“Then he didn’t go off his rocker,” I said.
“What?” Kaz and Harding said at the same time.
“It doesn’t fit. Who goes off his rocker and then executes a plan like that?”
“Someone crazy enough to murder people,” Harding said.
“That’s a tough one, Colonel. It sounds logical, but if someone is really crazy, as the law defines it, then he’s not responsible for his actions. But these are very well-thought-out actions, up to and including getting Danny in as part of the platoon.”
Kaz shook his head. “Then what happened with Galante?”
“Something that was a threat. A serious threat that had to be stopped in its tracks, and covered up with this card business. It has to be related to what happened at Bar Raffaele, which is why Inzerillo had to go.”
“Perhaps the killer wanted to be sent home, and Galante refused to give him the diagnosis he needed,” Kaz said. “He gets angry, and before he knows it, Galante is dead. Then he has to kill Landry, to keep it all a secret.”
“Or maybe it wasn’t combat fatigue at all,” I said. “Maybe Landry was helping out somebody who had the clap, asking Galante to treat him so it wouldn’t go on his record.”
“Venereal disease isn’t exactly rare,” Harding said.
“No, but perhaps a married man would not want it to be known,” Kaz said.
“Or a priest,” I said, fairly certain that Saint Peter was putting a black mark next to my name for even suggesting it.
“I’m heading over to see Kearns,” Harding said. “What’s next for you two?”
“I want to find the Carabinieri who came along on this joyride. They may know more than they’re telling us about Bar Raffaele.”
“Why do you think that?”
“A hunch is all,” I said. I didn’t want to complicate things by bringing up Luca Amatori’s stint at a Fascist concentration camp. That was my leverage, and I needed to keep it to myself. For now.
“Okay,” Harding said, rising from the table with his mess kit. “I’ll be back tomorrow at 1100 hours. Report to me then. I need to send Ike an update on the situation. You’ll find me with Kearns.”
That worked fine for me, since I planned an early morning visit to Le Ferriere. I wasn’t going to let Danny face the Germans alone, not with an American killer at his back. I knew Harding and Kearns wouldn’t be happy with my protecting Danny, or tipping off the killer. But it was my kid brother, so colonels and majors be damned.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
We found Tenente Luca Amatori at the Anzio Carabinieri headquarters, set up in a seaside casino pockmarked with bullet holes from the initial assault.
“Billy, Kaz,” he said, rising from his desk, which had originally been a croupier’s table. “I am glad to see you both. Is this a social call, or can I be of assistance?”
“We could use your help,” I said as I took a seat. Luca’s desk was filled with papers, lists of names and addresses from what I could see. An ornate white-and-gold telephone on his desk rang, and he ignored it, nodding to an officer across the room who picked up the call on another phone.
“Has it to do with the killings? The murders in Caserta?”
“Yes. We need some more information on the connection between Bar Raffaele and Lieutenant Landry.”
“But I already told you the little I know,” Luca said. “And we are quite busy, trying to provide for civil order.”
“How many men do you have here?” Kaz asked.
“One hundred and fifty.”
“Might not some of them know of Stefano Inzerillo and his bar?” Kaz asked. “Surely some of them visited it for personal reasons, while not on duty, of course.”
“I could ask, yes. But as you know, the American military police have jurisdiction in such matters.” Luca spread his hands and shrugged, to show how little there was he could do.
“We don’t need help with jurisdiction,” I said. “I want to know more about the prostitute Landry was involved with, and what happened to her.”
“Billy, how can I find a prostitute in Acerra while I am in Anzio?”
“Listen, I know cops, and cops talk about things that are out of the ordinary. Like an American lieutenant trying to talk a prostitute into going straight. It’s the kind of naive thing any veteran cop would get a laugh out of, you know what I mean?”
“Yes, of course. But you must understand, the times are not normal. There are so many Americans, and so many prostitutes. My men come from all over Italy, it is not as if they are all from the area and know everything that goes on. Believe it or not, some of them do not even frequent houses of ill repute.”
“It sounds as if you’re making excuses,” I said. “Is there a reason you don’t want to help us?”
“No, not at all. As I told you before, I have only been in the area two months myself. Some of my men even less.”
“Maybe you were taking bribes from Inzerillo,” I said. “It wouldn’t take two months to set that up.”
“You have no right to make such an accusation! Are you mad?”
“What, cops in Italy don’t take bribes?”
“Why are we even having this discussion?” Luca asked.
“Because we find it hard to believe that an experienced Carabinieri officer would have difficulty with such a simple request,” Kaz said.
“Nothing in war is simple,” Luca said. “And I do not take bribes.” He left the implication hanging like a fastball right over the plate.
“But Capitano Renzo Trevisi does?” Kaz said.
“The Capitano grew up outside of Caserta,” Luca said. “He knows many people.”
“People in Acerra,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Stefano Inzerillo, for one?”
“I would rather not say. He is my superior officer.”
“Luca, I took you for a rookie when we first met. A guy who got a fast promotion, maybe due to the war, but a rookie nonetheless,” I said.
“A rook-ee?” he asked, sounding out the word.
“Someone new to the game. I thought the same thing when you came with us to Acerra, to interrogate Inzerillo, since you spilled the beans about Landry being dead.”
“Beans?” He looked puzzled.
“Yeah. Don’t you watch gangster movies in Italy? That was a rookie move, tipping Inzerillo off, getting him even more nervous than he was. But now I wonder, were you in on it with your capitano? Were you feeding information to Inzerillo and keeping watch on us at the same time?”
“This is ridiculous! You and your American words, they make as much sense as your accusation.” He was right, I was making it up as I went along. I didn’t think Luca was in cahoots with Trevisi, but I had the feeling he was holding back, and pressure was the best way to find out what.
“Why did a Carabiniere in Acerra call you a Fascist? He said you were a friend of the Nazis.”
“I have no idea,” Luca said, waving his hand in the air as he looked down at the empty green surface of the croupier’s table.
“Was it because of what you did at Rab? At the concentration camp?”
His hand fell from the air, as if a puppet master’s string had been cut. “I am not a Fascist,” he said, sighing in a way that let us know he’d said it many times before. “I am also not a friend of the Tedeschi. What do you think this has to do with a bordello in Acerra?”
“I think it has something to do with your capitano. He has you under his thumb, and you feel you have to protect him. I’d say Inzerillo was paying him off, and you knew it. You tried to warn Inzerillo that Landry’s killer would be coming for him; that’s why you blurted out that Landry was dead.”
“If it is as you say, then you are wasting your time with me,” Luca said. He lit a cigarette, keeping his eyes on the pack, the matches, the ashtray, everything but me.
“No, I don’t think so. You don’t strike me as a man who likes working for a crooked cop,” I said, leaning forward until he had to look me in the eye. “I think you’re ashamed of something, and you know that protecting Trevisi is only going to lead to more shame and disgrace. Am I right, Luca?”