By My Hand Read Online Free PDF Page B

and I knock over one of the shepherds, I’m in a rush so I don’t stop to pick up the pieces. After all, with all that blood . . . Something like that, I guess.”
    Thinking out loud, Ricciardi said:
    â€œBut this room isn’t on the way from the door to the bedroom: you’d have to come here on purpose. No, if it was the murderer, he was trying to say something. But what?”
    Dr. Modo appeared in the doorway. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, his white hair was unkempt, and his hands were stained with blood.
    â€œHere you are, the two of you, in the full throes of a mystical crisis, kneeling before a nativity scene. What a moving sight to behold, the conversion of two hardboiled cops. What will the two of you do now, get thee to a monastery and cultivate your gardens?”
    Ricciardi easily got to his feet, and Maione struggled to do the same.
    â€œBruno, I’m happy to know that you appreciate spirituality. Why don’t you do like us and choose a mission of your own? I’m sure you convert the hundred or so Mary Magdalenes that you patronize on a weekly basis.”
    Modo laughed.
    â€œCan you imagine the faces of the young ladies, if I were to show up at the bordello with a cross in my hand? Maybe I’ll actually do it, just to see their reactions. Do you know how heartbreaking that would be for them, to lose a man like me?”
    â€œAnd one of their primary sources of income as well, I’d have to guess. Well, have you found something?”
    The doctor began cleaning his hands on a handkerchief.
    â€œWell, I’ll tell you, the autopsy of the woman by the front door was pretty straightforward. Someone, using an extremely sharp blade, decided to give her a nice second smile an inch or two below the one she was born with. A single blow, from someone standing in front of her, using the right hand. Incredible power behind it: just a little more and it would have taken her head off. It sliced through everything, larynx, sternomastoid, carotid artery. That’s where all the blood came from. It must have been quite a spurt.”
    Maione broke in.
    â€œSo, Dotto’, that means there’s a good chance the murderer got blood on himself, no?”
    Modo nodded.
    â€œNo doubt, Brigadie’. Unless he was quick enough to jump out of the way, he must have gotten some blood on his face and on his clothing. In any case, she died immediately, a matter of seconds. She didn’t even have the time to understand what was happening, fortunately. What I’m not so sure about is the husband. That’s a different matter.”
    â€œWhat’s different about it?” Ricciardi asked.
    â€œI’ll explain. In his case, the fury behind the attack was spectacular. The body has about sixty stab wounds, many of them inflicted after death, I believe at least half. The murderers must have had some very grave reason to hate him. They assaulted him while he was asleep, or half asleep; there’s no sign of struggle or resistance. I’ll have to do a close examination during the autopsy, but from what I can tell the victim’s nails are intact and there are no marks on the hands. However, and this is one of the curious things, after all this violence they laid him out neatly, straight as a board, and covered him with the sheet. Showing a respect they clearly lacked when they killed him.”
    The change from singular to plural wasn’t lost on Ricciardi.
    â€œExcuse me, Bruno: when you were talking about the woman you said ‘the murderer,’ as in one person, acting alone. But for the man, you said ‘the murderers.’ Why is that?”
    â€œThe old bloodhound doesn’t miss a thing, does he? You’re right, I used the plural. I’ll have to do the autopsy; then I’ll have more information. But judging from appearances, just based on an initial examination, it seems to me that the wounds on the man’s body must have been