Giorgio Faletti: I Kill

‘The FBI, like heaven, can wait. What I need now is a long vacation, a real one, where you laugh and have fun with the right people.’ And Frank waved towards the car as Morelli suddenly opened his eyes wide and dug his hand in his pocket.

‘Hey, I almost forgot. I would have had to get every policeman in France after you to give you this.’ He pulled a light blue envelope out of his pocket. ‘And the person who gave me this letter would never have forgiven me.’

Frank looked at it for a moment without opening it. His name was written in a woman’s handwriting, delicate but not overly so. He could guess who it was from. For the moment, he put it in his pocket.

‘’Bye, Claude. Take it easy.’

‘You take it easy. Relax, see the world.’

‘We’re going to Disneyland,’ Stuart’s voice in English piped up from the car in confirmation. Morelli stepped back and raised his eyes to the sky. He pretended to look upset for the boy leaning forward between the two front seats. He replied in good English with a slight French accent.

‘Not fair. You go to Disneyland and I have to stay here and mind the shop.’ He paused for a slight concession. ‘Okay, it’s Monte Carlo. But I’m slaving away all alone.’ Frank got into the car, closed the door, and opened the window. He spoke to Helena, but loud enough for the sergeant to hear him.

‘Let’s get out of here before this clown ruins our day. I don’t know where they get their cops here. And they say the Monte Carlo police force is one of the best in the world.’

The car pulled away and Frank left Morelli with a final wave. They reached the bottom of Rue Notari and turned right. At the end of Rue Princesse Antoinette, they stopped to let a car pass. At the corner, Frank saw Barbara headed in the opposite direction. She was walking quickly and her wavy red hair was swaying with her step. As the car started moving again, Frank watched her, knowing that the girl’s presence on that street was no accident. Morelli had just said he only waited for people he knew would show up… Helena poked him on the arm. He turned to see her smiling at him.

‘Hey you, we haven’t even left yet, and you’re already looking at other women?’

Frank leaned back and put on his sunglasses with a dramatic gesture.

‘If you have to know, that woman was the real reason Morelli was standing in the street. Ha! And I thought he was my true friend waiting to say goodbye. All alone in Monte Carlo!’

‘Which confirms the theory that this world is full of cowardly, lying men.’

Frank looked at the woman sitting next to him. She was transformed, after only a few days. And the knowledge that it was his doing had transformed Frank as well. He smiled and shook his head in denial.

‘No, it confirms the theory that the world is full of cowardly liars. It’s just statistics that some of them happen to be men.’ Frank stopped Helena’s reaction by giving her directions. ‘Bear right here,’ he pointed. ‘We’ll drive along the harbour and follow the signs for Nice.’

‘Don’t try to get out of it,’ Helena retorted. ‘We’re going to continue this discussion.’

But her expression was gentle. They descended towards the harbour and drove past the crowded pier. Stuart was hanging out the window, fascinated with the colourful summer crowd of people and boats. He pointed to an enormous private yacht anchored at the pier that even had a small helicopter parked on the upper deck.

‘Mommy, look how long that boat is. There’s a helicopter on it.’

‘I already told you, Stuart,’ Helena replied without turning around. ‘Monaco is a strange place. It’s a small country but lots of important people live here.’

‘I know why. ’Cause they don’t have to pay taxes.’

Frank refrained from pointing out to him that sooner or later you always had to pay taxes, wherever you lived. Stuart wouldn’t understand and Frank didn’t feel like explaining. He didn’t want to think about anything at all. They passed the place where Arianna’s body had been found with her boyfriend. Helena said nothing and neither did Frank. He was glad to be wearing his sunglasses so she couldn’t see his eyes. They came to the curve of the Rascasse, with the Radio Monte Carlo building on their left. For an instant, Frank could see an image of the director’s booth behind the glass and the deejay on the air.

That’s enough. It’s over now. And if something else happens tomorrow, it has nothing to do with me.

They turned down the road to leave the city and the slight tension in the car faded away as soon as they passed the junction for Fontvieille and headed towards Nice. Shifting position in his seat, Frank felt something in his pocket and pulled out the envelope Morelli had given him. The flap was tucked inside. Frank opened it and pulled out a sheet of blue paper, folded in half. The note was written in the same delicate handwriting.

Hello Handsome,

Allow me to join in the congratulations for our hero. Along with all my thanks for everything you’ve done. I was just informed by the Principality authorities. They’re holding an official ceremony in memory of Inspector Nicolas Hulot in recognition of his merits, and reliable sources have told me that you’re responsible. You know how much that means to me. And I’m not referring to the economic aspect, which will guarantee me a peaceful old age, whatever that means in my case.

After certain events, the world just wants to forget as quickly as possible. Some people are left with the task of remembering so that they don’t happen again.

I’m very proud of you. You and my husband are the best men I have ever known. I loved Nicolas and I still do. I’ll love him for ever.

I wish you all the good fortune you deserve and which I know you will find.

With affection,

Céline

Frank read Céline Hulot’s note two or three times before folding it and slipping it into his pocket. As she weaved through the traffic and turned down the road for the highway, Helena turned to him.

‘Bad news?’

‘No. Just regards and best wishes from a woman who is a dear friend.’

Stuart leaned forward between the seats. His head was between Frank’s and Helena’s. ‘Does she live in Monte Carlo?’

‘Yes, Stuart. She lives here.’

‘Is she an important person?’

‘Of course. She’s the wife of a police inspector.’ Frank looked at Helena. His answer to Stuart was mostly meant for her.

Helena smiled and Stuart sat back, puzzled, and looked out at the sea that disappeared from view as they headed inland. Frank reached for his seat belt.

‘Young man,’ he said to Stuart as he buckled it, ‘from now on, buckle up until further orders. Roger?’

Frank decided that he had earned the right to be a little silly, after all that had happened. He put his arms out in front of him like the head of a caravan leading a group of pioneers west. ‘France, here we come.’

He and Helena smiled at the boy’s enthusiastic reaction. As he checked to make sure that Stuart had buckled his seat belt correctly, Frank observed the face of the woman at the wheel, concentrating on getting through the congested summer Côte d’Azur traffic. He traced her profile with his eyes; his gaze was like a pencil drawing an indelible picture of that moment in his memory.

He knew it would not be easy for them. They would have to separate their need to forget from their need to remember. But they were together, and that was an excellent start. He closed his eyes behind the screen of his dark glasses. He recorded for the future that everything he really cared about was in that car with him. He couldn’t possibly want for anything more.