Death in Tuscany (12 page)

'I need the membership lists of all the official Masonic lodges in Florence . . . and even the unofficial ones, if possible.'

Fanti looked at him, bewildered.

'Don't stand there gawking. Haven't I made myself clear?' 'You've made yourself very clear, chief . . . but. . .' 'But what?'

'Where am I supposed to find these lists?' 'Try Special Operations first. They're interested in these things.'

'And if they don't have them?'

'Have you gone gaga today? Try the internet. Go to a bookshop and buy me all the books you can find on Masonry in Florence. Do what you always do! But be discreet, please. This has to be done in absolute secrecy'

Fanti was already on his way out when he called him back.

'On second thoughts, don't go to a bookshop. If I need books, I'll buy them myself.' He was afraid that his secretary, to avoid making any mistakes, would buy every book he could find in every bookshop in Florence.

He was about to call Petra to suggest they have dinner at I Palmenti, a restaurant in Montelupo Fiorentino which they both liked, when Fanti came back looking dejected.

'What's happened?' Ferrara asked.

'Chief . . . Special Operations have the lists, but. . .'

'But what?'

'They need a request in writing, otherwise they won't let anything out of their office.'

'That seems okay, Fanti. What's the problem?'

'The request has to be signed by you personally and no one else . . . not even by a civil servant. That's what they told me.'

No chance of being discreet now, obviously.

'I see. All right, forget about it.'

'I'll try the internet, then.'

'No, don't worry' He had had another idea.

Are you sure, chief?'

'Yes, I'm sure. You can go.'

Fanti went out, looking mortified, and Ferrara felt sorry for him. But he was already searching for the personal telephone number of the deputy prosecutor in Bologna, Raffaello Petrini, who a few years earlier had investigated some very 'unofficial' Masonic activities, directly implicating the heads of various lodges, and in the process accumulating an impressive mountain of papers.

Ferrara had met him when they were both working in Reggio Calabria and they had developed a great deal of mutual respect.

Raffaello Petrini was only too happy to help, and promised to fax him all the documents he had relating to the Florentine lodges, which he had kept constantly updated.

After that call, he finally phoned Petra.

They agreed to go to I Palmenti
(Are you trying to be forgiven?
she asked. No, he lied,
I'm trying to save you having to cook tonight)
and then Petra asked, 'Have you called Massimo to apologise?'

'No, not yet

A good thing I thought of it, then. He was most upset, especially as he'd gone to a lot of trouble to book a table at Romano's in Viareggio. Still, he said the reservation wouldn't go to waste, because he'd find someone else to console himself with.'

'Knowing him, we can guess which gender that someone is likely to be, even if we don't know her name.'

'Right,' Petra said, not at all enthusiastically. Anyway, call him yourself, please.'

'Don't worry, I will.'

'Good. I'll book a table at
I Palmenti
. Is nine o'clock all right?' 'Perfect.'

Ferrara didn't get the chance to talk to his friend. First the line was engaged, then he heard the hum of the fax machine in Fanti's office and sat waiting, listening intently, as if his ears could read.

After a length of time that seemed endless, his sergeant finally appeared with about a hundred pages. And they only covered Florence!

'Here are the lists, chief!' Fanti said. He was rather more cheerful than he had been before, even though he knew he had done nothing he could take credit for.

'Thanks, you're a star.'

The document, entitled
The Lodges of Florence,
traced the history of the Freemasons in the Tuscan capital followed by a list of the various lodges and the names of all their members. Several of the names were preceded by the word 'Doctor', but it was clear that this did not always indicate a doctor of medicine, merely the person's academic qualification. Only in a few cases was the profession specified, and there were lawyers, architects, engineers . . . He was not surprised to find the name of Ludovico d'Incisa. At the same time he felt relieved not to see, at least on a first quick glance through the many pages, the name of Anna Giulietti. Nor those of Commissioner Lepri or Prosecutor Gallo.

He closed the file and put it in his briefcase. He would study it at greater leisure when he got home.

