Game for Five Read Online Free Page B

Move it away from here, it’s getting on my nerves.”
    â€œExcuse me, Inspector,” the young man in question intervened. He had been waiting to be questioned, and now felt as if he was the center of attention.
    Fusco raised his hand to silence him. “It’s all right, son, while your car’s being moved we can have a little chat. What time was it that you discovered the body?”
    â€œThere’s something I have to tell you first. That—”
    Fusco gave the young man a truculent look, one he had probably rehearsed for minutes on end, and stood with his hands on his hips. “Son, first you need to answer my questions. I know you have a hangover, so I’ll repeat it slowly and maybe you’ll understand.
What time was it that you discovered the body
?”
    In the meantime Pardini had gotten in the car, adjusted the seat by moving it forward, turned the key in the ignition, and started the engine. The wheels skidded in the mud, but the car didn’t move. Two other officers arrived, began pushing, and eventually managed to get the car out.
    â€œAbout four, I’m sure of that.”
    â€œWhat position was she in?”
    â€œShe was inside the trash can, with her face sticking out. Like she was when we came back.”
    â€œI know, I know. And you went straight to the bar?”
    â€œNot immediately. I waited a while until I was less dizzy, then when I felt better I left. I almost crashed my car getting there. A brand new Micra.”
    Fusco looked at the young man, the dark green Clio, the young man again, then at the puddle in front of him, and, staring down at the mud, said, “What?”
    â€œI said I waited a while then—”
    â€œStop!” Fusco yelled at the officers who had shifted the car by now, then looked up at the sky and moaned, “Shit!” He turned back angrily to the young man. “You could have told me before! A car with keys on the dashboard in the place where a body has been found, and I have it moved! Why? Because nobody tells me anything! What the hell do you have in that head of yours?”
    â€œLook, Inspector,” the young man said, clearly genuinely upset and even a little scared, “that’s what I was trying to tell you before, but you interrupted me . . . ”
    Eyes open wide, the inspector put his hands back in his pockets. He looked at everyone present as threateningly as he could, then turned and walked away muttering audibly, “It’s always your fault, Fusco. Oh, yes.”
    The young man said nothing, merely looked at Fusco’s back with an expression that was starting to betray a certain lack of trust in the authorities.
    Massimo and the doctor, who had both regained the semblance of a smile, exchanged knowing looks.
    â€œEvery time I see him in action I discover something new,” the doctor said.
    Then his face abruptly darkened again.
    Partly out of curiosity, partly in an attempt to distract him for five more minutes, Massimo asked the doctor, “Can you explain one thing to me? When you said ‘between two and five hours ago,’ did you say that to be on the safe side, even though you may have a more specific time in mind, or did you really mean such a long interval?”
    The doctor shook his head. “At the moment that’s how it is, I can’t say anymore,” he replied without looking at Massimo. “To be more certain we’ll need more tests, we’ll need to determine the progress of the auricular or rectal temperature over time, examine the stomach contents if we know the exact time of her last meal, and then we can be more precise, but it all depends on when it happened. If death occurred not long ago, we can be very precise. However”—now he looked at Massimo—“I’m pretty sure the girl died about midnight, an hour more, an hour less. But I’ll only be sure after . . . well, afterwards.”
    Fusco was