“Did she ever talk about the work she did for Luca Errichiello or Paride Silvestri?”
She shook her head.
“I didn’t know about Silvestri,” she said.
“And Errichiello?”
“She talked about him all the time: what a great man he was. I honestly didn’t know…the things you say he did.”
“Errichiello said she was his housekeeper. Does this seem right to you?”
Ravenna’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve seen her home. Does she look like a woman who knows how to clean?”
Ravenna pulled her hand back. “She’s sick, Valerio! Have a little compassion.”
Valerio nodded. “But she wasn’t always sick. Did she ever clean? Alright…I’ll ask another way. What did she wear when she would go to work for him?”
Ravenna seemed to think.
“She was always a beautiful woman. Slender. Long hair. Men liked her. She dressed nicely.” She paused, then stared intently at Valerio. “You aren’t saying she was a prostitute?”
He shook his head. “No. I don’t think that.”
Valerio realized he was reluctant to tell Ravenna what he’d learned. Telling her would change things. And he didn’t want things changed. Not yet.
He’d spent his life peering into dark places, digging through the sewers of human nature. He was never surprised to find filth—disappointed, but never surprised. But Ravenna, with her cheery disposition, seemed determined to look for the best in people. She’d worked her way out of the slums of Forcella to create a better life, yet returned regularly to minister to a sick old neighbor. He wished he could shield her from what he suspected. Better to keep your illusions and live with whatever peace you’d achieved than to know that every truth you treasured had turned to shit.
The pizzas arrived.
“Let’s set this aside,” he said. “We’ll talk about it after lunch. Buon appetito!”
They ate, and Ravenna chatted amiably about her work. Valerio listened with real interest. He wished this could just be a nice meal where they talked about themselves, or made plans for the weekend together. He would ask to take her sailing onCalypsowhen things calmed down.
—
At last, it could be delayed no longer. With the pizza sitting like a rock in his gut, he gave Ravenna a summary of what Beppe had said—and then played segments of the recording he’d made of Maria’s confession.
When it was finished, Ravenna sat in stunned silence.
“Those poor girls,” she said.
Her hand shook a little as she lifted her glass of water.
“Did you ever hear anything about this?” he asked. “Did Ines ever invite you to Errichiello’s or Silvestri’s house?”
“No! I mean, there were always disgusting old men who wanted to look at you…or do things. That’s life…that’s just what happens. But Ines would never do that.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course!” she insisted. “It must be someone else.”
“Would you come with me to ask her?”
—
Valerio smelled the cats as they approached the entrance of Ines’s apartment. Ravenna turned the key, and pushed the door. An overwhelming stink wafted out, and two cats streaked past them onto the concrete landing, racing down the stairs.
