19
Carabinieri—Absent but Revered
We had a little family argument because Lorenzo didn’t think I should go to Pompeii in my delicate condition, while Violetta and the children wanted to go in my place. I insisted that I’d be fine, that I could always go back and rest in the limousine if I got tired, and that there wouldn’t be room for three people to take one place, even mine.
Downstairs I found Carolyn breaking up an intimate conversation between Jill at the desk and Lieutenant Buglione so that she could tell him about Gracia Sindacco’s Mafia hit-man theory. The lieutenant insisted that he had interviewed all guests on Paolina’s floor and found them to be ordinary tourists, not Mafia hit men, and on our floor, he added, smiling triumphantly, everyone was a guest of the Ricci convention, either a scientist or the spouse of a scientist. When Jill suggested that the criminal might have been a Mafia hit lady, Buglione chuckled appreciatively while Carolyn’s lips pressed together in irritation. I noticed that the bruise was back on her cheek. How strange.
“Haven’t the Carabinieri returned?” I asked Lieutenant Buglione. “I called them myself because I thought you could use some help.”
He frowned at me. “Do you know why they have that red stripe up their trousers?” he asked slyly.
“So they can find their pockets,” I replied. “And I also know what a tumor does on the brain of a Carabinieri. Nothing.” Carolyn was looking shocked, so I told her to pay no attention. “The Carabinieri are national heroes. Everyone loves them. That’s why they’re called la Benemerita , the well deserving.”
“Collodi didn’t think so,” snapped Buglione. “He made fun of them in Pinocchio.”
“That was a long time ago, Lieutenant,” I responded, “when they were poor, uneducated lads. And Collodi was from Florence. The Florentines are known for thinking they’re better than anyone else. These days the Carabinieri officers are the top graduates of the military academy.”
“That’s wonderful,” said Carolyn. “But when are they coming back?”
“I see that you ladies are not satisfied with my investigation,” said Buglione resentfully, “and I, you will notice, am here every day with my men.”
“Doing what?” Carolyn muttered as he stomped off. Then she told me that Pompeii, as she remembered it, was short on shade and long on sun. She had come prepared, with comfortable shoes, a hat, sunscreen, and drinking water, and hoped that I had done the same. As if I’d never been to Pompeii. “Are you sure you’ll be up to so much walking?” she asked, looking worried on my behalf.
“If I’m not, I can just sit down on a rock. They’re everywhere. Or go back to the limousine and take a nap. Or faint so that handsome medics will come and carry me away.” I grinned at her. “When I was pregnant with Giulia, we went hiking in the Dolomites. It was lovely.” I didn’t mention that my feet hadn’t swelled so much during my first two pregnancies.
“Hiking?” Carolyn looked horrified. “How could Lorenzo do that to you?”
“He didn’t want me to get too fat,” I explained. “He should be very pleased to hear that I’ll be walking all over Pompeii. You can spend six hours or more there if you want to. And of course walking is good for bringing on labor.”
“It is?” she asked weakly. Then she squinted at me. “You’re putting me on, aren’t you?”
“Just a little,” I admitted. “But I am getting a bit tired of hauling this child around. Labor is beginning to look better and better.” Then I took pity on her and asked, “So what should we do next in our investigation?”
“Well, we need to find out where Constanza and Ruggiero were the night Paolina died,” said Carolyn, readily distracted. She got no further because Constanza and the guide she had hired shooed us into the elevator for the trip down the cliff to the road. I considered suggesting that we ask Constanza herself where she and her husband had been when the murder occurred. She was right there, our hostess for the day. However, I reconsidered that idea. Carolyn might do it.