Viper - Michael Morley [80]
Pietro holstered his gun and stared into Paolo’s eyes. It was a look of controlled violence. A visual threat that stuck needles in the brain of anyone on the receiving end. ‘A pair of girl’s panties were found in your caravan. What were you doing with them?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘You don’t know what panties are?’
‘Yes, of course I do. But I don’t know about any in my van.’
‘Well, they were found in there. Nice yellow ones, G-string type. You know, the type that Rosa would have looked really sexy in.’
Paolo looked angry. ‘I told you – I don’t know any Rosa and I don’t know anything about her underwear!’
Pietro slammed a hand on the table and Paolo jumped back. ‘Let me jog your memory. Rosa is the dead girl we found not far from your van. She’s the pretty kid who was staying at your camp and whose brains were blown all over the inside of a car. The girl who, according to her mother, owned yellow panties, just like the ones we found in your caravan. So, I think you do know Rosa. And I think you’d better start talking to me now, before I charge you with her murder.’
Jack could see sweat rolling down Paolo’s cheek. Seconds passed while Pietro’s words sank in. Paolo rubbed away the salty drizzle from his forehead. ‘Franco, my cousin. I think he must have had the panties.’
‘Explain.’
Paolo sweated some more. Finally he gave up what he was holding back, ‘I’ve seen him with women’s underwear before.’
Pietro read his face – it was full of secrets. ‘What else, Paolo? You’re not telling me everything. What else about Franco?’
Paolo sucked in air. All the pressure in the world seemed to be on him. ‘Look, he’s my best friend. Franco and I are like brothers. I’m not saying anything else.’
‘As you like. But then you both end up in jail. We will find him, Paolo. It’s only a matter of time. You know that, don’t you?’
Paolo looked away. Stared at the wall. Stared at his hands on the table. Looked anywhere in the room except into the face of the cop who looked like he wanted to tear his head off.
‘Paolo, look at me. Pay attention. This is for your own good.’
He turned his head slowly towards the big policeman. Did his best to stare him down.
‘From what I know, your cousin’s not well. He’s sick and he’s in trouble. Unless you tell me what you’re holding back, things are only going to get worse for him – and for you.’
Paolo held his silence. Looked into the dark-brown eyes that were boring into him.
‘Paolo!’ Pietro slammed his hand on the desk again. ‘You want us to make a mistake? To chase after him and shoot him down in an alleyway? You want to risk all that?’
Paolo swallowed. Looked around. Fought the doubt in his mind. ‘He’s got a gun. My grandfather lets him use one of his guns to kill rats on the site. I looked yesterday, and it’s missing.’
61
Stazione dei carabinieri, Castello di Cisterna
Twenty minutes after Paolo’s interview, the photograph of Franco that his grandfather kept in his wallet had been copied and wired to every carabinieri patrol in Naples.
Sylvia and Pietro sat with Jack and compared interview notes. Soon, life at the Castellani campsite became clearer. The two grandsons collected garbage and burned it in the pit. It was Franco’s job to do the incineration, a job he guarded closely, one he liked so much he wouldn’t let anyone else do it. Paolo merely helped drive the van and load up. Old man Castellani wasn’t capable of even helping with the heavy garbage sacks, so they all agreed that he could safely be ruled out as a murder suspect. When it came to the night of the murders, Paolo had said he’d been asleep in his bunk – no real alibi. Nevertheless, it seemed to tally with his grandfather’s version of events. What’s more, none of the team felt Paolo alone had the potential to be a killer. He was too passive, too nervous. And then came the more obvious pointers. Franco was missing. What looked like Rosa’s panties had been found beneath what was now established as his pillow.