Liar Moon Read Online Free PDF Page B

appears in his records.”
    “I thought you said you knew nothing of his affairs.” Having lit his cigarette, Bora deftly dropped the lighter into the rigid palm of his left hand, and then slipped it into his pocket. “But I’m sure it’s as you say.”
    Claretta put the Pomeranian down on the magenta flowers of the deep-piled carpet. The gesture of relinquishing the little dog had no pretence, no intended effect. She was weak, and afraid. “Gentlemen,” she said, “I understand how things are. Vittorio was powerful and had many friends, and I’m just a poor ex-secretary. I know I’m expendable when it comes down to it. But
I did not kill him, though God knows how many times the thought crossed my mind. Especially when he’d grope for somebody new under my very eyes, so shamelessly, so without a care…” Her voice broke down, and she turned away from the men. For a few moments she sobbed, tight-lipped, with her eyes averted. When Guidi offered her his starched handkerchief, she held it against her lips and then dabbed her eyes with it, still weeping, careful not to smear mascara on her cheeks.
    Unmoved in his armchair, Bora suffered the Pomeranian to salivate greedily on his well-greased riding boots. Even before finishing his cigarette, he stretched over to smother it in the pink ashtray. “I am certain you have already told the police, Signora Lisi, but where were you at the time your husband was killed?”
    Claretta sobbed into Guidi’s handkerchief, but Bora pressed on.
    “What I really mean is, were you alone or do you have witnesses for your alibi?”
    “Major,” Guidi cut in, “give her time to catch her breath. Can’t you see how upset she is?”
    Bora gave a discreet kick to the dog, which pulled back from him with a show of teeth. “You ask her, then.”
     
    By the time they left Claretta’s flat, Guidi had quietly worked up an anger toward Bora, whose energetic limp reached the street ahead of him. Bora made things worse by light-heartedly observing, “No love lost there, eh?”
    It was the last straw as far as Guidi was concerned. “It seems to me you were just plain rude.”
    “Rude? I’m never rude. Straightforward, maybe. She’s a murder suspect; why on earth should I be engaging
toward her? She means nothing to me, and her tears leave me cold.”
    “All the same, Major, you could have achieved the same end by being less straightforward .”
    Bora stopped at the kerb, where driver and BMW waited. He’d removed his right glove to shake hands with Claretta, and now he put it back on, helping himself with his teeth. It was done unaffectedly, but Guidi did not believe that ease, and did not feel sympathy for the self-command behind it.
    Bora said, “Frankly I don’t think there’s much else to find out about this story, but I’ll go along with Colonel Habermehl’s wishes. I’ll give the Fascists a few days of brain work.” He turned sharply to face Guidi. “Let’s pay a visit to De Rosa at his headquarters before we drive back. Is there petrol in your car?”
    “About half a tank. Why?”
    “Take this coupon and fill her up. I want to ride with you and chat on the way to De Rosa’s. What is it?” He smiled at Guidi’s puzzlement. “It’s just that there’s less chance of getting a grenade in your lap if the licence plate isn’t German. Or do you trust your compatriots more than I do?”
    Centurion De Rosa didn’t know what to make of Guidi when Bora introduced him. That he was displeased by the interference showed only through an occasional convulsion of his upper lip, where the moustache humped and stretched.
    “Inspector Guidi is a loyal, card-carrying Party member,” Bora mollified him.
    With unconcealed contempt, De Rosa ran his eyes down Guidi’s civilian garb. “Well, I assume you know what you’re doing, Major Bora. What can I do for you?”

    “I’d like to hear additional recollections of Vittorio Lisi.”
    De Rosa walked back to his desk. Behind it,