City of Devils: A Novel Read Online Free PDF

capital idea, don’t you think, Marshal, Signor Tullio?’
    They looked at each other and both nodded reluctantly. The photographer and the artist parted slightly and began their work. Suddenly there was a flash and a bang and everyone jumped – Machinetti almost fell off his shooting stick. The photograph had been taken. Not long after that the artist folded up his sketchbook after giving his drawing to Machinetti who folded it and thrust it into his pocket. Clearly keeping it away from Tullio was more important to him than avoiding creases.
    ‘Now perhaps we could examine the note?’ Lombroso said, a little impatiently.
    ‘Indeed, Professor,’ Tullio said, nodding at Giardinello who looked over to Machinetti for the marshal’s approval. There was a long pause. Tullio sighed with irritation. Finally, Machinetti nodded to Giardinello who approached the body and removed the note, gingerly holding it between his thumb and forefinger. Lombroso nodded his assent to Ottolenghi who took it carefully, peered at it and then handed it to the professor.
    James craned his neck in order to get a better view. ‘Odd colour of ink,’ he observed.
    Lombroso took the note and looked at it. James saw him pause, just for an instant, as he read it. Then the scientist in him took over. He sniffed it, his nose twitching like an inquisitive rabbit. Finally he held it up to the light. ‘That is no ink, my young friend – that is blood.’
    Those at the front of the crowd gasped and there was an audible murmuring as the news was passed to the back. Lombroso beckoned to James and handed him the note. ‘Now, Murray, tell us what you see. Remember, be precise.’
    ‘It says—’
    ‘No, not what it says. What can you see ?’ Lombroso said impatiently.
    James looked at it carefully and heard the words of his teacher, Dr Bell, urging him to start with the obvious and then look behind it. ‘The writing is not erratic,’ he began. ‘Indeed it is penned in a very neat hand.’
    ‘Penned you say,’ Lombroso said. ‘Are you certain? What has been used to write it – a pen, a stick, a finger?’
    There was a pause as James squinted at the writing before him. ‘It looks like a pen – it’s a neat hand, no smudges. There’s some staining, presumably from the victim’s nose but other than that it seems quite clean.’
    ‘Any other marks?’ Tullio asked.
    James shook his head. ‘None that I can see . . . oh no, wait a minute.’ He turned the note round. ‘There are some smudged prints on the back.’
    ‘Let me have a look,’ Machinetti said, snatching the note. ‘Oh, they’re probably mine from earlier.’
    Tullio stared at him incredulously. ‘You removed it from the body?’
    Machinetti looked at him in surprise. ‘Of course. I wanted to know what it said. It might be a clue.’
    Tullio shook his head and sighed. ‘I wonder that you bothered to replace it.’
    Machinetti smiled smugly. ‘I put it back, just as I found it.’
    Tullio gave him an exasperated look. James wondered why there was such hostility between them. After all, were they not both on the same side?
    ‘Exactly what does the note say?’ Tullio asked.
    Machinetti smirked and held it up. ‘See for yourself.’
    Tullio sighed. ‘Dr Murray, would you mind?’
    ‘Go on, go on. Let’s all hear it,’ Machinetti said.
    James read aloud: ‘ A Tribute to Lombroso .’
    The crowd gasped and murmured again. Lombroso stood silently and looked down at his feet. James stared at him. What could it mean?
    ‘It is, I am sure you will agree, not much of a tribute,’ Machinetti said. His eyes betrayed his evident glee at Lombroso’s discomfort.
    ‘No, indeed,’ Lombroso replied quietly, ‘but I can assure you it has nothing whatsoever to do with me.’
    ‘You are not familiar with the victim?’ Machinetti asked. ‘He was a thief who was well known to us – Giuseppe Soldati. Have you no memory of meeting him at any point?’
    There was a long pause as Lombroso