him and heads for a rail marked New Arrivals.
Ninety minutes and almost a thousand euros later, she has him fitted out with everything from socks to a Dolce and Gabbana scarf.
Valentina has the sales assistant drop his old clothes in a bin behind the check-out and Tom leaves dressed in a long-sleeved white polo jumper from Collezioni Armani, a pair of Hugo Boss jeans and a new overcoat.
The air outside is icy sharp after the heat of the shop.
He takes Valentina’s hand, his other clutching a spray of shiny bags. ‘I feel like I’ve just been in one of those before and after makeover shows.’
‘Except the before was pretty good already.’ She checks her watch. ‘Now me.’
He looks shocked.
She points across the street to a snack bar. ‘How about you grab a table in there and I’ll meet you in half an hour?’
He knows he’s got off lightly. ‘You sure?’
‘I just saw how bad you are at shopping for yourself. Watching me choose clothes would be Purgatory, no?’
He thinks about doing penance and going with her, but she’s already on the move, so he lets her go and drifts towards the bar.
Valentina shops at lightning speed.
She resists the luxury of lingering over anything, and quickly collects a black wool trouser suit, white and black blouses, faded blue jeans and a monochrome cardigan.
Choosing underwear takes more thought and care than it’s done for a very long time.
She finds herself agonising in the shoe area before grabbing practical flats rather than a pair of high slingbacks that she’s sure were calling out her name.
Tom spends the time toying with a beer and thinking of Anna, her ‘sisters’ and the eunuch priests.
From what he remembers, the Galli were attached to a secret sect devoted to a prophetess who had followers spread throughout Greece, Rome, Anatolia, Crete and beyond.
He shuts his eyes and tries to recall everything he can about this strange pre-Christian era, when rituals and prophecies were the most powerful things on earth.
He’s still crawling through the dust of societies long crumbled when he notices Valentina standing over him. ‘Planet Earth to Major Tom, can you hear me?’
He rouses himself. ‘Sorry.’ He touches the nearly empty beer glass. ‘One drink and my sharpness has gone.’
She feels guilty about not letting him unwind. ‘I’m afraid we have to go. I got a call from Federico while I was in the shops. He’s back at the incident room and we need to start a briefing.’
‘No problem.’ Tom struggles to his feet, gathers his bags and traipses after her.
They walk briskly, a difficult thing to do in Rome. Not just because the pavements are crowded, but because they’re so uneven and the slightest rain turns them into ankle-twisting water traps.
Back at the station, they stuff their shopping in Valentina’s car, and steal a kiss before entering the grand old building. A slight hesitation and a glance over his shoulder tips Tom off to the fact that she’s looked for CCTV cameras first and then decided she really doesn’t care who sees them. A small act, but nevertheless one that sends a big jolt of warmth running through him.
Maybe this relationship is going to turn out to be even more than he’d hoped for.
69
Things have gone wrong.
Horribly wrong.
The meeting hasn’t even started, but Valentina knows it from the tense, grey look on Federico’s face as he approaches her.
The briefing room is filling with people, ready for the case update. Tom sits quietly at the back, his eyes seldom leaving Valentina.
Federico beckons her to one side. He’s keen to make sure they’re not overheard as he breaks the bad news. ‘Angelis is back on the street.’
‘So quickly?’
‘After Anna supported his story about inviting him into her apartment, we had no grounds to hold him on the charge of breaking and entering. He asked again for a brief while I was out, and the duty solicitor sprang him.’
‘Caesario sanctioned this?’
He shrugs. ‘In fairness, he couldn’t stop it. Without the illegal entry charge there was no way we could justify the assault charge.’
Valentina feels her temper rise. ‘I got thrown all over the apartment and almost killed, and the law doesn’t call that assault?’
‘Self-defence. He says he thought you were an intruder.’
‘Bullshit. I banged on the door. I rang the bell and screamed out that I was Carabinieri. I made so much noise that people on the two floors above knew who I was.’
Federico shrugs again.
She slaps a hand on the wall.
He tries to placate her. ‘It could be worse.’
She glares at him. ‘And how?’
‘He could have complained. Started an action for assault.’
The anger shows on her face.
‘Ridiculous, I know, but it would still have caused problems.’
Valentina knows he’s right. Caesario would have beaten her with a complaint as surely as if it were a riot baton.
She determines not to let the setback throw her. ‘Okay, let’s get over it and get this meeting started. Anything else?’
‘I searched Angelis’s apartment before we turned him loose. The place was a pigsty. He had a stack of bible pages in the bottom of his wardrobe. Looked similar to the stuff on Anna’s bedroom wall.’
‘It doesn’t take us very far. He’s admitted knowing her, being in her apartment.’
‘It shows that maybe he shares the same fears as she does.’
‘That’s interesting. Still not enough to re-arrest him, though.’
‘I know.’
She pats his shoulder. ‘I appreciate you going the extra mile and searching his place.’
She walks to the front of the room and settles down at the main table, pleased that Federico put himself out. It’s clear he’s trying to build bridges.
She’s about to silence the pre-meeting chatter when Caesario sticks his head around the door.
‘Morassi!’
She can feel everyone’s eyes on her as she gets up and follows him outside. She guesses Angelis has made that complaint after all.
Damn!
No doubt there’s going to be a full internal inquiry, maybe even suspension while it’s carried out.
‘Sir?’
‘I apologise for interrupting your briefing, Captain, but I’m afraid it’s necessary.’
She notices him looking down at her hands, nervous that she might be recording him.
‘An official complaint has been lodged against you.’
Valentina doesn’t react. She’ll hear him out. She simply defended herself, did nothing to be ashamed of, certainly nothing that she wouldn’t do all over again if she had to.
Caesario continues, but he almost looks apologetic rather than triumphant. ‘Sylvio Valducci, the administrator
