Viper - Michael Morley [133]
The officer glared at the lawyer. ‘Your time of arrival is noted. Now, please take a seat.’
‘In a moment.’ Mazerelli leaned forward over the desk to check the time had been entered in the ledger. ‘Fine. Thank you.’ He touched Valsi on the shoulder and they settled in some black plastic chairs by a window. Valsi grabbed a magazine from a wobbly-legged table piled high with old reads.
‘Raimondi will be here shortly,’ said the lawyer. ‘With a little luck we’ll have all the formalities done within the hour. Then we’ll be out of here.’
‘No rush,’ said Valsi. ‘They can take as long as they like.’ And for once, he meant it.
Right now, there was nowhere else he’d rather be than in the company of the carabinieri.
8.20 a.m.
Capo di Posillipo, La Baia di Napoli
Gina Valsi’s hair was still a little wet. She and her son Enzo had been swimming in her father’s indoor pool when Don Fredo had been told of the guard’s murder. Not surprisingly, the Don had chosen not to say anything to his daughter as he breakfasted with her and his grandson in the conservatory.
‘You look tense, Papà,’ observed Gina. ‘Work is giving you problems already?’
He laughed dismissively. ‘Work is always giving me problems.’ He poured coffee from a silver pot. ‘You want some more?’
‘No, grazie. I have to get Enzo ready for the child-minder.’ She ruffled the boy’s hair as he dabbed a jammy fingertip into a plate full of croissant crumbs. ‘Go scrub your teeth. And make sure you do them properly.’ She bared her gums and waggled a finger up and down as he escaped to the bathroom. Gina turned back to her father. The top of his head was now all that was visible above a wall of newspaper. ‘I’m going to have Leonardo bring my car round. Papà, do you want me to call your driver too?’
Finelli didn’t hear his daughter; his mind was elsewhere, and not on the newspaper. Cicerone had some balls whacking his son-in-law’s guard. If they’d waited twenty-four hours then they’d have got their money in full. A generous amount as well. A pre-emptive strike like this was meant as a warning. Or a challenge. When Mazerelli was finished with Valsi, then he’d call him in. After that he’d ring Cicerone himself and see where they stood. He doubted Carmine the Dog wanted a war. But if he did, then he’d certainly give him one. A war to end all wars. Perhaps the killing was a way of hiking the settlement price up and showing his own clan that he wouldn’t be publicly disrespected. If that was the case, he could live with it.
‘Papà, do you want your car? You’re supposed to be at the doctor’s in thirty minutes.’
The paper wall crumbled. ‘Merda! I’d forgotten.’ Finelli sprang to his feet. ‘Grazie. I’ll be there in a minute. God, the traffic will be awful now. I should have left ten minutes ago.’
Gina smiled. Her father was growing increasingly forgetful. She and Enzo had lived with him for only a short time, but already it felt as if she were looking after two children. Yesterday he’d forgotten she was cooking dinner and he’d eaten before coming home. And now today he’d almost missed his monthly check-up and blood tests. His cholesterol had shot up over the past year and the doctor said he was now borderline for type 2 diabetes, hence the checks.
Enzo reappeared, toothpaste all around his mouth. Gina couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Come here. At least I can see you scrubbed.’ She picked up a napkin from the table and he wriggled while she wiped away his white moustache. ‘My sweet baby, you’re growing up just fine, aren’t you?’ She straightened his jumper, tucked in his shirt and kissed his head.
Then he hit her with it.
Straight out of the blue.
‘Mamma, why doesn’t Papà live with us any more? I miss Papà being with us.’
Gina caught her breath. What could she say to her beautiful baby-faced child? How could she explain that when his father wasn’t playing soccer with him in the garden he was torturing people and raping his mother? ‘He’s busy, Enzo. You’ll see him again, soon.’
Busy – what a great word to cover his father’s multitude of sins. The boy took it at face value and looked disappointed.