to sit down and eat with the corpse of the man I've just shot lying in the next room. It seems a little sudden, that’s all.'
Gemma smiled at him over a forkful of marinated anchovies.
'It was something you said’
'What?'
'You said, 'If s something I'll be living with for the rest of my life. You too, if we're still together.''
Zen looked at her indignantly, as though she'd faulted his logic
' Well, you will!' he said. Gemma laughed. 'That isn't the point, silly.' 'Then what is?'
'Never mind. Shame about the mullet. It was gorgeous. Fresh off the boat' 'We could still cook it' 'It won't be the same when we get back.' 'Get back from what?'
'Disposing of the body, of course. We'll have to get out into deep water. That 11 take hours. We couldn't be back here until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest'
'Back from where?'
A sudden hissing behind them announced that the pasta water had boiled over. Gemma got up and busied herself with the stove. The odours of garlic and oil filled the air.
'Portunciulla. That s where Tommaso keeps his boat. Our boat It's near La Spezia. About an hour on the autostrada, depending on traffic'
'But how are we going to get there?'
'My car has a back seat that folds down to make luggage space. He'll fit in there.'
Zen sat there, nibbling squid, sipping wine and thinking all this over with a clarity he found alarming.
'Can you operate the boat?' he asked.
Gemma waved impatiently.
'No, but you must be able to. You're Venetian, you told me.' 'Of course I can!' Zen retorted proudly. 'What sort is it?' 'A motor cruiser. The latest model, all the latest gadgets. Even I could probably drive it if I had to. A child could.' Zen considered some more.
'We'll need to wrap the body. Do you have any spare sheets or anything like that?' 'Tons.'
Gemma did more things near the cooker and the sink, then returned with a broad dish which she set down on the table with the air of someone who is quietly satisfied with her work. Just like I did after killing Lessi, thought Zen. The dish contained a heap of penne rigate dressed with chopped aubergines, green olives, basil,. capers and anchovies in a light tomato sauce tangy with garlic and chilli. Zen suddenly realized that he was famished.
'So how much did he tell you?' he asked as Gemma served the pasta.
'Pretty much everything, I think. He seemed to want to tell someone, to show off how brave and clever he'd been.' 'But that was all?' 'All?'
'I mean, he just tied you up. He didn't…' Gemma laughed.
'No, no. Nothing like that. I don't think he was interested in women, to tell you the truth. You can usually tell, even if you're dealing with a maniac. No, the one he wanted was you. Apparently he'd tried five times, but you hadn't come across. So he was getting pretty frustrated and desperate.'
'Well, he made his move, and it still didn't take.'
'Thanks to me.'
'Yes, you were pretty good in there. So what did he tell you?'
'Well, there was the bomb in Sicily, obviously. Are you really a detective? You don't seem the type.'
'That s the key to my success, such as it is. What about the others, the people he mistook for me?'
'Apparently he got chatting with one of those African traders who work the beach, and offered him a small fortune in exchange for borrowing his robes and stock of trinkets for the day. The man jumped at the chance, of course, and as an illegal immigrant he would never dream of going to the police after he learned what had happened. Then our friend blacked up with boot polish and hit the beach. The make-up wasn't that convincing, he said, but then 'no one looks at those vucumpra anyway'. When he got to Franco's, there was a man lying face down asleep in the place you always used. He'd been watching you for days, apparently. So he walked over, as though trying to interest the man in a sale, shot him once through the heart with that silenced gun, and then tossed the man's towel over his back to cover up the wound and shuffled away. No one took the slightest notice, he said.' She pushed her plate back.
'I'll tell you the rest later. We'd better get moving. I'm nervous suddenly, thinking of him lying in there.' Zen ate a final forkful of the pasta, then glanced at his watch. 'What time does it get light now?' he asked. Gemma shrugged. 'About five? Five-thirty, maybe.'
'Then we have plenty of time. Let’s aim to get to the boat around four. But if you're feeling anxious, we could do some of the preliminary work. If you're still sure you want to do this, that is.'
He paused significantly. Gemma nodded. Zen made a little conciliatory gesture, as though the whole thing had been her idea in the first place.
'Fine. Let me have a cigarette, then we'll make a start.'
He smiled at her.
'Thank you for the meal. It was delicious.' 'It would have been even better with the mullet.' 'Don't worry about that. Like they say, there are plenty of good fish in the sea.' Gemma stood up and started to clear the dishes. 'Not at our age’ she said.
It was dark outside when they started. Zen closed the shutters on the dining-room windows, then bent over Lessi's corpse and started removing the man's clothes while Gemma fetched the sheets. In the event of the body itself being discovered, Zen wanted no identifying material of any kind to be turned up at the scene. He searched the garments, but found nothing except some money which he pocketed. Then he turned to the body.
Lessi's nine-millimetre pistol must have been loaded with the same fragmenting shells that he'd used to kill Massimo Rutelli, for there were no exit wounds in the skull. The only sign of injury, apart from the superficial wounds to Lessi's scalp, was a trickle of blood from the mouth and the deep scratches inflicted by the rose thorns. It was seeing his victim naked that disturbed Zen most. He was normally unsqueamish about the dead, but Lessi's nudity he found problematic. It somehow entitled him to the status of a helpless and vulnerable baby. He felt instinctively protective towards the man he had just killed, and wanted to get him covered up as soon as possible.
Gemma returned with the sheets, and then gathered up the scattered roses to clear the floor.
'I've been wanting to get rid of these for years’ she said, spreading out the two layers of pale green cotton. 'A wedding gift from one of Tommaso's aunts.'
She took Lessi's ankles, Zen his shoulders, and together they shifted the body on to the sheeting. They then folded the flap at each end up over the feet and head, and rolled the corpse to one side to make a neat bundle which Zen secured with the lengths of rope that Gemma had been tied up with. She meanwhile fetched some plastic garbage bags into which they stuffed Lessi's shoes, clothing, the wig and false moustache, along with the roses. The pistol and the Ministerial communication device Zen put in his pockets.
'Will there be anyone at the marina at this hour?'
'There's always someone there, to guard the property and the boats.'
'Call and tell them…'
He broke off.
'What if your husband is using the boat?'
'He won't be. He hardly ever uses it, and then only for trips around the bay to show off to his business friends. He gets seasick if there's the slightest movement'
'All right. Call the marina and tell them mat you'll be arriving with a friend to take the boat out in the early hours of the morning. Say we're off to Corsica and want to make an early start. Oh, and ask them to top up the fuel and water.'
Gemma was heading into the living room when he had another thought.
'Is there an anchor on the boat?'
'Of course. Two, in fact.'
He waved her away and paced the room, thinking over his provisional plan and failing to find any obvious flaw in it. But they would get only one chance.
'That s done’ Gemma said, coming back. 'Now what?'
'Now we wait a while, until everyone around here is sound asleep. When will that be?'
