“I’m sorry”-I turned to Alessandro, who had sat very patiently next to me, elbows on his knees, waiting for my eureka moment-“but I don’t recognize anyone.” I smiled apologetically at the female officer in charge of the computer, knowing full well that I was wasting everyone’s time. “Mi dispiace.”
“It’s okay,” she said, smiling at me because I was a Tolomei, “it won’t take long before we have matched the prints.”
The first thing Alessandro had done when we arrived at the police station was to report the break-in at the Owl Museum. Two patrol cars had been dispatched immediately, and the four officers had been only too thrilled that a case of actual crime had come their way. If the thug had been dumb enough to leave any traces of himself at the museum-fingerprints especially-it was only a matter of time before we would know who he was, provided, of course, that he had been arrested before.
“While we wait,” I said, “do you think we should look up Romeo Marescotti?”
Alessandro frowned. “You really believe what Peppo said?”
“Why not? Maybe it’s him. Maybe it was him all along.”
“In a tracksuit? I don’t think so.”
“Why not? Do you know him?”
Alessandro took in air. “Yes, and he’s not in that computer. I already looked.”
I stared at him, too amazed to speak. Before I could question him further, two police officers entered the room, one of them carrying a laptop, which he placed in front of me. Neither of them spoke English, so Alessandro had to translate what they were saying to me. “They found a fingerprint at the museum,” he explained, “and they want you to take a look at some pictures to see if anyone looks familiar.”
I turned to look at the screen. It had a lineup of five male faces, each of which looked out at me with a mix of apathy and disgust. After a moment, I said, “I can’t be a hundred percent, but if you want to know which one looks most like the guy who followed me, I’d have to say number four.”
After a brief conversation with the officers, Alessandro nodded. “That’s the man who broke into the museum. Now they want to know why he broke into the museum, and why he has been following you around.”
“How about telling me who he is?” I looked around at the grave faces. “Is he some kind of… murderer?”
“His name is Bruno Carrera. He’s been involved in organized crime in the past, and he’s been linked to some very bad people. He disappeared for a while, but now-” Alessandro nodded at the screen. “He is back.”
I looked at the photo again. Bruno Carrera was definitely past his prime. Strange that he would come out of retirement in order to steal a piece of old silk with no commercial value whatsoever. “Just out of curiosity,” I said without thinking, “was he ever connected to a man called Luciano Salimbeni?”
The officers exchanged glances.
“Very smooth,” whispered Alessandro, meaning the exact opposite. “I thought you didn’t want to answer any questions.”
I looked up and saw the officers studying me with renewed interest. They were clearly wondering what exactly I was doing in Siena, and how much crucial information I had yet to disclose about the museum break-in.
“La signorina conosce Luciano Salimbeni?” one of them asked Alessandro.
“Tell them that my cousin Peppo told me about Luciano Salimbeni,” I said. “Apparently he was after some of our family heirlooms twenty years ago. It has the benefit of being true.”
Alessandro made my case as best he could, but the police officers were not satisfied and kept asking for more details. It was an odd power struggle, for they obviously respected him very much, and yet there was something about me and my story that just didn’t fit. At one point they both left the room, and I turned to Alessandro, mystified. “Is that it? Can we go now?”
“You really think,” he said, wearily, “they’ll let you go before you explain to them why your family is involved with one of Italy’s most wanted criminals?”
“Involved? All I said was that Peppo had a suspicion-”
“Giulietta”-Alessandro leaned towards me, not wanting anyone else to overhear us-“why didn’t you tell me about all this?”
Before I could reply, the officers returned with a printout of Bruno Carrera’s file, asking Alessandro to question me about a specific passage.
“It seems you’re right,” he said, skimming through the text. “Bruno used to do odd jobs for Luciano Salimbeni. He was arrested once, and told them some story about a statue with golden eyes-” He looked at me, trying to gauge my honesty. “Do you know anything about that?”
A little shocked by the fact that the police knew about the golden statue-even if what they knew was not accurate-I nevertheless managed to shake my head vigorously. “No idea.”
For a few seconds, our eyes were locked in a silent battle, but I did not budge. Eventually, he returned to the printout. “It looks like Luciano might have been involved in your parents’ deaths as well, just before he went missing.”
“Missing? I thought he was dead.”
Alessandro did not even look at me. “Careful. I am not going to ask you who told you that. Am I correct in assuming that you do not intend to tell these officers any more than you already have?” He glanced at me for confimation, then continued, “In that case I suggest you start looking traumatized, so we can get out of here. They’ve already asked for your Social Security number twice.”
“Lest we forget,” I said under my breath, “you were the one who dragged me in here!”
“And now I am dragging you out again.” He put an arm around me and stroked my hair as if I needed comforting. “Don’t be upset about Peppo. He will be fine.”
Playing along, I leaned against his shoulder and drew a deep, tearful sigh that felt almost genuine. Seeing my emotional upset the officers finally backed off and left us alone, and five minutes later we walked out of the police station together.
“Nice work,” said Alessandro, as soon as we were out of hearing range.
“Likewise. Although… this has definitely not been my kind of day, so don’t expect pinwheels.”
He stopped and looked at me, a small frown on his forehead. “At least now you know the name of the man who followed you. Wasn’t that what you wanted when you came to see me this afternoon?”
The world had turned black while we were inside the police station, but the air was still warm, and the streetlamps cast a soft yellow light on everything. Had it not been for the Vespas shooting past us in all directions, the whole piazza would have looked like a stage setting in an opera.
“What does ragazza mean?” I asked. “Something nasty?”
Alessandro stuck his hands in his pockets and started walking. “I figured that if I told them you were my girlfriend, they would stop asking for your Social Security number. And your phone number.”
I laughed. “And they didn’t wonder what the heck Juliet is doing dating a Salimbeni?”
Alessandro smiled, but I could see that my question bothered him. “I’m afraid they don’t teach Shakespeare at the Police Academy here.”
We walked for a while in silence, heading for nowhere in particular. It would have been a natural time for us to part, but then, I did not feel like parting. Never mind the fact that Bruno Carrera might very well be waiting for me when I returned to my hotel room; staying close to Alessandro felt like the most natural thing to do.
“Would now,” I said, “be a good time to thank you?”
“Now?” He checked his wristwatch. “Assolutamente sì. Now is the time.”
“How about dinner? On me?”
My proposal amused him. “Sure. Unless you’d rather hang around on your balcony, waiting for Romeo?”