The Como Falcon (Ali Falco Book 1) by Jeff Carson

Author:Jeff Carson [Carson, Jeff]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cross Atlantic Publishing
Published: 2022-06-13T16:00:00+00:00

15

Ali and Marco walked through the throngs of people in Piazza Navona, threading their way toward the center, and the next glimmering fountain.

“Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi.” Marco gestured to the ornate marble sculptures splashing water down into the shimmering topaz pool, an Egyptian obelisk jutting from the top into the darkened sky. “It was designed in the seventeenth century. It’s supposed to represent the four great rivers of the world, and the influence of the Catholic church stretching to each one. Let’s see…the Danube, Ganges, Nile, and the…” he frowned in thought.

“I think it’s the Rio de la Plata, representing the Americas,” she said.

Marco blushed. “Then you know all about the fountain.”

“It’s nice to hear it again.” She smiled. “You really are passionate about the history.”

“I don’t know. My father was. He used to spout all these facts to us. I suppose I’ve turned into him, except I can’t remember all the facts like he can.”

She smiled, keeping her eyes ahead. “Tell me about your father.”

“Well, he’s…dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you. He used to be a schoolteacher. My mother, too. She still teaches. Third graders.”

Ali smiled. “That’s great.”

“My father used to be a professor. Not of history, ironically enough. But economics.”

They walked in silence for a beat, exiting the piazza and heading down a side street, where the pedestrian traffic thinned out.

“What happened to him?”

“He was killed in a robbery. Murdered.”

She looked at him, shock dropping her mouth open. “That’s terrible.”

Marco nodded. “It was in a bar. You know…a normal bar, not far from here, just like any other. He was standing there, having a glass of wine one afternoon, when a man came in and demanded the money from the barista. From what I hear, my father said nothing. Just stood there, minding his own business, not provoking the man in the slightest. The man apparently didn’t like the way he looked, shot him in the chest as he was leaving.”

“My God,” she said, stunned into silence. “Did they…did they find the man?”

“No.”

She shook her head and said nothing for a while. They crossed a street and continued walking in the same direction down a narrow alley lined with parked scooters.

“And that’s why you went into the military to become a Carabinieri?” she asked.

He chuckled. “I would probably do more good becoming a teacher. Maybe I could turn the bad guys around before they got into a life of crime. But this life is more exciting, don’t you think?”

She said nothing, nodding.

“There is a hotel back by your father’s place,” Marco said. “After so much sitting in one day, I’m not sure why I’m so tired, but I’m exhausted.”

She nodded, still thinking of a man standing with a glass of wine, a father, a teacher, getting shot in the chest for nothing.

“But, yes,” Marco said. “I became a cop because of my father’s death, if that’s what you’re asking.”

She nodded.

“Why did you become a cop?” he asked.

“I…” she considered her answer. “I guess I always wanted to be like my father.”

“How come you’re in the Polizia and not the Carabinieri?” he asked.

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