When they’d gone some distance up the pier, Sonia swung around and faced Nikki. Her tired eyes were hard. “What the hell was that?”
“What was what?”
“You know exactly what I mean. What the hell do you think you’re doing antagonizing a witness? I thought I could trust you to deescalate.”
“She was never going to cooperate.”
“Well, she certainly won’t now! First Angelo, and now you. Does everybody in Phoenix Seven need anger management training?”
Nikki protested. “That woman is abusing her kid. Do we just stand by and let it happen?”
“What abuse? She’s healthy, well-fed. There are thousands of children in this city who have it far worse.”
“Emotional neglect?” Nikki demanded. “Psychological abuse? Don’t these matter?”
Sonia clasped her hands behind her neck and blew out, face to the sky.
“And you think that if you talk to her like that…shame her for being a bad mother—that will cure her? Or is it just possible she takes that shame and twists it, and turns it on her kid instead?”
Nikki was silent. The adrenaline was subsiding, leaving her weak and a little sick.
Sonia wiped a hand across her face. She looked defeated.
“You need to pull yourself together,” she said. “I know things have been hard. I get it. I get that you’re angry. But I can’t have you on this case if you’re going to be a liability.”
Then she turned and left, striding across Via Partenope to where her police vehicle was parked. Nikki watched her drive away.
Seven
Valerio’s phone was dead. Arriving at the station, he gave it to the techs to see if they could fix it.
Maurizio looked up from his paperwork when he entered the office.
“I’m happy to be wrong,” he said. “Seems it went better than I thought.”
Valerio stared blankly at his partner. “What?”
“Just some detective work.” Maurizio grinned. “You’re in your best shirt and shoes. You weren’t wearing these when you left the office yesterday. But your clothes are wrinkled, and your shoes are ruined, which tells me you were out in the rain last night and haven’t had a chance to go home and change. So, Maria was the real deal?”
Valerio felt a rush of irritation.
“No,” he grumbled. Then, before Maurizio could say anything else, “I don’t want to discuss it.”
—
It was a quiet morning, with a full slate of catch-up. Valerio, usually annoyed with paperwork, was relieved to settle into the monotonous tasking.
Just before lunchtime, a tech knocked on the open door and strode into the office. He was a scruffy man with an overgrown beard, glasses, khaki pants, and an ill-fitting shirt.
“I can’t believe I have to say this to you, animportantcapo,” he announced in the dramatic voice of a TV presenter. “When you take your phone swimming with you, or store it in the toilet, it’s very bad for the phone. Do you understand? It is not designed to operate in such environments.”
Maurizio laughed. Valerio pushed up from his desk.
“Did you fix it?” he asked.
“I can’t always perform miracles,” declared the man. “This time you were lucky.”
“I could kiss you,” said Valerio. “Shave that ugly beard and I’ll think about it. Right on the mouth. With tongue, if you ask nicely.”
