All He Saw Was the Girl (33 page)

    "No,"
Chip Tallenger said. "I have not seen or talked to him since Thursday
evening."

    If he
was lying, Arturo could see no evidence of it. He did not look down or look
away or even blink, his eyes calm and steady. "What time did McCabe come
to the room?"

    "Nine,
nine-fifteen. Picked up a couple things and left," Chip said.

    "I
must've seen him a few minutes later," Signor Rady said.

    
"Per
favore
," Arturo said to him. "If you please. I want to find out
what happened."

    "McCabe's
no longer a student at this university," Signor Rady said. "I'm
telling you this because he's no longer our responsibility or concern."

    "Yes,
but Signor McCabe is still my concern, so if you will indulge me."

    "Okay,"
Signor Rady said, "but I don't see—"

    Arturo
had contacted Signor Rady about meeting with Chip Tallenger, a confidential
discussion, but Rady insisted on being there, imposing his authority. This was
university property and Signor Tallenger was a student, registered and
enrolled, so Rady had to be present. They were in his office, once again, at
the small table.

    "I
can't help you," Chip Tallenger said, although his eyes seemed to be
saying he wanted to.

    "You
see the automobile, the Fiat rented by Signor McCabe?"

    "Not
till it was on TV."

    "If
you know something," Signor Rady said, flashing an angry look at Chip,
"you better tell him. By protecting McCabe you're only going to make it
worse."

    Chip
looked at Arturo. "Who's after him?"

    "Signor
Rady, give us a moment," Arturo said.

    "I
can't do that, Captain. If this matter involves one of my students, it involves
me."

    Now
he was concerned. Arturo could feel the blood pressure rising. "Why was
McCabe in Lazio?"

    "No
idea," Chip said.

    "Why
was McCabe at Signor Carsella's villa?"

    "Who's
Signor Carsella?"

    "The
man who owns Cucina da Pietro, the restaurant you walk out the gate is one
hundred meters down Via Trionfale."

    "I
didn't know his last name," Chip Tallenger said.

    "You
know his villa?"

    "That
he has one in the country somewhere in Lazio, that's all. McCabe mentioned it.
Pietro said he could use it. I've never been there. Never seen it. Why don't
you ask the man who owns it?"

    As it
happened, Signor Carsella had contacted the carabinieri after seeing a live
broadcast from the crime scene. Police were looking for an American student
named William McCabe. Two days before McCabe had asked if he could use Signor
Carsella's villa, saying he was with a woman, making the situation all the more
intriguing. Arturo had asked Chip Tallenger who this mysterious woman might be.
Chip had no idea. She was not a girl from the school or they would know. Now
McCabe was in trouble or worse and Arturo had no motive, and no evidence beyond
the rental vehicle. It was a coincidence Arturo was involved at all. He had
gone to his office that morning to finish filing a report. He was planning to
take the day off, his first in some time, months.

    Luciano
had seen him and said, "Captain, you remember the American student who was
kidnapped?"

    Of
course he remembered. His name was McCabe.

    "Someone
tried to kill him."

    And
just like that Arturo was phoning his wife to cancel plans to spend the
afternoon and evening, first shopping with her, which he did not care about
missing, and then dinner at Colline Emiliane, which he did.

    Luciano
drove and they arrived at the scene on Viale Fiume, two kilometers east of
Viterbo, at 3:15. There were four state police, and a television news crew from
Rome already there, a reporter broadcasting live. How did they hear about it so
quickly? Arturo was surprised the local police had been so careless. It was a
crime scene after all.

    Luciano
told everyone to move back away from the vehicle until they had time to complete
their investigation. Arturo studied the damaged Fiat resting at the edge of the
woods. There was blood on the airbag that had deployed, and blood on the
gray-and-blue cloth front seats, and bloody fingerprints on the passenger side
door.

    "Captain,
you believe someone could walk away from this?"

    "I
don't know that someone did." He glanced up the hill past the tree line
and saw a house. "Stay here, I'm going to check something."

    He walked
through the woods, looking for McCabe on the way, breathing hard, feeling the
climb in his fifty-year-old legs. A man came out of the house as Arturo
appeared coming out of the woods, crossing the yard, Arturo in jeans and a
black tee-shirt under a sport jacket, his carabinieri badge on a lanyard around
his neck.

    The
man's face was brown and wrinkled from the sun, and he wore a dark-blue beret.
Arturo asked if he had seen what happened earlier and the man said no, but his
wife had. The man called her name and she emerged from the house, a plump round
woman wearing dark stockings and a black dress with an apron over it.

    She
told Arturo she was outside hanging laundry, right there, she said, pointing to
a rope strung between two trees. There was a noise like an engine backfiring,
and she looked down at the road, telling him about the car spinning out of
control. Telling him about the men with guns getting out of another car, and
about the man coming up the hill through the woods.

    Arturo
showed her the photograph of McCabe taken the night he was arrested.

    The
wife nodded. "It is him."

    "Was
there a woman with him?"

    She
shook her head. "No, but there was a man with a shotgun following
him."

