Viper - Michael Morley [110]
‘My dear God, how perfectly terrible. What is the world coming to?’ Finelli made a passable attempt at sincerity. ‘And please, do forgive me – I just realized that I recognize your face. Aren’t you also heading the inquiry into the murder of that young woman – what was her name?’
‘Francesca Di Lauro.’
‘That’s right. I saw the press conference.’ He let out a playful chuckle. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. I was just remembering that journalist who threw you with a question about all those other missing women. Seemed a difficult moment for you. Are those cases all connected, as he said?’
Sylvia felt her temper rising, but she kept it in check, even managed an unconcerned smile for the old goat. ‘We have to keep an open mind. And, as I’m sure you appreciate, a press conference isn’t the best place to divulge our private thinking.’
Finelli nodded. ‘Quite so.’ There was a noise outside. ‘Wait a moment, please.’ He rose and left the room. Through the crack of the door Jack recognized the face of Finelli’s daughter. Gina looked fatter than in Pisano’s picture of her. His eyes dipped. She was holding the hand of a young child, probably her son. The boy lifted his face and opened his arms for Grandpa to kiss him. A touching moment and one that reminded Jack of how deceptive crime dynasties can be when you see them masked in middle-class normality.
A minute later, Finelli returned with a pad and a black Montblanc fountain pen. ‘The young lovers, what were their names?’
‘Rosa Novello, she was eighteen.’ Sylvia gave him time to write. ‘She was with nineteen-year-old Filippo Valdrano. Their parents expected them to get married shortly.’
‘I have influence in this community; I will ask for you. And the other victim, you have a name?’
‘We don’t. Not yet. Signor Finelli, we are wondering if these deaths are connected to that of a woman called Alberta Tortoricci. I’m sure you know her name. She was recently found dead in Scampia. Her body had also been burned –’
Finelli cut her off. ‘The whole of Italy knows I am aware of the woman you mentioned, and the ridiculous accusations she made about me. But I have no knowledge of her unfortunate demise.’
Lorenzo butted in. ‘We’re not seeking to hurt you on this. We’re merely trying to share with you the information that we believe the man who killed Alberta Tortoricci may be the same person who killed the people on the Castellani campsite.’
‘Excuse me,’ interrupted Jack, ‘do you mind if I use one of your washrooms? I’m afraid I really need to go.’
Sylvia and Lorenzo shot daggers at him. Finelli was on the rack. It was a crazy time to interrupt their flow.
‘I’m sorry, I have some stomach problems.’ Jack looked embarrassed.
The all-round discomfort seemed to amuse Finelli. He chewed back a wry smile. ‘Certainly. I’ll show you.’ He walked his troubled guest to the double doors of the lounge and pointed across the marble hallway.
Jack waited until he heard the doors click shut behind him, then confidently strode up the stairs. If he was stopped he would just say the bathroom downstairs was occupied or he was confused about directions.
As he hoped, Finelli’s guards were kept out of the private quarters. Windows, doors, exits and driveways are the places you mostly find mob muscle. Seldom are they allowed near master bedrooms. As he strode up the steps, he could hear Gina and the child playing in a room near the front of the house. On the top landing he opened doors quickly – and took in the facts even faster. Finelli’s room – neat, tidy, black suit on a hanger, silk-sheeted bed already made. Guest room – no one in it, no fresh flowers, no water jug or glasses by the bed, the room smelled of damp. Another guest room – windows partly open, a woman’s shoes on the floor, make-up and jewellery on an antique dresser, designer bags on the floor. This was where Finelli’s daughter was staying. He stepped in. The soft toys on the bed and a Lego spaceship