well,that was a surprise, the Chief Inspector said.
Do you think the Langley-Smythes will mack trouble?
asked Jeffreys.
I don't think so.'
Langley-Smythe's family had been told that it was better to do nothing more about the murder. Cippola would not be able to pay them any money. He didn't have any. And if the newspapers got hold of the story, everyone would know what Langley-Smythe had been doing.
The nice girl from the Consulate had brought the English detectives two plane tickets.
WE thought you'd want to go home tonight because it's Chrismtamas Eve, she said. The body will travel back later.
Before they left, Jeffreys telephone Carabiniere Bacci. About that gun, he said. I thinks you talk to the litter girt with the pink toy gun.
After tears from her mother, and strong words from the Captain., Giovanna took Carabiniere Bacci, and no one else, to the place where the gun was hidden at the back of her toy cupboard.
She watched him as he opened the gun and looked inside it. Then he looked at her. Without a word, she took the bullets out of her pocket. She answered none of the Captain’s questions.
Carabiniere Bacci was very tired, but he didn’t want to go home yut. He kept thinking about the cleaner. For one terrible half-hour he had really thought they suspected him, Bacci, of the murder. In the end, he told the Marshal and the Marshal laughed at him.
Carabiniere Bacci, you’re a very stupid young man. Yes,sir, Bacci said, I’ ve been thinking a bout it. And if I can’t think and feel like a policeman, perhaps I’ll never become a real policeman. So I’ve decided to find another job.’
‘Oh, you have, have you?’ The Marshal looked up from his packing.
‘Yes,sir.’
‘Now,listen to me Carabiniere Bacci. You’ll have to give up chasing buses, and looking for excitement,and you’ll have to keep your eyes on the details of real life. People do not go to work when their wives have just died. And a cleaner doesn’t go around without his brush .People wear coats in December, not just a thin cotton overall. And if you don’t know what to do,ask an officer with more experience than you. If you remember all this ,you’ll makea a hood policeman one day – if you don’t shoot youself by accident fist.’
‘Yes,sir,but the Captain didn’t
‘The Captain,Carabiniere Bacci, is a good man, a serious man – and it’s time he got married. Now get out. Your mother is probably expecting you. And I’ve got a train to catch.
And Carabiniere Bacci walked through Florence, thinkingvabout the Marshal. And the thought calmed him and made him feel less miserable.
Meanwhile, the Marshal was on his train for Syracuse in Sicily. Although it was crowded, he had managed to get a seat . His new friend of ten minutes was showing him photographs of his family, and Marshal was looking at them politely. Suddenly the man stopped.
‘Just look at that couple over there in the corner, he said. ‘They’ve come down from Germany. He works there. They’ve been travelling foe a very long time. They missed one of their trains and didn’t know what to do. Now they’ve no food, and they won’t take any from me. I’ve offered them some.
The man went back to his photographs, but the Marshal kept looking at the couple – two little people with grey hair. The man had a patient expression on his face, and his clothes were too small for him. His hair stood up-like Cipolla’ s . His wife probably cut it for him. And his expression was the same as Cipolla’s when the Marshal had left him…
‘Thank you, Marshal…’ the little cleaner had said. Why couldn’t the two in the corner speak to each other? Why did they just patiently accept what life offered?
‘Is something wrong? Marshal ? I haven’t said anything that…? Asked his new friend . ‘No, no, the Marshal replied, without thinking. And he took his dark glasses from his pocket. ‘It’s the sun. It makes my eyes water. And he looked politely at the next photograph.
He didn’t see the man’s surprised expression, as he looked from the Marshal’s face to the window, where the lights of Florence were disappearing into the night.