The Lizard's Bite Read Online Free PDF

Teresa’s workload in the Rome morgue never seemed to diminish. Emily had found herself immersed in academic life the moment she started working on her master’s in architecture at the school in Trastevere. Matching their free time with that of two street cops who always seemed to get the worst shifts around hadn’t proved easy. Costa had seen Emily just three times in the past six months, even though she was now living in his own farmhouse off the Appian Way. But now they were free. Two weeks’ leave beginning at the end of the day, and two police apartments in the narrow working-class backstreets of Castello, far from tourist-land, to use as a base.
    Peroni was eyeing him and Costa knew, on the instant, he was reading his thoughts. The two of them had been partners for eighteen months. More than that, they’d been friends.
    The big man looked down at his black trainers, shuffled his shoulders as a sign he was about to move, then laughed.
    “It’s a good feeling, huh?” he asked.
    Before Costa could answer, he found he was facing Peroni’s back. The big man was heading towards the station doors with that sudden burst of speed that always took people by surprise.
    “You know,” Costa said, catching up, “perhaps I could get another two tickets for La Fenice tomorrow. Teresa might like it.”
    Peroni glanced back at him, appalled. The long, modern train was drawing up at the final platform.
    “Opera?”
    Costa scanned the platform. They were there, just visible in a sea of bodies, half running in spite of their hefty shoulder bags, like a couple of schoolgirls on a trip to somewhere new. He wished to God he weren’t working just then. He wished he weren’t wearing a stupid uniform, doggedly prepared to spend one last day trudging the streets of Venice, helping lost tourists find their way back to the waterfront, glancing at his watch to see how long until the end of his shift.
    Some dumb commuter in a shiny suit bumped into him and muttered a curse. The Venetians were even worse in a crowd than the Romans. There was a steady stream coming off the busy platforms. He’d followed Peroni’s bulky form and stumbled straight into their path. The big man didn’t care who got pushed and shoved out of the way. By the time Costa fought through, Peroni had his arms around Teresa Lupo in a bear hug, was slapping wet kisses on her full, pink cheeks, ignoring the flap of her arms on his back, a gesture that didn’t really convince as a protest at all.
    Costa watched the pair of them and shook his head, wondering, as he often did these days, who exactly was the junior partner in this relationship.
    His mind was still on them when Emily broke into his line of vision, peering at him, amusement and pleasure in her smart, querulous face. Her hair was longer, a lively natural shade of gold. Her eyes shone with that brightness that seemed to look straight through him. She was now utterly unlike the serious, single-minded FBI agent he’d first met, a lifetime before.
    Emily smiled: lovely white teeth, perfect pink lips, a face that now seemed burned on his memory, unforgettable, a part of him. She wore jeans and a simple cream shirt, the V-neck displaying a new tan. Hugging the bag to her shoulder, she looked like a student embarked on her first long trip abroad.
    “I was looking for directions, Officer,” she said quietly, almost meekly, not a touch of her native American audible through the measured, easy Italian.
    “Where do you want to go?” he asked, a little awkward in the unfamiliar blue costume, wishing he had Gianni Peroni’s lack of self-awareness, and that he could forget he was a cop standing in a crowded railway station, slap in the middle of rush hour.
    Emily Deacon ran one slim index finger down the front of his jacket. “You’re the man in the uniform. You tell me.”
    Costa glanced at the photo machine by the platform, took a deep breath, wondering if anyone would notice, then led her inside and pulled the