Calandra loved summer, since it meant he could finally wear his colourful linen suits and silk shirts. Most of all, it meant he could reach into the precious box containing his tailored panama hat, made for him by someone as mad as the hatter in Alice in Wonderland (and just as magically talented) with a shop on a small street in Tegucigalpa, the capital of Honduras.

The hat fit him perfectly, but it served many other purposes. Sometimes, it was a personal fan. Calandra belonged to a group of people who believe that August is actually less hot than June or July, but that day was testing his theory. Despite the sun umbrella, the terrace and the shade, the air was absolutely still, even on the beach. He should have come in the evening rather than midday, when he might even have needed a light cashmere jumper. Eventually he took off his jacket and draped it over the chair. He hated doing that, even in summer. But this was a special case.

Thankfully, the oppressive heat had not affected his menu choices: mussels sauté and Portofino-style scampi, spaghetti with seafood, and the fried fish of the day. He’d made his way through the sauté and the scampi and was waiting for the pasta. He saw 408 the waitress bringing it over. Quite the show, both the dish and the waitress. The cook had been generous (he knew people here), and now the waitress was showing as much tanned skin as she could in her denim short shorts and a white tank top. Her legs were toned and muscular, and despite the apron bearing the name of the place, La Zia, he could glimpse two perfect breasts, unrestrained by a bra. It was hot today, after all, and she could definitely pull it off. Calandra arranged his large napkin over his monogrammed blue shirt. He had another in a bag on the boat, just in case.

The waitress brushed past the restaurant owner, who was coming out of the kitchen with a plate of trofie al pesto, complete with potatoes and green beans. When they came close, she teasingly patted his side.

Considering that Calandra was their last customer, the owner returned the favour with a light slap on her delightful behind. It would have been workplace harassment anywhere else – but in this case, you didn’t want to harass the owner, Calandra thought. Anyone who’d tried to do so before had come out of it badly.

The owner reached Calandra’s table.

‘May I?’

Calandra bowed, flourishing his panama hat. ‘Take a seat, Inspector Canessa.’

 

The two men ate in silence, with the occasional pleasantry on either side.

‘Would you like to taste some trofie, your excellency?’

‘This excellency happily obliges.’

When they’d finished, the waitress came to clear the table.

‘Was everything to your liking?’ she asked teasingly. 409

‘It was, thank you,’ Calandra replied gallantly.

She came back with the fried fish. Calandra squeezed some lemon over it.

‘Care for some?’

‘Thank you, but I’ve got enough with the trofie.’

When the coffee and limoncello arrived, Canessa accepted a half Toscano. ‘I’ve only smoked them with Repetto in the past, but I’ll make an exception.’

‘I’d consider it an honour.’

Canessa smiled. Once the puffs of smoke had cleared, Canessa looked at Calandra.

‘I wasn’t expecting a visit from you. I thought you might be annoyed at me for having involved Savelli.’

Calandra waved his hand, as if to shoo away a bug. ‘No, no, it was fine this way. Petri’s recording clearly showed that the judiciary branch is filled with people like us, capable of betrayal and terrible deeds. Not always above the law. That was enough for my contacts. I even received a bonus, though you did all the hard work.’

‘It had to be done.’

‘You know, your way of thinking has always intrigued me. So out of the box, so ethical without being moralistic. We’re headed for troubling times, and we need men like you who go beyond surface impressions and take a fresh look at reality.’

Canessa smiled. ‘Are you offering me a job?’

‘Maybe not full employment. It doesn’t work like that any more. But a contract, perhaps.’

Canessa poured him some more limoncello, then topped up his own. He hadn’t been expecting the offer. ‘I’m reaching a certain age.’ 410

‘Ah, but this is a job you can do at any age. And you seem in good shape, to judge from the past few months.’

Canessa couldn’t pretend he wasn’t intrigued. He wasn’t doing badly with the restaurant, and the money was good. Yet despite its tragic nature and the death of innocent people – his brother, Alfridi and Panattoni’s girlfriend – the adventure had reawakened in him a taste for the only job he was really cut out to do.

‘I’ll think about it. I’m sure you’re not expecting a reply in the middle of August.’

‘Of course not.’

They sat in silence. Before long, a gentle breeze picked up and Calandra asked for the bill.

‘Your excellency, please don’t insult me – it’s on the house.’

‘Given your generosity, I wonder if you’d answer two questions for this old keeper of secrets.’

‘I will if I can.’

‘The first: I’m pretty sure you gave Savelli a little nudge,’ Calandra narrowed his eyes like a cat’s. ‘I don’t believe that he was very anxious to be involved, despite the evidence. What did you do?’

Canessa stood up. ‘Well done.’ He headed into the restaurant. After a few minutes, he came back with a photo for Calandra. It showed a tall man with thinning hair, dressed in a Carabinieri uniform.

Calandra looked at the photo in surprise. ‘I know this man! What’s his name again…’

‘He was your colleague.’

‘Yes, of course! He went by Colonel Baccini. He belonged to a different branch of the Secret Service, something a little more borderline, if you catch my drift. A leftover from the 411 infamous classified cases.’ Calandra screwed up his face, as if something had come back to him. ‘Now I remember: he jumped off the roof of a loft that he’d bought with our money, along with many other things. They said his family had left him: his wife had figured everything out and was suing him for a six-figure divorce deal. Some of those close to him were extremely embarrassed by the whole ordeal. But what does he have to do with all this?’

‘I gave Savelli a document containing the story. You’ll have to hear it in person – if you’re not in a rush.’

‘Fresh air, good food, great company.’ He bowed again. ‘I’m all ears.’

 

When Canessa finished talking, Calandra was even more impressed. ‘My dear Canessa, there were rumours back then about via Gaeta, but I had no idea about any of this. The story does confirm that you are an intimidating man. Savelli got your message loud and clear. If he hadn’t brought the story to its conclusion the “good” way, someone would’ve got hurt.’

Canessa untied his apron and stood up. ‘It was something that had to be done.’

‘I agree.’

They shook hands.

‘Please consider my offer.’

‘I will. But you said you had two questions.’

‘True. The second is about your beautiful waitress. What is Italy’s most famous journalist doing waiting tables instead of spending her time in posh clubs, enjoying her success?’

Canessa looked around for Carla and detected movement behind the mosquito screen. He smiled: once a journalist, always 412 a journalist. She’d listened in on everything. She was a little like him, after all. He moved closer to Calandra and whispered.

‘She’s making amends.’

‘For what?’

‘A terrible sin. I offered her atonement if she worked here for the season. And to be honest, I had something to confess myself. Less terrible, but there we are. We’re looking for some balance. It’s a trial period for both of us.’

‘I’ve never had you down as a merciful man. At least, not after what you just told me.’

‘Your excellency, I’ve committed many sins, and just like her, I’ve had my issues with trust. We are all in need of forgiveness.’

Calandra burst out laughing and put the panama hat back on his head.

‘Amen.’