There was a twenty-five-year-old black Fiat Coupé parked in a line of ancient mid-range performance cars.
“We can’t just steal—” I began, but she cut me off.
“Not steal. Borrow,” she said. “These all belong to the Pleasure Hall. You drive.”
She walked to the car and opened the passenger door. I found the driver’s door unlocked and slid behind the wheel. The black leather interior was trimmed with chrome, and the Pininfarina signature on the dash signaled that the small sports car had borrowed its interior styling from Ferrari.
“The key is in the visor,” Luna said as she closed her door.
I lowered the driver’s shade and the ignition key dropped into my hand.
“What about thieves?”
“Thieves?” she scoffed. “We don’t worry about them here.”
I puzzled over her reply as I started the engine. Fiats were notorious for poor electrics, but this one had been well cared for and the engine growled to life on the first try. I drove out of the space, wove around the wreckage of Luna’s crashed BMW, and pulled out of the lot.
“Sorry about your car.”
“It’s not mine,” she replied. “It’s like this one, and most of the others back there… borrowed.”
“Who from? Who owns the Pleasure Hall?”
She didn’t reply.
“Where am I going?” I asked.
She shrugged. “You spoilt my day.”
“Your day spent hiding in a brothel?”
She remained impassive.
“What was a cop doing in a place like that?” I pressed her.
“I’m not allowed a personal life?”
“According to your colleagues, you called in sick. And you tried to escape. So this is about more than an unconventional personal life.”
I took a left onto Via Acquaroni and joined the traffic heading south toward the highway. We were in the heart of Tor Bella Monaca now and our surroundings were noticeably run down.
“Even the most generous mind would think you were hiding,” I remarked.
She gave a hollow laugh. “Why would I be hiding?”
“That’s exactly what I want to know,” I said. “Matteo told me to talk to you. You used to be his partner, right?”
She pursed her lips and kept her eyes fixed on the road.
“Why? What did he want you to tell me?” I wondered.
She glared at me.
“Let me out,” she said.
“I don’t think so. I think I’m going to take you in. Sit you down with Mia Esposito, the detective in charge, and see if she can figure it out.”
I sensed anger and frustration radiating from Luna, but her resolve crumbled.
