Bambinella coquettishly tightened the silk kimono against his breast and put one hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.
“No one told me. But everyone in the city knows that yesterday the duchess of Camparino was murdered, and a girlfriend of mine who works as a maid in the building across the street told me that you and your commissario were there; why on earth were the two of you working on a Sunday?”
Maione, partially reclining on the large cushion, was fanning himself with his cap.
“What, do I have to explain my schedule to you? Not on your life: in this city not a leaf turns without everybody knowing the details. How can you do a job like mine if you’re working in the middle of a bazaar? In any case, yes, I’m here to ask you if you can give me any information about this duchess. In the quarter where she lived, nobody seems to know a thing, though of course everybody actually knows everything.”
Bambinella was toying with the pasta left over in the bowl, while Maione looked on hungrily.
“Eh, Brigadie’, the duchess. . That duchess has a story that for lots of us was like a fairy tale, the fairy tales they tell little children. Only, as you’ve seen, it’s not a fairy tale with a happy ending.”
“What do you mean? A fairy tale, how?”
“The duchess wasn’t born into money. She was a soldier’s daughter, and her father was killed in the war. But she was beautiful, very beautiful indeed. I knew a guy who lost his head over her, a silk merchant, if I remember right. But she had other things in mind, she wanted to be independent, she didn’t want to have to say thank you to anyone. And so she decided to become a nurse.”
Maione was doing his best to control Bambinella’s tendency to wander off topic.
“Yes, but when did she get married to the duke?”
“That’s what I’m telling you about, if you’ll only have the patience to listen. . So, the first duchess was quite the matron, a respectable member of the best society. Very religious, she spent all her time in church, helping the poor, in other words, the classic high society matron. Then she got sick, a nasty disease, you know that, no? The kind that starts with a bout of dizziness, a fainting spell. . Are you all right, Brigadie’? I don’t know if I like your looks today. .”
Maione feigned a kick from the pouf where he was sitting.
“Hey, don’t be a clown, I told you! I’m not sick, I’m healthy as a horse! Go on.”
“Eh, and such a lovely personality you have! So, to care for the duchess they hired Nurse Adriana, as lovely as sunshine and bursting with health. The sickness went on and on, and finally, to make that long story short, the duchess passed away. And the nurse hopped into the bed, in place of the sick woman.”
“When did this happen?”
Bambinella raised enameled nails to the tip of his nose.
“Let’s see, now. . ten years ago or so.”
“And how did the marriage turn out?”
Bambinella shrugged.
“And how do marriages usually turn out, Brigadie’? Fine at first, then worse and worse, and then, at the end, a disaster. Though I have to admit that when people marry for money, things usually go a little better, because at least both parties tend to mind their own business. Still, the poor duchess, God rest her soul, didn’t really know how to calculate her own best interests. And when the duke, who’s a very old man, fell sick himself, she didn’t shut herself up in the palazzo pretending to grieve.”
Maione listened attentively.
“What do you mean, she didn’t shut herself up in the palazzo?”
Bambinella snickered again.
“Brigadie’, there are times when you make me feel sorry for you. You live in a city like this one, you do the job you do, and still you don’t know the basic things that everyone else knows. That’s why I was put here, so that I can explain things to you. Between you and your handsome mute commissario who never laughs, you’re both a little cut off from the real world.”
Maione snorted in annoyance.
“What are you talking about, cut off from the real world? Someone has to keep their eyes on the serious matters, and not spend their lives gossiping about who’s climbing into whose bed. Now, go on, tell me.”
“It’s very simple: Adriana meets a young man just like her, cheerful, intelligent, and ambitious. They fall in love. It’s against his best interests, because it damages his career, and it’s against her best interests, because she’s no longer invited to the better salons and drawing rooms. Still, they fall in love and for love, they tell everyone to go to hell. This is the part of the story I like best.”
The brigadier finally felt he was getting to the heart of the matter.
“And just who is he, this Prince Charming?”
“Prince Charming would be Mario Capece, Brigadie’. The journalist who runs the Roma. The one who, apparently, in the end, killed the duchess.”
I’ll never see you again.
That’s the only thought in my mind, I can’t think of anything else.
Do you remember, the very first time? We were introduced, at the theater. They were talking but I never heard a word. I was lost in your eyes, in that smile of yours. I could feel the passion swelling inside me, the passion that’s never subsided.
I’ll never see you again. It seems impossible.
Your face in my hands. The scent of your skin. You taught me that it’s possible to get drunk without a drop of wine, as the song lyrics go. It all seemed wasted, the time I spent without you. Even my children were so much wasted time. Work was wasted time. Any price I might have to pay was a trifle, for an hour with you.
I’ll never see you again.
Your laughter, a thousand silvery corals on marble, the sound of life itself. I can’t believe it, I’ll never hear you laugh again. You drove me crazy, you made me sick with love. The purest happiness in the most completely impure embrace.
And the fury, the red fury of seeing you smile at another man, watching as you sneak a glance at him. I can’t believe that the last time my hand touched you, it was to hurt you. I can’t believe it.
And I can’t believe that I’ll never see you again.
A moment’s silence followed Bambinella’s statement; from the window, along with the baking heat of early afternoon came the sound of crickets and occasional birdsong. Maione knew his informant’s tendency to exaggerate and over-dramatize, but he was still impressed.
“What do you mean, ‘apparently killed her’? How do you know that Capece murdered the duchess?”
Bambinella shook her head, opening her heavily mascaraed eyes wide.
“No, Brigadie’, don’t try to put words in my mouth that I never said. I don’t know who murdered the duchess. In fact, I have to tell you that I hope it wasn’t Capece. I’m very fond, you know, of love stories, but I don’t like murder stories one bit, on the other hand.”
“So what? We’re not in a theater, where you have to like how the story ends. Did Capece murder his lover or not?”
“How would I know, Brigadie’? All I can tell you is that everyone’s convinced that it really was him. The fact is that Donna Adriana was one of those women who loved to drive men out of their minds, and she knew how to do it. If you ask me, she really was in love with Capece, but even so she was always a bit of a slut. And Saturday night at the Salone Margherita the thing happened, and it happened bad.”
Maione was having a hell of a time keeping the conversation on subjects that he wanted to know about.
“What thing happened Saturday night? Bambine’, I beg of you: it’s hot out, my head is spinning, and I’m dying of hunger here, I can’t eat and I can’t tell you why. Don’t you get started too, now. Tell me what you want to tell me, and don’t waste my time.”
“Oooh, Brigadie’, are you on a diet? But why, you’re so charming the way you are, a man with girth and presence?”