Viper - Michael Morley [52]
‘Buon giorno.’ Filippo’s mother had bags under her eyes and no make-up. Her cream dressing gown was pulled tight to reveal a pale neck and fatty legs.
‘Claretta, is Rosa here? Is she with Filippo?’
The boy’s mother sensed worry rather than anger in her friend’s voice. ‘No, I don’t think so.’ She walked towards the back of the van, slid open a wooden door. The empty bed told its own story. ‘He’s not there, Martina.’ Fear creased her face as she stated the obvious. ‘He’s not at yours – not with Rosa?’
Martina shook her head. ‘Your car’s gone. Did you know that?’
Claretta stuck her head out into the wind and saw the empty space. ‘Oh, God. Come in and shut the door. I’ll wake Nico.’
And she did. But her husband had no idea either. Not about the kids. Not about the car. Nor did Cristiano when Martina called him over.
Claretta made coffee while they discussed the possibilities: an accident, an elopement, or something less dramatic and romantic – as Nico speculated. Maybe they’d parked somewhere and fallen asleep, run out of petrol, found a party and stayed but hadn’t rung because it had been late. None of them spoke of anything worse. But they all thought it.
Two hours later Cristiano rang the police.
41
Grand Hotel Parker’s, Napoli
Jack was still asleep at the hotel’s computer terminal when his cellphone rang. It flashed Howie’s number. He mumbled hello and checked his watch. Nine a.m. in Naples, three in New York. ‘You up early or going home late?’
‘Just got in,’ growled Howie.
The big guy sounded dreadful, no doubt plastered again. ‘What happened? You get lost trying to find your way around the whisky bottle?’
Howie let out a low grunt. ‘No. I was doing fine for sobriety. Then some robbing little punk in an alleyway knifed me in the ass. I’ve spent all night in the ER, having nurses stare at my butt and stitch up the wound.’
‘In the ass? Man, I’m sorry. You okay?’
‘Fine and dandy. I tell you, buddy, some little fucko nearly speared me right up the ring-hole. The nurse said if he’d put the knife train any deeper into the big dark tunnel then I would have bled to death.’
Jack screwed up his face in sympathy.
‘If you’re laughing, I’ll never talk to you again.’ Then Howie couldn’t help but laugh himself. ‘Okay, so I admit it’s funny. But listen, I think it’ll be a friggin’ year before I can sit down again, and Christ knows how much it’s gonna hurt when I take a shit.’
‘Too much detail. But, hey. I really am sorry.’
‘Sure. Anyways, despite my personal tragedy – which you see fit to smirk at – I still done good with regards to your man Creed.’
Jack raised an eyebrow. ‘Above and beyond the call of.’
‘Yeah, and don’t you forget it. So here you go…’ Howie growled again as he repositioned himself. ‘Let’s start at the hotel. No guests, no minibar consumption beyond some water, Pringles and two bottles of beer. Room-service dinner – only for one – and breakfast in his room too. Some photocopying and newspapers. You following me?’
‘Right alongside. Boring as hell.’
‘Sure is, but it gets a might more interesting in a few lines’ time. Remember the hotel receptionist you flirted with?’
‘Kind of.’
‘Polish woman, Brenda Libowicz, at the Lester. Anyways, she remembers you. I took her for that coffee you didn’t have time for and it paid off a little. Brenda let me go through everything and it seems your friend Creed pretty much had the porn channel on full-time.’
‘Old news. I thought I’d told you that?’
‘Not that I recall. But there’s more. Movie porn wasn’t his only turn-on. He also spent a lot of time on the Internet.’
‘You get browser data?’
‘Did Clinton get a blow job?’ Howie pulled over a computer printout that was lying on the table next to his notebook. ‘Creed did several searches on BDSM and watched some real hard-core adult sites. Get this; he specifically searched for dark-haired women who were between seventeen and thirty. He spent an hour on Court TV’s crime library reading stories about killers who buried bodies. He went through all our old friends including