Michael Dibdin: And then you die

'There's no pulse,' Gemma commented, standing up again.

'Are you sure?'

'All registered pharmacists have to take first aid courses and refreshers. Believe me, he's dead.' She sighed loudly and turned towards the living room. 'I'll call the police.' 'No!'

Zen's tone was so peremptory that she looked at him half in startlement and half in anger. 'What do you mean?' 'We mustn't do that.'

'Are you out of your mind? This man came here and tried to kill us. Instead you killed him and I've got a corpse on my floor. Of course I must call them. You're a policeman yourself, he told me. You of all people should realize that.'

'Did he tell you that he was a policeman too?' Zen asked.

Gemma looked irritatedly confused. 'No, but what’s that got to do with it?' 'Everything.'

'And what’s that supposed to mean?' she almost shouted.

Zen placed the knife on the sideboard, put the gun in his pocket and took her arm.

'The situation's a bit more complicated than you think. Or maybe it isn't. I'm still slightly in shock. Isn't adrenalin great stuff? Come into the next room and I’ll explain. It won't take long. Then go ahead and call 113 if you want.'

Gemma shook him off.

'We can do this right here,' she said, confronting him. 'First, a few questions. Your name is Zen?' 'Yes.'

'What sort of name is that? 'Venetian.'

'And you're a policeman?' 'Yes.'

'So everything you've told me up to now was a lie.' Zen shrugged.

'I don't know about everything. But I lied about quite a bit, yes.' 'Then why should I believe anything you say now?' 'Because now I don't need to lie. And I won't, Gemma. I won't ever tell you any more lies, whatever happens.' She looked for a moment as though she wanted to believe him. 'But why now? Why not then?'

Zen hesitated for a moment. Then he recalled the phrase that one of his escorts had used when they drove him to Pisa airport after the shooting on the beach.

'I was not ordered to tell the truth. If you like, I'll explain why. But first we have to decide what to do about this.'

He gestured at Lessi's corpse.

'We call the police,' Gemma answered. 'We explain what happened. You shot him in self-defence after he'd threatened to kill us both. I'll testify to that. There won't be any problems.'

Zen shook his head.

'It's not as easy as that. Come and sit down and I'll try and explain. Afterwards, if you still want to call the police, I won't try to stop you.'

He started towards the living room.

'Not in there’ Gemma snapped. 'It you insist on boring me, come into the kitchen. We're a couple of murderers, for God's sake! There's no point in being formal’

In the bright, modern kitchen she gulped down a large glass of water, then another. Then she produced a bottle of white wine from the fridge and poured a glass for each of them. For the first time, Zen noticed what she was wearing. The same bare legs, the same sandals, but for this evening at home a very simple sleeveless dress in some soft pale-green material, tied at the left side of her waist. She wore flat gold earrings, but her hair looked less studied this time, her nails were unpainted and her make-up minimal. She looked fabulous, he thought, as if that mattered.

'I'll try and make this brief’ he told her, 'because if you're going to call the cops, you'll have to do it in the next few minutes. But we're safe here for the moment. Lessi was almost certainly operating alone. An anonymous break-in and two dead bodies was his idea, hence the wig and moustache. Even if one of the neighbours had seen him enter, the description wouldn't have been recognized. He was counting on no one knowing what had really happened, and therefore he almost certainly didn't tell anyone else about it. He may have had friends who would help him out in minor ways, like giving him the odd tip as to my whereabouts, but he couldn't count on them backing him up when a double murder was involved.'

He paused, smiling ingratiatingly and hoping that Gemma believed all this.

'It's unlikely that anyone heard the shots, but if you decide to make this official then the time of death will be established more or less accurately. So we can't dither around too long. Here's all I have to say, and I'd just ask you to hear me out before making a decision. Lessi's dead, but he was a member of an elite unit with a very strong esprit de corps. He admitted himself that he still had…'

A voice sounded out in the courtyard outside. Gemma went over to the open window.

'Ciao, Antonella!' she called down.

The other woman said something Zen didn't catch.

'No, no, I was just opening a bottle of spumante’ Gemma replied. 'I have an old friend over to dinner.'

'Bene, bene,' the other voice replied. 'Allora buon appetite' 'Altrettanto.'

Gemma turned back to Zen. 'You were saying?'

'I said that Lessi must have still had "a few friends in the business", as he put it. They'll have friends too. Lessi may have been regarded as a rotten apple, but if they find out that I killed him all that will change. The ranks will close. Believe me, they'll get even, one way or another. They may not kill me, but the prospect will be something I'll be living with for the rest of my life. You too, if we're still together.'

Gemma looked at him in a startlingly new way which he couldn't interpret at all.

'But what's the alternative?'

Her voice had changed too. Zen shrugged wearily, suddenly aware how absurd it was to even be making this appeal.

'He'd have to disappear. If we're ever going to go back to leading normal lives, we'd have to dispose of the body in such a way that it would never be found, and would be completely unidentifiable if it were. That would, of course, make you an accessory. So you're right, come to think of it. Call the police. You'd be crazy not to.'

He turned away and took a swallow of wine.

'How could we do that?' asked Gemma.

Zen tightened his grip on the glass, but didn't turn round.

'Do what?'

'Hide the body in the way you mentioned.'

He laughed lightly, as though she had posed some theoretical philosophical problem of no real concern to either of them.

'Well, I don't know,' he said, turning to face her but not looking her in the eyes. 'I suppose there must be places up in the mountains where it might not be found for a while. Some abandoned mine or old railway tunnel. But I don't know of any, and I don't expect you do either.'

'What about at sea?'

He looked at her now, but laughed again.

'That would be perfect, of course, but how are we going to manage it? We can't very well take the corpse down to Livorno in the car and dump it over the rail of the Elba ferry.'

Gemma finished her wine and set her glass down with a distinct clink

Tommaso has a boat Well it belongs to both of us, theoretically’

This time, Zen didn't laugh. 'We can hardly drag Tommaso into this’ 'We don't need to. The marina has a set of keys. They'll give them to me.'

Zen stared at her in total perplexity. Gemma opened the refrigerator.

'If s all right, you don't have to decide right away’ she said. 'Shall we have something to eat?'

Zen pointed to the dining room, where Roberto Lessi's head was just visible.

'But what about…?' he said.

Gemma looked at his vaguely pointing hand, then turned back to the fridge.

'Fuck him, he's dead’ she replied. 'I bought this fabulous red mullet specially for tonight, but I can't face cooking it now. Would some starters and a little pasta do? If s about all I'm up for, frankly’

She set a dish of antipasti di mare and a loaf of bread on the small table near the window which must have served her and her husband as their breakfast nook, then turned up the heat under a cauldron of water on the stove. Zen noted that the pasta water had been started but then turned off.