Private Rome

Chapter 43

I tried to get hold of Justine again once Faduma had left, but there was no reply. After grabbing a gyro from one of the local Turkish takeout stands, I went to bed, exhausted.

I hardly slept and when I did drift off, I was troubled by dreams about the death of Father Carlos. I kept waking with a terrible feeling of guilt. I could and should have done more to protect him. Looking back on my career, I wondered how many more innocents might still be alive if I had just been that little bit faster, stronger or better.

I rose before dawn and went for a run along the coast, relishing the relative peace and quiet, the streets sparsely populated by other early risers, runners, people coming off their night shifts, and workers just beginning their day. I covered ten kilometers in forty minutes and returned to the apartment where I showered and dressed in the black T-shirt and jeans I’d worn briefly the previous night.

I took a cab from Ostia to police headquarters on the Via di San Vitale and arrived at 7:55 a.m.

Faduma was already waiting outside. She wore a dark green maxi summer dress.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Morning,” I replied.

It didn’t feel like a good one to me.

“Any sign of Gianna?” I asked.

Faduma shook her head just as the lawyer emerged from the large archway that at the front of police headquarters. She looked distraught.

“Mr. Morgan, I have terrible news,” she said. “According to the duty officer, Matteo Ricci tried to hang himself last night. He’s in Ospedale Fatebenefratelli under armed guard.”