Montelupo Fiorentino, a town noted for its ceramics, is located a few miles from Florence. The Ferraras drove there in their old, indestructible Mercedes, which the Chief Superintendent had had for years and couldn't give up.

A restaurant based in a converted mill with a charming period cellar well stocked by the current owners,
I Palmenti
had become almost a regular destination. Apart from the traditional, earthy Tuscan dishes much loved by Petra, the restaurant was noted for its excellent fresh fish which to Ferrara's palate tasted unmistakably of the Tyrrhenian Sea, especially where it lapped the shores of his native Sicily.

That evening, the owner proudly recommended the
pezzogna,
a rare deep-water fish only found, in season, off the islands of Elba and Capri. Its soft but solid flesh was incomparable and the wine that came with it, an extraordinarily smooth, rich Fior d'Uva from the Amalfi coast, brought out all its flavour.

'I've never eaten anything to touch this,' Ferrara exclaimed, after the last mouthful.

'I bet Massimo doesn't get treated like this at Romano's,' Petra said, pleased to see her husband looking so relaxed. 'By the way, what did he say to you?'

'I couldn't get hold of him,' he replied, clearly embarrassed. He had had all afternoon to try again.

'Ach du lieber Gott!'
Petra exclaimed, as she often did to express surprise. 'Michele! That's not good enough!'

‘I’ll call him tomorrow,' he said, winking at her. 'Now isn't exactly the time, is it?'

But she didn't appreciate that wink, which she found a little too dismissive. She felt guilty about her friend and mortified by her husband's thoughtlessness. She loved Italy, her adopted country, but she didn't always like the Italians' devil-may-care attitude, which was so different from German rigour. In important things, she found that rigour - and admired it - in her Michele, so she was all the more disconcerted now by how negligent he had been towards his closest friend. Of course, she realised that he was going through a hard time at the moment. He seemed to her more stressed than usual and she felt sorry about that. But for her, friendship was sacred.

It was sacred for him, too, and now he sat there consumed by regret, in a silence heavy with his wife's disapproval.

The silence was broken by the ringing of his mobile phone.

'It's him!' Petra exclaimed, brightening up.

But it wasn't his private phone, it was his work phone.

'Gianni here.' 'At this hour?'

'Why, am I disturbing you? I'm sorry, but I'm working. There's this annoying fucking superintendent I know who makes me do all these absurd things
..."

'I'm working, too,' Ferrara lied, looking furtively at Petra, who, apart from anything else, couldn't stand lies.

'Then listen to me. The news isn't good.'

'I take it you didn't find anything,' Ferrara said, his heart sinking at the thought that this had been another wasted day.

'No, you don't get it at all. There are bloodstains, and lots of them, and not just bloodstains. There are other stains, too. Transparent ones, which have hardened to a crust. . . almost certainly sperm.'

'Excellent, Gianni!' Ferrara cried, unable to contain himself.

'For you, yes . . . but I'll have to start with the cans again. I can't go any further with the jeans.'

'Why not?'

'Because to continue analysing them, I'd have to get authorisation from the deputy prosecutor. Further tests would destroy the fabric and may be unrepeatable. I have to follow the law. May I ask if there's anyone actually under investigation in this case?'

It was true. In cases where an unrepeatable test needs to be carried out on a person, thing or place which is subject to modification, the Prosecutor must, at the earliest opportunity, inform the person under investigation, that person's counsel and the victim of the crime, specifying the day, the hour and the place at which the test is to be carried out and giving them the chance to appoint their own technical experts, who then have the right to be present when the task is carried out and to make their own observations and reservations.

'Not yet, Gianni,' Ferrara admitted, resigned to the idea that he would once again have to call Anna Giulietti, who had disconcerted him somewhat with her defence of the Freemasons. 'But you're right, we'll have to follow the accepted procedure.'

'So talk to the deputy prosecutor and let me know. In the meantime the material will remain here at your disposal.'