The sun had been up for less than an hour when Brigadier Maione knocked on the door of the last apartment on the top floor of the last apartment house on Via San Nicola da Tolentino.
It took almost two minutes for the door to open on Bambinella’s puffy, bleary eyes, which emerged from the dim light.
“Who on earth . . . Oh, Holy Mary, Mother of God, Brigadie’, is that you? What’s happened, who’s dead?”
Maione had no time to waste.
“Hurry up, Bambine’, let me in. And wake up, splash some water on your face and wake up, I need you clear-eyed with good reflexes.”
The femminiello stood aside to let the brigadier come in, hastily smoothing down her hair.
“Tell the truth, your wife kicked you out of the house, didn’t she? And now you don’t know where to go, and you thought of me. How romantic! But don’t worry, there’s always a place for you at my table. As for the bed, trust me, you’ll never sleep better as long as you live. I’ve got a queen-size bed, big enough for the kinds of acrobatics . . .”
Maione put his hands together, as if in prayer.
“Bambine’, I’m begging you: you see it, that I’m begging you? I’ve never begged anyone, but I’m begging you this morning: you need to shut up and listen to me. Because today there’s no time for fooling around, a very serious thing has happened and we need your help, which is the only reason I’m not going to kill you right now, which is what I feel like doing. My wife didn’t kick me out, and before I’d move in with you I’d try every doorway in every alley in the city of Naples. I’m just here to ask for your help, and I need you to listen to me.”
Bambinella was more than a little struck by Maione’s tone of voice.
“Brigadie’, now you’re really starting to worry me. Let me make a cup of ersatz coffee, we’ll sit down and talk.”
“No, no ersatz coffee. I need to ask you for information, information I need very urgently. Sit down and listen to me carefully.”
Bambinella sat down gracefully in the usual bamboo chair, carefully draping her silk nightgown. On her face was a dark five o’clock shadow, and her eyes bore the marks of faded makeup; she felt she owed the brigadier an explanation:
“Don’t look at me, please, Brigadie’. My client just left, not even half an hour ago, and I’d planned to redo my makeup after catching at least an hour’s sleep. That man is just terrible, a bricklayer from the San Lorenzo quarter, he tells his wife that he’s working nights as a security guard to make a little extra, but that’s not how it is at all, I can’t imagine how she can bring herself to believe him . . . All right, all right, I see your point, this is urgent. Tell me all about it.”
Maione stared at her, rabid with anger.
“Now listen carefully: do you remember Dr. Bruno Modo? He was there yesterday, at the funeral, if you want to call it that, of Maria Rosaria Cennamo, in Via Chiaia.”
Bambinella giggled.
“Ooooh, sweet Jesus, do you think I’d have to see him at Viper’s funeral to know Dr. Modo? Everyone in Naples knows him, he’s such a good doctor and so attentive to the needs of the poor. To say nothing of his fond, shall we say, patronage of the finest bordellos in the city. There was a girlfriend of mine who used to see him practically every day at Il Pendino . . . Eh, Brigadie’, mamma mia, what on earth are you doing with that!”
Maione had pulled out his revolver and placed it delicately at the center of a small side table.
“Well, I’m not going to die of liver disease, so I’m afraid you’re going to have to die instead, Bambine’. You see this pistol? It’s loaded. And I swear to you that the next time you start telling me the story of your life, or someone else’s life, I’m just going to shoot you and be done with it. Because among other things I can just say I came up here to arrest you and you attacked me, which in a sense would even be the truth, because if you don’t shut your trap and listen to me, first I’ll shoot you and then I’ll arrest you. Have I made myself clear?”
The femminiello stared in fear at the handgun, and nodded her head yes. Maione seemed pleased.
“Ah, at last. Now then, you saw that there was a set-to with four Fascist blackshirts, on the one hand, and the doctor and yours truly on the other. Now, we have information to the effect that just yesterday, in the late morning, the doctor was picked up at the hospital, against his will, by at least three men in an unmarked black car. I need to find out who these men were and where they took the doctor, and if I can, why.”
Maione’s questions fell into a profound, unusual silence. Bambinella pointed to the weapon on the table; then she extended two fingers with unnaturally long nails to the middle of her mouth and made the universal sign that indicated a sudden, frightened inability to speak.
Maione sighed, picked up the revolver, and put it back into its holster.
“But look, I’ll pull it right back out if you start up again. Now talk.”
Bambinella grabbed a fan decorated with an elaborate drawing of a dragon and started fluttering it in front of her face.
“Madonna, how you frightened me! You’ve taken ten years off my life, Brigadie’, you know that I’m very afraid of guns!”
Maione roared:
“You don’t have ten extra years of life to lose, Bambine’, believe me!”
“I don’t have ten . . . Ah, I see. Then let’s get to the point: you’re going to have to give me a few hours of time, Brigadie’. From what you tell me, this here is serious, you’re right when you say it’s urgent. Because if the two things are connected and the doctor has been abducted by the Fascists, inside of a day at the very most they’ll put him on a train or a ship and send him far away, like they do all their prisoners. And I’d have to say, in this case, it sounds like the doctor really was picked up by the Fascists.”
Maione nodded.
“Yeah, that’s what it looks like to me too. Well, how do you intend to proceed, Bambine’? This isn’t your normal territory, and since I’m planning to murder you myself with my own two hands, I can’t afford to let you run risks.”
“Oh, at last, a sweet, kind word: you’re worried about me, eh, Brigadie’? But you shouldn’t worry, there are plenty of Fascists in this town, and you can always find a few with some interesting vices. For instance, I know one of them that just goes wild every time that I . . . well, that’s neither here nor there right now. In any case, I already know a few of the first contacts I’m going to try, and don’t fret, I’ll be careful. You just have to give me a few hours.”
Maione stood up.
“We’ll see you here at your house around noon, then. And I’m serious about this, Bambine’: I’ve never asked you for a more important favor.”
The femminiello got to her feet, with grace and elegance.
“Never fear, Brigadie’. I’m happy to do it; the doctor is a good man and he deserves all the help in the world. But first I need to get made up, and get these filthy whiskers off my face: if I want to get us the information we need, I’ll have to look my best.”