IM11 The Wings of the Sphinx (2009) Read Online Free

his stomach.
    “What do you mean, she was bitten? Where?”
    “She had three bites inside her right thigh. But Dr. Pasquano didn’t want to talk to me about it; he doesn’t know if they were human or animal bites.”
    “Let’s hope it was an animal.”
    This was all they needed. A murderer who was also a werewolf. Half man, half animal.
    “Did he say when he was going to do the autopsy?”
    “Early tomorrow morning.”
    Catarella came in breathless, a sheet of paper in hand.
    “I only foun’ one girl around twenny, an’ I prinnet up ’er pitcher. But there’s nuttin’ ’bout no buttafly inna report.”
    “Give it to Fazio.”
    Fazio took the sheet, glanced at it, and gave it back to Catarella.
    “That’s not her.”
    “How can you be so sure?” the inspector asked.
    “ ’Cause this girl’s brunette and the dead girl was blond.”
    “Couldn’t she have dyed her hair?”
    “Gimme a break, Chief.”
    Catarella slinked out, disappointed.
    “I don’t know why, but I don’t think this girl was a whore,” said Fazio.
    “Maybe because nowadays it’s very hard to say who’s a whore.”
    Fazio gave him a befuddled look.
    “Chief, a whore’s always been a woman who sells her body, not just nowadays.”
    “That’s too easy, Fazio.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Lemme give you an example. Take a twenty-year-old girl, a beautiful girl from a poor family. Somebody offers to put her in the movies, but she refuses, ’cause she’s a respectable girl, and she’s afraid she might get corrupted by that world. Then she meets some fifty-year-old businessman, pretty ugly but extremely rich, who wants to marry her. The girl accepts. She doesn’t love the man, she doesn’t find him attractive, and there’s too much difference in age between them, but she thinks that over time she could grow fond of him. They get married and, as a wife, her conduct is irreproachable. Now, according to your definition, when the girl decided to say yes to the businessman, wasn’t she selling her body for money? Of course she was. But are you ready to call her a whore?”
    “Jesus Christ, Chief! I merely ventured an opinion, and you’ve written a whole novel about it!”
    “All right, forget about it.What makes you think she didn’t practice the profession?”
    “Dunno. She wasn’t wearing any lipstick. Or makeup. She was well groomed and clean, of course, but not excessively . . . Bah. What can I say? It was just my impression. But do me a favor and don’t make another novel out of my impression.”
    “Listen, when’s Forensics going to send us the photographs?”
    “This afternoon.”
    “So I can go. I’ll see you later.”

    When he got to the trattoria, he found the rolling metal shutter half lowered. He bent down and entered. The tables were all set but completely empty. There were no smells coming from the kitchen. Enzo, the owner and waiter, was sitting and watching television.
    “How come there’s nobody here?”
    “Inspector, first of all, today’s Monday, our day off, though you forgot. And secondly, it’d be a little early anyway, since it’s not even twelve-thirty.”
    “Then I guess I’ll go.”
    “Not a chance! Sit down!”
    If it wasn’t even twelve-thirty, why was he so ravenously hungry? Then he remembered he hadn’t eaten the night before.
    Because of a long and belligerent phone call from Livia, who had got it in her head to draw up a bankrupt balance sheet of their life together, interspersed with mutual accusations and apologies, he had completely forgotten about the skillet that Adelina had set on the stove for him to reheat what she had prepared for him. Afterwards, in his agitation over the phone call he no longer even felt like sating himself with the tumazzo cheese and olives he would certainly have found in the refrigerator.
    “I got some langoustes, Inspector, that are a sight to behold.”
    “Big or small?”
    “However you like.”
    “Bring me a big one. But only boiled,