Long Lunch by Simon Cann

Author:Simon Cann [Cann, Simon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION / Thrillers / FIC031010 - Crime, FIC022040 FICTION / Mystery & Detective / Women Sleuths
ISBN: 9781910398111
Publisher: Coombe Hill Publishing
Published: 2015-09-29T04:00:00+00:00

seventeen

Carlotta Lombardi did not disappoint me.

Maybe she had received the sunlight of attention and so hadn’t wilted.

She recognized me as I walked in and smiled broadly, remaining seated behind her desk, which was raised so that the goddess could survey the rest of her dominion—the reception area of the office where Ryan worked. “Ciao,” said the goddess, perfect in every way. “You’re Ryan’s friend.”

“Montbretia,” I said. “But I’d like to see Elisabetta.”

Something drew my eye as she reached for the phone to her right. I was powerless against the allure of the goddess, and maybe it was this allure that drew the constant adoration that nourished her. Or maybe she was truly beautiful—on the outside at least. I had yet to discover whether she was more than physically striking. But for the moment, she certainly had the kind of figure with the right curves that Lorenzo Mariani would approve of.

She hung up. “Elisabetta will be right out.”

I felt sorry for Elisabetta. I liked her—she had been friendly, she had been helpful, she had been concerned about Ryan. She was intelligent and seemed to have an understated but quite biting sense of humor. She had her own style, but when you put her next to Carlotta Lombardi, all you could see was a shapeless lump.

“Thanks, Carlotta,” I said as Elisabetta arrived. I hustled my host away before she could be directly compared to the goddess. “I want to keep you up to date on Ryan.”

“Okay,” said Elisabetta leading me across the edge of the open-plan office toward the three white plaster-faced walls where the art department was confined.

“Hi, Tommaso,” I said to the second member of the art department. He spun in his chair—still the weak beard and again the weaker smile.

He mumbled something.

“How are you today? Are you working on anything interesting?”

His face brightened, and I’m sure that the beard made something resembling a smile as Elisabetta and I took our seats.

“I thought it might be useful to tell you what I’ve found about Ryan,” I began. Tommaso’s face soured, and he turned back to his work.

“Mmm,” said Elisabetta.

There was a change in the light—a figure was standing where the fourth wall would be, acting like a fourth wall. I heard the sound—like the sound someone makes when they want to shoo a cat—before I looked up.

When I looked, I saw Vittorio de Santis. He was wearing buff chinos with a blue open-necked shirt. Similar to yesterday, but probably slightly different.

Elisabetta was standing, and without speaking she pushed past me. I went to follow Elisabetta but felt a hand on my shoulder. Not heavy, not invasive, more an emotional instruction than a physical restraint.

“Have you finished my work yet?” said de Santis to Tommaso.

From observing the back of his head, I could tell that Tommaso was flinching. He raised a hand to point at his screen. De Santis leaned to look, releasing the hand from my shoulder,

“That’s shit,” he said. “Leave us.” He jerked his thumb to indicate movement to anywhere that wasn’t here.

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