A Long Finish - 6 by Michael Dibdin

Author:Michael Dibdin [Dibdin, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Political, Fiction
ISBN: 9780571270828
Publisher: Vintage
Published: 1998-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

When he emerged from his hotel the next morning, the sky had settled back into a grey, overcast mode which brought it down to a point where it seemed to graze the rooftops. Having stopped in a bar for an eye-opening shot of caffeine, Zen made his way along Via Maestra to the house to which Tullio Legna had led him earlier, ascended to the first floor and rang the bell.

There was no answer. He rang twice more before the door was opened by a young woman in the silk dressing-gown which the doctor had been wearing on Zen’s previous visit. He introduced himself and asked apologetically if it were possible to see Lucchese.

‘Is it about moths, medicine or music?’ the woman demanded.

‘Medicine. Your father treated me for …’

‘My father is dead and has nothing to do with it.’

She pulled back the door with a yawn which was echoed by the silk gown, the two sides gaping open to reveal the upper slope of her breasts.

‘Wait in there,’ she said, pointing to a doorway on the other side of the hall. ‘I’ll tell the prince that you’re here.’

She strode off down the corridor, her bare feet as soundless as an angel’s on the terracotta tiles.

The room in which Zen had been directed to wait appeared to be a library. Taking the only seat visible, a wooden stool positioned in front of a writing desk, he waited.

And waited. And waited. Outside, the sun broke through for a brief and jagged moment, darting in and out of the room like a fugitive memory. Not daring to smoke, Zen got up and started to look over the volumes on the shelves. Old and heavily worn by use, they all seemed to be about musical instruments. There were pictures of pianos and organs, weirdly contorted wind instruments, and stringed ones the shape of a pregnant woman.

‘My apologies for keeping you waiting, dottore.’

He turned to find Lucchese in the doorway, immaculate in a black suit and tie.

‘I have to attend a funeral this morning. One of my relatives has apparently managed to kill himself by falling into a vat of wine. Quite exceptionally inept, even by the standards of the family, but there it is. Hence the delay.’

Zen stood up.

‘Please excuse me for disturbing you so early in the morning, principe.’

Lucchese sighed loudly.

‘Oh dear, has Irena been trying to impress you? That’s one of the problems of fucking down, I’m afraid. There are, of course, compensations. Anyway, what can I do for you? Is it about your head, or is it about your head? I mean, sutures or psychoanalysis? Am I babbling? Irena, who studies music at the Academy in Turin, by the way, brought some exceptionally fine hashish with her and I’m afraid that we rather over-indulged last night – in more ways than one, in fact. Sorry, wrong thing to say to a policeman. Look, why don’t I just shut up and let you talk instead?’

Zen smiled nervously.

‘Actually, I just wondered if there was any chance of getting these stitches out.

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