AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Good morning, gentlemen.” Gaetano smiled. “I need to see Marshal Rosselli. Is he in?”
“Yes, I’m sure he’s awaiting you.” The officer chuckled.
Gaetano kept going and entered the marble vestibule, which was dim. Dust motes swirled, agitated by motion in a room accustomed to none. He went to the reception desk, where an officer sat doodling on a piece of paper.
“Excuse me, I’m here to see Marshal Rosselli.”
The officer didn’t look up. “And the nature of your business?”
“I’ll explain it to him,” Gaetano answered, then heard Marshal Rosselli’s laughter. He left the desk and hurried to the sound, past the arched courtyard filled with palms and ruins of the old convent of Saint Maria Maddalena. He spotted the Marshal heading down the marble hallway into his office, cigarette in hand.
“Marshal Rosselli, may I have a word?”
“Make it quick, Gaetano.” Marshal Rosselli led him into a cluttered office and took a seat behind an ornately carved desk covered with papers. On the wall behind him hung a crucifix, a portrait of the Viceroy, and a painting of Jesus Christ. A chair was opposite the desk, but the Marshal didn’t ask Gaetano to sit down, so he stood as if in court.
“Marshal, I’m sure you heard about the kidnapping at the Festival of Saint Rosalia. Have there been any developments?”
“None.” Marshal Rosselli was diminutive in his fancy uniform, with an oiled gray-and-black mustache and silvering hair under a braided cap.
“Has the family contacted you?”
“No.” Marshal Rosselli exhaled cigarette smoke, watching it swirl. On the side wall hung a map of old Palermo with its distinctive carve-out for La Cala, the harbor.
“You have no leads, truly?”
“Truly.” Marshal Rosselli leaned back in his chair. “Nor do I expect to. I don’t need to tell you how this goes, do I? These things take time. We won’t hear anything for a season, or more. The parents will stay quiet. They don’t want their child murdered. They’ll call us if they need us, but until then, we have a conspiracy of silence.”
Gaetano bit his tongue. Sometimes he suspected that the authorities conspired with the kidnappers, but he couldn’t say so without proof. “Did any of your officers notice anything suspicious that night?”
“No.”
“But there were so many on duty. I was at the festival with my family, and your men were on horseback and on foot. There had to be some on the Quattro Canti.”
“As you know, my jurisdiction is limited. The officers you saw may not have been mine.” Marshal Rosselli waved his hand, trailing a smoky snake. “They could have been from the Bourbons, the province, or the Church herself.”
“Have you heard anything from other jurisdictions about the kidnapping?” Gaetano knew there was overlap of authority in Palermo, with the ironic result that nobody had authority over anything.
“No.”
“How many of your officers were on the Quattro Canti?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can you estimate? Was it between five and ten, or ten and fifteen?”
“I don’t require my officers to stand at fixed locations like statues.”
“One would think that they have stations.”
“Only one like you, unacquainted with policing in the capital city.” Marshal Rosselli snorted, emitting twin jets of smoke. “We remain flexible to respond to whatever situations present themselves at thefestival. It’s not only the biggest celebration in Palermo, it’s the biggest in Sicily.”
Gaetano knew that, which was why he’d thought there’d be better security. “But there must be a shift schedule.”
“No.” Marshal Rosselli shook his head. “The schedule changes so much during the festival that we don’t write it down. The demand for manpower is impossibly high, and we’re always shorthanded. As you may know, there are only about five hundredcarabinierifor the entire island, which has about two million people. Did you know that?”
“No,” Gaetano answered, though it didn’t seem on point.
“So, I deploy as I see fit.”
