EVEN THOUGH IT WAS Saturday, the electric company supplied the records of the gym’s energy consumption by the end of the morning. Between seven and eight there was no noticeable increase in electricity. When the last members left at lunchtime on Sunday, the air-conditioning had been turned off, and it hadn’t been turned back on the entire afternoon.
Jan Deniak was brought into the police station for questioning, and his lawyer advised him to tell the truth.
“I must have confused the days,” Jan said. “Manfredi probably came at that time the day after.”
“But his personal schedule is filled in between seven and eight on Sunday,” countered Teodori, still hoping to find another explanation.
“I don’t fill that in. The client does it.”
There was still one question that remained to be asked, but neither Teodori nor the prosecutor wanted to address it. So I did.
“So, you were confused about the days, Mr. Deniak. Did anyone contribute to your confusion?”
He gave me a hateful look. I stared at him with half a smile and a finger in my mouth. I wanted to give him a good reminder of the photo with the surgeon before replying.
Jan capitulated. “Two or three days after, Manfredi reminded me that during the training we did together on Sunday afternoon I’d promised to let him try the new machine for the dorsal muscles. I told him that it hadn’t been Sunday but Monday, but he insisted it had been Sunday. In the end, he convinced me I had been mistaken.”
The rest of the afternoon was long and extremely busy. Teodori and the public prosecutor spoke on the telephone to the chief of police, who called them to a meeting in his office. Teodori ordered me to go home, and I had the feeling he wanted to take the credit for it all, but I didn’t give a damn. I was preoccupied with the thought of having a threesome with Vanessa and Cristiana.
Teodori kept me informed by phone. The ministry of justice and the rapid response team must have regretted getting both of us involved. Since Teodori’s personal issue had been resolved, he was a different man. The order for Manfredi dei Banchi di Aglieno’s arrest was signed just as the fiery red sun was slipping out of sight.
Teodori called me back shortly after Manfredi arrived at the police station.
“He’s not giving an inch, Balistreri, insisting he was at the gym and they didn’t turn the air-conditioning on.”
“Bullshit. He did it. We all know it—me, you, the chief of police, and the minister. Even that prick of a father of his, the king’s best friend. Now he’ll have something else to occupy his thoughts beyond bringing the cowardly royals back to Italy.”
I was over the moon, but feeling wicked. I only wanted to slam that little monster in the cells and get my friendship with Angelo Dioguardi back on the rails. I wasn’t thinking of Elisa Sordi, or her parents. Only of myself . . .
“The count’s here at the rapid response team office. He brought his wife and the best criminal lawyers in Italy.”
“Are you concerned, Superintendent Teodori?”
He laughed under his breath. Then his voice softened.
“The charges against Claudia have been dropped. And Manfredi is going to jail this evening, mark my words.”
I wasn’t invited to watch, nor was I invited to Manfredi’s questioning. I couldn’t have cared less. It was Saturday night. The case was over, and I was satisfied. There was nothing else I could do. I couldn’t give the girl back to her parents, and I couldn’t give life back to her.
What’s done is done.
I wanted a good dinner, whiskey, and cigarettes in the company of Vanessa and Cristiana. They were made for each other—a sadist and a masochist, respectively. There was no reason to argue over me, there was enough of me to go around.