My next meeting was with Pontrandolfi. If she was punctual, she’d arrive in the next five minutes or so. I thought that I’d use my conversation with her to try to understand what kind of person Manuela was. Of course, that would be useful only if Manuela’s disappearance had something to do with her past. Otherwise, if her disappearance was just a random event, there would be practically no chance whatsoever that I would be able to find out anything new.
While I was thinking this, the phone rang. Someone else picked up, and a few seconds later the phone blinked red, indicating an internal call. It was Pasquale.
“It’s Counselor Schirani. He wants to speak to you.”
Schirani is a dangerous cretin, and the fact that he wanted to speak to me was not particularly good news.
Somebody once said that all people are either intelligent or stupid, and either lazy or enterprising. There are lazy idiots, usually irrelevant and innocuous; then there are the intelligent and ambitious, who can be given important tasks to perform. The greatest achievements, in all fields, are nearly always the work of those intelligent and lazy. But one thing should be kept in mind: the most dangerous category, the people who are unfailingly responsible for the most appalling disasters, the ones you have to avoid at all costs, are enterprising idiots.
Schirani belonged to the last of the four categories. In fact, if there were an official parade for that group he would be up front, waving the flag. He was the ideal representative, the paragon of the category. He wore shirts with big collars and ties with overgrown knots. He understood nothing-and when I say nothing, I mean nothing-about the law, and he was convinced that he was a distinguished jurist, one who shouldn’t be expected to waste his time with common lawyers. The few times we’d been on the same defense team-different defendants in a single trial-had been a nightmare. He gratuitously offended prosecutors and unfailingly annoyed judges. He was high-handed and abrasive with the witnesses.
In case I haven’t been clear enough, I’ll just say flat out that I couldn’t stand him, and the last thing I wanted, right then and there, was to hear his voice.
“Pasquale, could you please tell him I’m in a meeting and I’ll call him back as soon as I can?”
“That’s what I told him. He insists that it’s urgent, says he’s calling on behalf of Michele Cantalupi.”
“Fine, put him through,” I said after mouthing a silent fuck.
“Guido?”
“Riccardo.”
“Guido, what is the meaning of all this?”
“All what?”
“You order my client to come in for an interview in your office, without informing me, without so much as a word to me.”
I took another deep breath, trying to repress the impulse to tell him to go fuck himself and slam the phone down.
“I presume you’re referring to Michele Cantalupi.”
“You presume correctly. Why have you ordered him to come to your office?”
I had to admit that I’d been surprised to hear that Cantalupi was willing to come and talk to me. Evidently, after saying he’d come in, it occurred to him that that might be a big mistake, and he decided to consult his lawyer. That is, none other than the asshole braying at me over the phone line right now.
“Well, to begin with, I didn’t order him to come to my office. The mother of Manuela Ferraro, his former girlfriend-who, as you are no doubt aware, has been missing for months-asked him if he would be willing to come in and have a conversation with me. And, to make another thing perfectly clear, I only learned that Cantalupi is your client just now, from you.”
“What are you up to?”
Oh, nothing. I was thinking about replacing the old punching bag I have in the living room of my apartment. I was wondering if you might be interested in the position? It’s not bad, you just hang there all day doing nothing, then at night I get home, and I punch you, hard, for about an hour. That would be the fun part, making you swell up like a balloon.
“The girl’s family has asked me to examine the file to make sure that the Carabinieri haven’t overlooked any crucial details. I’m meeting with people who know Manuela well to see if there’s any overlooked information or if I come up with any ideas that might help us understand what happened.”
“So that you can try to screw my client?”
Third deep breath. Longer than the first two.
“Listen to me. No one is trying to screw your client. And how would I screw him, if I did want to? I’m only trying to reach out and talk to the people who were closest to Manuela, because her parents asked me to. These last interviews are their only remaining hope. Your client has nothing to fear.”
“My client won’t talk to you. I forbid him to.”
“Listen. We need-”
“If you ever contact Cantalupi again, in two minutes this law office will file a complaint with the ethics committee of the bar association. I hope that I’ve made myself clear.”
And he hung up, without giving me time to answer. There are few things in life more annoying than having an asshole hang up on you after he’s managed to threaten you, without giving you a chance to return the courtesy or at least say something offensive. For a second or two I was tempted to call him back, just so I could tell him to go fuck himself and make myself feel better. I was still thinking about it when Pasquale called to say that Signorina Pontrandolfi was here and ask if he should send her in.
I told him to send her in, and thought to myself that she’d shown up just in time to keep me from doing something stupid that I’d have regretted.