The Few Read Online Free PDF

centre of a large room. Exposed beams lined the ceiling, and diamond windows looked out onto the street, just as Arthur’s had done. It was a nice apartment, tastefully decorated: he took in line drawings in silver frames, expensive upholstery, silk scatter cushions. The apartment didn’t match its owner, somehow, and he wondered how she could afford it. Rents in Trastevere were high. He wondered how someone as young as Arthur had afforded it.
    â€˜Please make yourself at home — I won’t be a moment.’ She retreated into a back bedroom. Again, it had the same layout as Arthur’s place.
    He noticed some photos on a bookshelf, and walked over to take a closer look: there was a huddle of young people, a family, all from somewhere in Latin America maybe, with palm trees in the background and brightly painted houses. There were also a couple of portraits of a teenage boy, with something familiar in his features — maybe he was a brother or a nephew. He couldn’t find Miss Santa in the pictures.
    She was back in the room now, her hair scraped back into a ponytail, her face clean, dressed down in jogging pants and a sweatshirt. She had tied a silk scarf around her neck, but he didn’t understand why — it had nothing to do with what she was wearing.
    â€˜Can I get you anything to drink?’
    â€˜No, I’m fine, thanks — all dosed up on coffee already.’
    She smiled tightly and sat down carefully on an armchair facing him, as if she were a guest in her own home. He noticed that her hands were smooth and well manicured. The nail polish was a subtle colour, almost nude, not the garish red he had seen on the girls from the night before.
    â€˜Detective Filippi says you came to speak with him when he was in the apartment downstairs.’
    She looked to the left, towards the window, as if sensing the presence of a spirit below.
    â€˜I was in quite a state. I probably wasn’t making much sense, so I can’t blame him for not listening. I think he was in a hurry, and needed to leave.’
    â€˜He asked me to apologise. He was called away on another case. I want to assure you that we are very interested in whatever you can tell us about Arthur.’
    The woman sighed, and smoothed one hand inside the other. Her eyes were still fixed on the window.
    â€˜It’s such an awful thing. He was so good.’
    Good at what, he wondered, or in what way good?
    â€˜Had you known him long?’
    She turned her head slowly and let her eyes meet his. But he could tell that this was unnatural for her — she was shy, and would have preferred to look away.
    â€˜Me and Arthur, or Max, as he used to be known, we go back a bit. We both used to work in a club in Magliana, a kind of cabaret place. I served behind the bar, and Arthur was one of the dancers. It was a grim place, after hours, all-male clientele.’
    â€˜How old was he?’
    â€˜He never told me, although I asked several times. He just said something about being in his early twenties. He always boasted that he looked good for his age.’
    â€˜Did you sense he might be younger?’
    She looked down for a moment. ‘In the beginning, perhaps. Then I think I kind of forgot about it. He seemed very mature for a teenager, so I figured he was probably telling the truth.’ She paused. ‘It’s very hard to tell peoples’ ages sometimes.’
    â€˜Do you think they suspected he might be underage at the club?’
    She responded with a fragile laugh, almost a sigh: ‘I doubt very much they cared.’
    Scamarcio smiled. ‘How long were you both there?’
    â€˜I arrived a while before he did and stayed on after he left, but we kept in touch. We used to look out for each other.’ She swept her arms around her. ‘It was Arthur who arranged this apartment for me.’
    He tried to conceal his surprise. He surveyed the room once more, appreciatively, slowly. ‘It