Read CB14 Blood From A Stone (2005) for Free Online Page B

speaking with the sort of clarity that comes of the fear that a foreigner might not otherwise understand, ‘Well, after we got down into that place you call a campo , we were standing sort of in the front, to the left of Fred and Martha, and I was looking down at the purses those fellows were selling. And a man, not the one Martha saw – guy about my height – he moved forward until he was standing just a little bit behind me. He was on my left, but I really didn’t pay any attention to him because, as I said, I was looking at the purses. Then I heard the noise, sort of a zip zip – I didn’t have any idea what it was – sounded like a staple gun or something, or that thing they use when they take your tyres off – and there was the music from behind us, too – and then this guy steppedback without looking where he was going, and then he was gone. I didn’t think anything of it except that I didn’t like the way he pushed back like that, right into the people behind him.
    ‘Next thing you know, I looked back and I saw that the guy who was selling the purses, he was down on the ground. And then Martha was kneeling beside him, and then Fred, and then they said he was dead.’ He looked at Brunetti, and around at the others.
    ‘I never saw anything like it in my life,’ Dr Peterson continued, with what began to sound like indignation, as though he thought Brunetti owed him an explanation. He continued: ‘Well, we waited around for a while, I’d say about a half-hour, but nothing happened. No one came. And it was awful cold and we hadn’t had our supper yet, so we came back here to the hotel.’
    A waiter passed by their table, and Dr Peterson took his attention away from Brunetti long enough to ask for another pot of coffee. The waiter nodded, noticed Brunetti sitting with them, and asked if he would like un caffè , a question which seemed to confuse the Americans as much as it relieved Brunetti. He had been in America and knew the difference between coffee and caffè .
    Peterson turned to his wife and said, speaking to Brunetti, ‘My wife was standing on the other side of me, so she didn’t see anything, did you, honey?’
    She shook her head and said in a very soft voice, ‘No, dear.’
    ‘Nothing at all, Signora?’ Brunetti asked, ignoring her husband and speaking directly to her. ‘Anything at all, no matter how insignificant?’ When she still didn’t answer, he prompted, ‘Did he smoke, say anything, was he wearing anything you noticed?’
    The woman smiled and looked at her husband as if to ask him if she had indeed noticed any of these things, but then she shook her head and lowered her eyes.
    The woman with the red hair said, ‘One of them had very hairy hands.’
    Brunetti turned to her and smiled. ‘Was this the one who was standing by Dr Crowley or the other one, the one near Dr Peterson?’
    ‘The first one,’ she said, ‘the one near Martha. I didn’t see the other man or, if I did see him, I didn’t pay any attention to him. You see, when I was standing there, my shoe was untied.’ She saw Brunetti’s response to this and explained, ‘And someone must have been standing on it, so when I heard that noise, it startled me, and I must have tried to move, but my foot was trapped and I lost my balance for a moment, and by the time I was steady on my feet again, I’d got sort of turned around. So I saw a man backing away, and I was vaguely conscious that he was near Martha. He had his hand up near his face, pulling at his scarf or his hat, and all I could see was that the back of his hand was very hairy, almost like a monkey’s. But then I heard Martha calling for Fred, and I turned back around and didn’t pay any more attention to him.’
    Her appearance had led him to expect her to be flirtatious, but Brunetti found nothing of the coquette in her. She had described the scene simply, and he had no doubt that the man she had seen had hands as hairy as a monkey’s.
    When it seemed