The Disappearance of Signora Giulia Read Online Free PDF Page A

looked at number 15’s pigeonholes. There it was, the name Luciano Barsanti, on the third one. I’ve got him , he thought. He ran up the stairs to find Barsanti’s apartment – third floor on the right – and then looked over the plan for that night.
    He was already on the spot by seven that evening, opposite number 15, in an old Fiat 1500 borrowed from headquarters in Rome. Officer Rotundo dozed at the wheel, his driver’s cap tilted over his eyes. Behind him, Sciancalepre and Officer Muscariello sank back in their seats, smoking. To pass the time, the Commissario made Muscariello tell him a bit about life in Rome.
    Every now and then someone went into or came out of number 15, ordinary people of no particular interest. When it got dark around nine, Sciancalepre had them move the car in front of the building’s entrance so he could see who was coming and going.
    At around ten, a couple came from behind the car and entered the hallway of number 15. Sciancalepre hardly hadtime to see the shape of a handsome young man and that of a woman who could have been Signora Giulia. He waited for his heartbeat to settle before leaving the car and going to the opposite side of the road, pretending to look for the best place to take a leak. All the while, his head half turned towards the building, he watched the third floor from the corner of his eye. He saw the lights go on. They were trapped now! He only had to let a quarter of an hour pass by while they got comfortable. And sure enough, ten minutes later in one of the third-floor rooms: a pink light. It had to be an abat-jour, a little alcove light.
    Sciancalepre felt in the pocket of his jacket for the paper with the official charge and made a move towards the car. He left Rotundo at the entrance and went up to the third floor with Muscariello.
    He pressed the doorbell. After what seemed like an eternity, a peephole opened almost imperceptibly, and a man’s voice asked, ‘Who is it?’
    ‘Police!’ said the Commissario, his mouth at the jamb. ‘Open up now or we’ll break down the door.’
    The door opened immediately, and a young man of about twenty-five stood in the opening looking serious and worried.
    ‘Let us in!’ Sciancalepre shoved the young man aside. Muscariello followed behind him, his hands in his jacket pockets. Sciancalepre moved the youth between them and pushed the door to. Then, standing in the hallway right under the young man’s nose, he said rapidly and quietly: ‘Luciano Barsanti, you’re under arrest. Come with me to the bedroom.’
    His head down, Barsanti led the Commissario towards an internal room. As they got closer a woman stuck her headdefiantly through the doorway. Sciancalepre stopped in his tracks and stared at her.
    He couldn’t stop looking at her, so anxious was he to make up for all the time that had elapsed since Signora Giulia’s disappearance, and to come to grips with the changes she must have undergone.
    But nothing could have explained such a radical transformation.
    Sciancalepre didn’t want to admit it even to himself, but this woman wasn’t, and never had been Esengrini’s wife.
    He turned to Barsanti. ‘Who is she?’
    The woman answered, ‘I’m the wife of Fasullo, the MP. What do you want with me?’
    Sciancalepre had pulled the charge from his pocket but it occurred to him that as far as this situation was concerned it was just a piece of paper. Sure, it mentioned Barsanti, but it certainly couldn’t be applied to this specific case. ‘In that case…’ he murmured to himself, ‘in that case…’
    He knew he was in a pickle. He’d rushed into things, albeit with an accusation in his pocket and a watertight warrant. But he found himself to have surprised only one of the accused in a crime not covered by the official charge. This crime was being committed with someone else; so it was another crime, and not the one specified by the current accusation. And now he had the wife of an MP in front of him! He