness or cruelty. ‘She died.’
‘Is that what all this is about? Nonna Silvia died? Is that it?’ She sounded as if she were losing control.
‘I’m sorry it’s me having to tell you this. She was buried this morning.’
There was a gasp and then the line went quiet. It sounded as if the girl was beginning to cry.
‘Listen, I’m driving. I shouldn’t even be talking on the phone. I’m going to do what I can to find out about your father. Just let me ask you one question. Have you ever been contacted by someone out of the blue?’
‘How do you mean?’ I could hear her sniffing.
‘Have you ever had any phone calls from a man wanting to talk to you out of the blue? Anyone ever hang around outside your school or write you letters? That sort of thing?’
‘No.’
‘All right, never mind.’
Back in
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