A House in Naples by Peter Rabe

Author:Peter Rabe [Rabe, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Mystery & Detective, General, Fiction
ISBN: 9781440540042
Google: UATGNkEFGooC
Publisher: Prologue Books
Published: 2012-01-14T11:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

CHARLEY snaked his way across the big foyer of the San Giorgio and stopped near the desk. Then he tried for the desk clerk. Italians don't often make a queue so it took some doing to get to him. It took fifteen minutes.

“Signor Faldotte, please.”

“Room Two Hundred.”

The man who opened the door was round and friendly. He waved Charley into the room as if he had been waiting a long time and offered a glass of Vermouth.

“It always sounds more festive over a glass of wine,” he said. “My name is Faldotte.”

He was polite and did not ask Charley a thing.

“Be seated, signore. It will taste more festive,” said Faldotte.

Charley sat down and held the glass.

“It smells festive,” he said. Then he got up and bowed. “I am Charles Richard Delmont, or Delmonte, as you might prefer.” Then they both sat down and smiled.

“Signor Faldotte, I am not allowed to drink, as our friend Signor Bantam will testify, so without offense allow me to simply hold this glass and enjoy it as your token of welcome and as a reminder of my more carefree past.”

They talked a while longer like that and then Charley got tired of it.

“I am told you can help me find Signor Bantam.”

Faldotte was tired of it too. He said, “Who told you?”

“Nobody told me. I know. I've known Bantam for over ten years.”

“Then why come to me?”

“I've been abroad.”

They smiled at each other.

“You are a friend?”

“Tell him Delmont. Delmont the drunk.”

Faldotte smiled as if embarrassed and said, “Really, signore —”

“Just tell him.”

Faldotte went to the phone and called. Then he turned back to Charley.

“He does not know you.”

“Tell him the whorehouse in Milano. The drunken countryman, right after Bantam came to this country.”

Faldotte talked to the phone, turned back. “He remembers you but he sees no reason to meet you.”

“Tell him I'm sober and it's blackmail. I'm here for blackmail.”

It worked. The phone conversation was very short after that, and after Faldotte had hung up the receiver the door to the next room opened and Bantam came in. He had been next door all the time.

“You Delmont?” Bantam spoke English.

“The same.”

Bantam came across the room with quick steps because he was short. His face was sour and he wore a tight collar.

“What's this crap?” He stood in front of Charley, a straight stance, because he was all pleated.

“Crap. That's all. Just wanted to get you out.” Charley smiled.

Bantam and Faldotte looked at each other but neither of them knew what would come next. Bantam nodded and Faldotte left the room. Charley could hear him lean against the door outside.

Bantam had a pruny face and he kept sniffing his nose. He sat down, with precision, because he was all pleated.

“What is this?” he said.

“Do you remember me?”

“I remember Delmont. Who are you?”

“Delmont,” and Charley tossed him a registration card. He also showed him his driver's license. Bantam gave them back and went to the door. He had a low conversation with Faldotte outside, then he came back.

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