She only noticed me as we were about to cross paths. “Ciao,” she said distractedly as we passed, and then she plunged back into the conversation with her friends. I was miserable for weeks-again-after that chance encounter. I decided that I’d never look at another girl as long as I lived and that I’d be unhappy forever.
I heard someone knocking on my hotel room door, and I realized I hadn’t even changed out of my bathrobe yet.
“Yes?”
“It’s me. Are you ready?”
“No, sorry. I had a few phone calls to make. I’m running a little late.”
“Why don’t you let me in?”
“Because I’m not dressed. Go down to the lobby and I’ll catch up with you in five minutes.”
“It doesn’t bother me. What, are you shy?”
“That’s right, I’m shy. Go on down to the lobby and I’ll catch up with you in a minute.”
As I was tossing my robe onto the bed, I thought I heard a burst of laughter moving away down the hotel corridor.
But maybe it was my imagination.
29.
I was down in the lobby five minutes later, as promised. Caterina was on the phone, and she snapped her phone shut as I walked toward her.
“I just spoke to Nicoletta. She’s waiting for us at her house. She said she canceled all her appointments this afternoon. We can drop by whenever we like.”
“Did you say that she lives over near Via Ostiense?”
“That’s right, right next to the Pyramid of Cestius. So let’s go get a bite to eat, then we’ll get a cab and go to her house. Sound okay?”
“That’s fine.”
“You decide where to eat for lunch. I’ll pick the place for dinner, okay?”
That was okay, so we went to a restaurant that I knew, near the Court of Cassation. We agreed that even though we were working that afternoon, we could have a glass of wine-just one glass. Then we agreed that drinking just one glass of wine is sort of depressing, so we should order a whole bottle. After all, we didn’t have to drink the whole thing. The restaurant was crowded, no one was paying any attention to us, and before we knew it we’d drunk the whole bottle. I was starting to relax.
Caterina said, “I’m ditzy sometimes, I know. I say things I shouldn’t and I only realize afterwards what I’ve done.”
She looked at me, evidently expecting a response of some kind, and I had the distinct impression that her meek confession was just one more component of a perfectly calibrated game of seduction.
After she realized I wasn’t going to answer her half-asked question, she decided she needed to provoke me further. So she ran a finger over the back of the hand I was resting on the tabletop. It would not be accurate to say that this met with absolute indifference on my part.
“But in a way it’s your fault.”
I took the bait.
“Why is it my fault?”
“All the men I know try to get me into bed, but you seem completely uninterested. I can’t say that I like it.”
“I’m glad that you broached this topic. It gives me a chance to provide some clarification,” I began, in a ridiculously condescending tone of voice.
“Go ahead, clarify away,” she said with a smile. She continued stroking the back of my hand. Although I tried, I didn’t have the mental fortitude to pull my hand away.
“You’re very beautiful, but for a variety of reasons I cannot even take into consideration the idea of… how should I put this…”
“Say it in your own words.”
“Well, that is, I cannot even take into consideration the idea of courting you, much less allow the prospect that something might happen between us.”
The prospect that something might happen between us?
Guerrieri, listen to the ridiculous fucking way you speak. The next time you take a girl out on a date, are you going to ask her if she would be inclined to take into consideration the prospect of establishing a relationship that might entail intermittent sexual congress? With that exact wording, of course, and reserving the right to cancel that contract by providing notice in writing.
“Why not?”
“Well, first and foremost, I’m working on a case, and it’s never a good idea to mix professional and private matters.”
Well put. A profound truth. Unfortunately, I happen to know that in the not-too-distant past, Guerrieri, you’ve been pretty flexible on that point.
“And second?”
“And second, aside from the work aspect, I’m twenty years older than you are.”
“So?”
“So, it’s wrong. There’s a vast gap in both age and experience, and there’s a risk that someone could get hurt.”
“You mean I could get hurt?”
“That’s a possibility.”
“Well, you’re pretty full of yourself. Pompous ass. Maybe you’re the one who could get hurt.”
“That’s another possibility that I would just as soon avoid. So in either case, I see a number of excellent reasons to let matters drop. And now I would say it’s time for us to get going.”
I thought I’d emerged with my dignity intact, that I’d acquitted myself graciously and well. As she stood up, however, she stuck her tongue out at me, and once again I had the feeling that I was playing a game that was slipping out of my control.
It took Nicoletta more than a minute to come to the door.
She was a tall, skinny young woman, pale and attractive, but dull looking. The kind who always looks much better with the right clothing and the right makeup. She had an expression that was neither amiable nor particularly intelligent. Caterina gave her a hug, wrapping her arms around her and holding her tight for what seemed like a long time. Then she introduced us. Nicoletta’s handshake was limp. The apartment smelled faintly of mothballs. There was no sign of anyone living there besides Nicoletta.
We walked down a dimly lit hallway to the kitchen and sat down around an old Formica kitchen table. There was something impersonal and a little stale about the apartment. There was something disagreeable-though hard to pin down-about its tenant. I thought a good investigator would ask to take a look at Manuela’s bedroom, even though all her things had probably been removed some time ago and there was probably a new roommate living in it now.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Nicoletta offered in the tone of someone who is obliged to provide the minimum required level of hospitality-but no more. We accepted, and she served us coffee in a mismatched set of old chipped demitasses and saucers. After finishing her espresso, Caterina lit a cigarette, leaving her cigarette case on the table. Nicoletta took one, too, and lit it with a series of overly feminine gestures entirely in keeping with her feeble handshake.
“All right, Nico. Counselor Guerrieri is going to ask you a few questions. Don’t worry, and answer them to the best of your ability. You’re not in any trouble. Like I told you, Counselor Guerrieri is a lawyer hired by Manu’s parents to find out if there are any leads that the prosecutors or the Carabinieri might have overlooked. That’s why he needs to talk to me, to you, in other words, to anybody who was close to Manu. But I repeat, you have no reason for concern of any kind.”
Caterina had taken on the posture and even the tone of voice of a cop with years of experience. It was an amazing thing to see.
“Okay?”
“Okay,” said Nicoletta, with a less-than-enthusiastic expression on her face. Now it was my turn.
“First of all, let me thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I’ll try not to take up any more of your time than necessary.”
She nodded, though it wasn’t clear whether she meant it as a gesture of courtesy or to indicate that it was best not to take up too much of her time. I asked her more or less the same questions I had asked Caterina, and she gave me more or less the same answers. Then we came to the point.