at least partly with that in view. She seemed to like Zen, and he was certainly attracted to her. If he tried, they would probably end up going to bed together.
There was of course nothing whatever wrong with that, particularly for someone who hadn't been with a woman for over a year. Even the nuns who served as nurses at one of the sanatoria where he had stayed had started to look pretty good towards the end of his stay. The melancholy he could feel fermenting beneath his superficial gaiety was based on the clear and absolute realization that the affair would go no further than that. It would be a pleasant diversion, but no more. Afterwards they would go their separate ways, and the odds were that they would never meet again. And even if they did, nothing would come of it. Gemma had her own life, Zen his. And at their age, there was no force strong enough to fuse these disparate realities and bind mem together for good.
When they had finished their ice creams, Gemma led the way back up the street to a blue sports-utility vehicle which she unlocked and then manoeuvred out of a space which from inside seemed slightly smaller than the automobile itself. They threaded their way at a respectful crawl through the crowd of pedestrians taking full advantage of their unwritten right of way, then turned off down a side street and worked their way back to the villa where Zen was staying. Gemma parked and turned off the motor.
'I think I will come in for a quick coffee after all, if that’s all right'
'That would be wonderful,' Zen replied.
Maybe I'm going to get lucky, he thought His gloomy reservations of a few minutes earlier now seemed absurd. Why did he have to make everything so hard for himself? Other people just grabbed whatever they could, enjoyed themselves, and thought no more about it What was he trying to prove by doing otherwise?
He walked up to the gate and was searching for his keys when a car door opened across the street and a man in uniform got out.
'Buona sera, signora, signore’ he said in a tone of voice which Zen recognized instinctively. Sure enough, as the man came closer and caught the light of the security lamp on the exterior of the villa, his uniform turned out to be that of a junior officer in the carabinieri. Zen returned the greeting guardedly.
'Signor Pier Giorgio Butani?' the man continued.
'Yes.'
'I'm sorry to disturb you at this hour, but my superior needs to ask you some questions regarding an investigation we have in progress. I must therefore ask you to accompany me to headquarters.'
Zen's first thought was that they had come for him, and this was an elaborate charade made necessary by Gemma's presence.
'Very well,' he said. 'In that case, I take it that you have no objection to Signora Santini going home.'
The carabiniere peered at Gemma for the first time.
'Gemma Santini?' he asked.
Gemma nodded.
'That s a stroke of luck. You're on the list too, signora. Do you want to take your car and follow me? That way you can go straight home afterwards.'
'What’s all this about?' Gemma demanded tetchily.
‘I expect they'll tell us that when we get there,' Zen told her soothingly.
He turned to the carabinieri officer.
'We'll follow you.'
'Very well. If s not far. Just keep my tail lights in view.'
Gemma walked back and unlocked her vehicle, then turned back to Zen, who was still standing where he had been before, staring into space.
'What's the matter?' she said, as the carabiniere revved up his motor.
Zen shook his head and walked over to her.
'I don't know. I just had this incredibly strong sense of deja vu.'
'Get in,' Gemma said dismissively. 'Never mind your psychic experiences, let’s just deal with whatever bullshit this is.'
'It can't be anything serious or they wouldn't have let us drive there.'
'Didn't you say you worked for the Ministry of the Interior? Why don't you show them your documents and tell them to stop messing us about?'
'These are the carabinieri, cara. Different force, different ministry, no love lost. If I tried to pull rank, they'd keep us there all night. See his signal light? He's turning left.'
'Yes, I do see it. I like you calling me cara, but I don't like you telling me how to drive.'
'I'll never do so again.'
'Yes, you will.'
They followed the lead car a few kilometres south along the lungomare, finally turning off into one of the uglier developments of what had obviously been coastal marshland until very recently. Signora Pananelli's husband would have been in his element here. Tower-block apartment buildings and hotels divided the space with huge parking lots and supermarkets. They stopped in front of a relatively modest, and by the standards of the place old, two-storey concrete block sporting the carabinieri crest above the doorway.
Their escort led the way upstairs and into a room where a man in the uniform of a major looked up briefly from the papers he was studying.
'Signor Giorgio Butani and Signora Gemma Santini,' the man who had accompanied them announced. The officer at the desk nodded. 'Very good, Aldo. You may go.'
The door closed behind Aldo, but the carabinieri officer made no immediate move. Zen studied him with a professional eye.
Competent but unambitious, with a huge pool of resentment at having been passed over in favour of more motivated rivals and stuck away here as the holiday cop in a town which, like Brigadoon, only came into existence for brief spells at long intervals, and vanished off the map the rest of the time. He would be pompous, long-winded and a stickler for the rule book. The way to deal with him was to take the initiative, but without getting too pushy.
'May we sit down?' Zen asked, bringing a chair for Gemma from those stacked against the wall.
'Of course, of course,' the officer replied without looking up. 'Please excuse me, I'll be with you in a moment. I just have to finish perusing this report.'
Like hell you do, thought Zen, fetching himself a chair and sitting beside Gemma. He gave her an encouraging smile. She was glaring in a manner which suggested that she might lose her patience very rapidly, which with a man like this would be fatal.
The carabiniere stacked the papers he had been reading neatly together and looked at them both.
'I'm sorry to have to bring you here so late…' he began.
'Your colleague already apologized,' interrupted Gemma tartly. 'What do you want with us?'
The major gave her a glance evidently intended as a warning.
'It concerns the death today of one Massimo Rutelli,' he said after a significant pause.
'We know about that’ Gemma returned. 'I heard that he had a stroke. What’s that got to do with us?'
'There are various unresolved questions regarding the precise circumstances of the event which we are attempting to clarify. We have therefore compiled a list of all those clients of the bathing establishment where the body was discovered who were present on the beach today, with a view to interviewing them concerning what they may have seen or heard. Both your names appear on the said list.'
He pulled a notepad towards him.
'I propose to start with you, Signora Santini. You are resident in Lucca, I believe?' 'Yes.'
'At Via del Fosso number 73’ 'Correct.'
'You will be returning there tonight?'
It was said with just a hint of impertinent innuendo.
'Of course’ Gemma retorted.
'Then let us try and get you on your way as soon as possible, after which I will deal with your companion.'
'How do you know he's not coming with me?' demanded Gemma brazenly.
The carabinieri major gave her a look which Zen found himself quite unable to decipher. He seemed to be