    Later
they had gone to investigate Signor Carsella's villa a few kilometers from the
crime scene. On the way Arturo said, "So how is everything with
Carmen?"

    "Don't
ask, Captain," Luciano said.

    "Another
argument?"

    "This
might be the end. We have not spoken for two days."

    "If
you were married you would have to work things out," Arturo said.
"This is what I have been trying to tell you."

    They
drove up the steep hill toward the villa.

    "I
don't want to work things out."

    Arturo
said, "What do you want?"

    "If
I knew that," Luciano said, "it would be a lot easier."

    Luciano
parked next to the main house. "Have a look," Arturo said, pointing
at the outbuildings.

    Arturo
got out of the car and entered the villa, walking into the kitchen. Yes, clearly
someone had been here. There were wine glasses on the counter with wine still
in them, and food in the refrigerator. There was a bloodstained towel in the
sink, evidence of a possible crime, but not much to go on.

    He
checked the cellar, well stocked with wine but nothing else. He checked the
main room and the salon and the toilet room. Went outside, stood on the
portico, gazing at the lush countryside.

    He
went back inside and up the stairs. In one room a bed was unmade, sheet and
blanket folded back. There was a backpack on the floor. Arturo opened the
compartments and found clothes and a pocketknife. In the bathroom there was a
shaving kit and a toothbrush next to the sink, signs McCabe had been there, but
no sign of McCabe. He heard Luciano come up the stairs and said, "Did you
find something?" "Nothing. Now what, Captain?" Arturo was
wondering the same thing.

    "It's
over," Angela said, relief in her voice. She was stretched out on one side
of the queen-size bed. "I can't believe it."

    They
were in a small hotel on the outskirts of Soriano. It had been two hours since
they had escaped from Pietro's villa. McCabe felt relieved too until he dumped
the money out next to her, and counted it twice, getting ˆ437,000 both times.
"Sixty-three thousand's missing."

    "You
really thought you were going to get it all back?" Angela said. "I'm
surprised they didn't spend more. Only three thousand."

    "What're
you talking about?"

    "Mazara
gave sixty thousand to my father. He was supposed to give him thirty per cent,
150,000, and thought he could get away with it. So my father will be looking
for him if he isn't already."

    She
explained how it worked, how Don Gennaro received a share of everything, all of
the criminal activity in Rome. McCabe had busted his ass to get the money and
now this. "Where's he live?"

    "What
are you going to do?"

    "I
don't know," McCabe said.

    "You
think my father is going to give you the money? Are you crazy?"

    McCabe
said, "I tell him I've got you. He wants you back, he gives me the sixty
thousand euros."

    "I
think he would prefer the money," Angela said. "You know I want you
to have it, but listen to me, this is not going to work. I am trying to help
you, give you some advice. Don't go anywhere near my father. Listen, I don't
want anything to happen to you."

    That's
how they left it. He put the money back in the bag, and ordered room service,
appetizers and a couple bottles of Peroni. They'd spend the night in Soriano,
and try to get a ride in the morning. He took out Angela's cell phone and
dialed Chip's number, heard it ring and heard Chip say hello.

    "I
need you to do me a favor," McCabe said.

    "I
don't believe it," Chip said. "Spartacus, you're a popular guy. I saw
you on TV, your yearbook picture, and the car you rented that looked like
somebody had taken a sledgehammer to it. Captain Ferrara stopped by school a
little while ago and asked me what I knew."

    It
was good to hear his voice. McCabe said, "What'd you tell him?"

    "My
roommate's lost his mind and disappeared."

    "That's
probably not too far from the truth." McCabe told him what happened, what
he'd done.

    Chip
said, "You didn't really kidnap the Mafia don's daughter? Tell me you're
making this up."

    "It
does sound strange," McCabe said, "doesn't it?" He looked out
the window, saw a half moon lighting up the sky over Orsini Castle.

    "That's
an understatement," Chip said. "I don't want to rain on your parade,
but maybe she's playing along, that ever occur to you?"

    "No,
Dr Phil," McCabe said.

    "That's
your ego talking," Chip said.

    "What
do you know about it?"

    "I've
watched a lot of TV, seen a lot of movies. Girls like that are used to getting
what they want. They're used to the good life. What do you have to offer?"

    "I'll
ask her."

    "But
I think you've got a bigger problem," Chip said. "These guys you've
gone up against are bad. You read about them in the paper, remember? They're
not just going to give up. They're not going to go away. I hope you know
that."

    Yeah,
he knew it.

    "Can
the Mafia princess talk to her father on your behalf, put in a good word for
you?"

    McCabe
said, "From what she tells me they don't get along too well."

    "I'd
give it a try," Chip said. "That, or call Captain Ferrara. The way I
see it those are your options."

    "Or
I could take the money and leave the country," McCabe said.

    "How're
you going to get it through customs and airport security?"

    He
had a good point.

    Chip
said, "Or I guess you can always shoot your way out."

    "That's
a possibility," McCabe said. "We'll talk about it when you get
here."