Blume ignored the opportunity to express his condolences. “And your father?”
“He abandoned my mother before I was born. Makes me a bastard.”
“I see. Your mother’s name was?”
“What? You don’t believe I had a mother? Her name was Serena.”
“Serena Pernazzo. You took her surname,” said Blume.
“Yes. This was her house. Now it’s mine because she’s dead.”
“What did she die of?”
“Old age.”
“Is that what is says on the death certificate?”
“The death certificate says she died of heart failure.”
“Where did she die?”
“In her room.”
“In this house? Mind if I take a look?”
Pernazzo sprang out of his chair. “Of course I mind. What’s this got to do with dog fighting? Have you got a search warrant?”
“No. Do you think I need one?”
Pernazzo went over to his computer, moved the gray backpack toward the wall, and started shutting down programs, turning his back on Blume.
“If you’re not going to ask me any more questions about the dog fight, then I have no reason to speak to you.”
“You’re very nervous.”
“That’s your fault.”
“So, have you given up on illegal dog fighting?”
“Yes.”
“You’re only saying that because I used the word illegal. Have you thought about looking for help for your gambling problem?”
“I don’t have a gambling problem. I usually win.”
“So you have plenty of money?”
“Enough.”
“But not enough to afford you own house until your mother died.”
“That’s because I only play small amounts.” Pernazzo’s voice went up. “I am not a dupe. I read systems. I studied form for horses, but there are many other factors, which I couldn’t know about. Dog races have better odds. Ask anyone. Anyhow, it’s all fixed.”
“So why play if it’s fixed?”
Pernazzo looked at Blume as if he were an idiot. “Because if you learn how they’re fixing it, then you bet the same way.”
“That’s what you did?”
“For a while, but then they notice, and you have to stop. Those Neapolitans that run the greyhound races in Valle Aurelia, they don’t like people winning.”
“So you moved from greyhounds to illegal dog fights,” said Blume. “Doesn’t look to me like you’re much good at any of this.”
“That’s because you know nothing about it!” Pernazzo writhed with frustration in his chair at Blume’s stupidity. “I study tactics. I was learning Alleva’s system. It was just a question of time.”
“Ah, so you know Alleva. What about his helper and enforcer, Massoni? Ever heard of him?”
“I might know the name,” Pernazzo said to the screen.
“Angelo, turn around. It’s rude to talk to people like that. Did your mother teach you nothing?”
Pernazzo twisted around in his seat.
“It looks to me like you could do with more REM sleep,” said Blume.
“I’m fine.”
“Your eyes are moving rapidly now,” said Blume. “Did you owe Alleva money?”
“I did once,” said Pernazzo. “But I paid him.”
“Just once. Where did you pay him?”
“Not him. That guy you mentioned. I can’t remember his name.”
Blume looked at Pernazzo’s feet. They were both pointed directly toward the door. A fat yellow toenail protruded through a hole in one of his socks.
“Massoni.”
“Yes, him,” said Pernazzo “Did Massoni come here?”
“I think so. Yes.”
“When?”
“A year ago. I can’t remember.”
“Was your mother alive then?”
“Yes.”
“Wasn’t she alarmed?”
“She never even saw him. I deal with my own shit.”
“Earlier on I was talking to a man called Dandini. Do you know him?”
“No.” Pernazzo shook his head.
“He is troubled by his gambling. I think you should be, too.”
“Well I’m not.”
“OK. What’s in that bag?”
“What bag?”
“The one at your feet.”
“Oh, nothing.”
“Can I look?”
“No. No, you cannot. I’m not sure I even have to answer your questions.”
“Why can’t I look?”
Pernazzo picked up the bag, tossed it to him. Even as he caught it, Blume realized it was empty.
“OK, I won’t look if it annoys you. Angelo, I’m very thirsty. Can I trouble you for a glass of water?”
For a moment, Pernazzo seemed to freeze. He jerked out of his chair and sat down again. Then he picked up the gray backpack and carried it out of the living room.
“I’ll just take my personal belongings away,” he said. “You’re not allowed to look at anything, you know.”
“I know the rules,” said Blume.
As soon as Angelo had left, he stood up, went over to the computer desk. He saw a silver dollar, and picked it up, turned it over in his hand.
Nineteen seventy-six. He had been in-what-last year of grade school?
First year of junior high? He called tails, tossed it, got tails. Sitting next to the mouse were two empty plastic tubs of a yellow creme dessert. Three black curled half-moon fingernail tops sat on top of an open page of a programming manual.
Angelo came back into the room with a glass of water. He scanned his desk, Blume’s hands, and then his face.
“You were spying into my computer.”
“Great graphics,” said Blume. “That’s one of those online fantasy games, isn’t it? I’ve heard of them. Are you any good?”
“I am one of the best. Possibly the best in the country, certainly in Rome,” said Pernazzo.
“You ever been out of Rome?”
“Sure.”
“Ever been to the States?”
“No.”
“I see you have a silver dollar.”
