He lies on the Jester's cart - 25
The door opens. A narrow, dark hallway stretches out in front of us. He walks in and switches on the light. The white walls are dotted with stains and peeling paint. The floor is covered in gray terrazzo tiles, giving me a feeling of melancholy. The door on the right leads to the corridor. It has two brown wooden panels with frosted glass in the middle that doesn’t allow you to see what’s on the other side. I run my hand over it—the waves in the glass feel soft and cold. He walks to the end, where there’s another open door. He enters, turns on the light, then disappears beyond the wall. From here, I can see a sink and a closed window. As I move forward, I glance around. There are no decorations, no photos, no paintings on the walls. It feels like the house of someone who has just moved in and still has everything in boxes. He reappears, stepping out from the doorway.
- If you’re hungry or want something to drink, this is the kitchen – He gestures behind him, showing it to me. – There’s not much in the fridge, but we’ll manage – He exits and enters the last room on the right. – Sorry it’s not the most comfortable place – he shouts as he moves around the other room.
I reach the entrance of the room he entered—it’s a bedroom. He’s facing away from me, bent over a messy desk.
- Where’s the bathroom?
- Next to the kitchen. - He points without looking at me. - It has a white folding door.
I turn and see it—three steps, and I’m touching it. I try to open it, but it jams after a few centimeters. I have to push it with both hands to fully open it, the sound of the plastic bending is unpleasant, like it’s about to fall apart. The bathroom is rectangular, narrow, and uncomfortable. The floor and walls are covered with small white tiles, blackened in the corners. To the left is a shower platform with a small showerhead sticking out of the wall. There’s no curtain or plastic shield around it. On the floor, in a corner, there’s a towel, still wet, folded against the wall.
I look at myself in the small mirror above the sink—my eyes are red, hollow, tired.
I want to splash my face with water, but I realize I’m still holding Marzio’s computer. I could put it down somewhere. I step out of the bathroom as he passes by me, entering the kitchen. I see a table covered with a yellow oilcloth. I follow him and place the MacBook on the table. I suddenly notice that my legs hurt. I sit down for a moment.
He opens the fridge and pulls out two beers.
- Want one? - He asks, shaking them with the necks held between his fingers.
I don’t have the energy to say no, and maybe I do feel like having a sip of beer.
He opens a drawer, pulls out a fork, and with a quick motion, pops open the first bottle, handing it to me. The kitchen is so small that he only needs to take half a step for the bottle to reach me. I take it and sip. He takes a sip from his own.
- This place is really a dump. I’m sorry.
- No, no, it’s fine. - I say, but what am I even saying? - No, I mean, it’s not true. It’s okay.
He laughs and takes another sip from his bottle.
- No, it’s not. This place is a mess, and I keep it even worse. It’s not the kind of place you’d bring a girl, but it’s all I’ve got.
I shrug.
- So, have you ever gotten any threats, pressure, strange phone calls, or had anyone approach you during this time?
I look at him. He waits in silence.
I sigh.
- No, no one.
- But you started looking into things. And you found something. How did you come across this Ligresti?
I bite my lips. I didn’t come here to be interrogated, but I’m afraid to say it out loud.
The room goes quiet, letting the hum of the city outside vibrate through the closed window.
- Why don’t you tell me what you know, and then I’ll tell you what I know?
He looks at me, then makes a face that ends in a challenging smile. He raises his hands and takes another sip of beer.
- Okay. I’ll tell you what I know. Then it’s your turn.
- You’ll tell me what you know and what you’ve figured out – I respond firmly.
- You’re worse than the journalists. - He smiles. - Alright, then. So, I know Marzio was a smart guy, who lost his father young and was taken in by Augusto Cardia like an adopted son. I know he was a researcher, developing new products for his company. I know Cardia died some time ago, and Marzio decided to change departments. I don’t know why he wanted to do that. I’ve talked to a lot of people, and everyone has a different idea, but I know one thing. - He leans against the windowsill, sipping his beer. - I know they all got it wrong, and no one really understood him. Everyone says Marzio was intelligent, and I believe that. I believe he knew exactly what he was doing and who he was dealing with. - He pauses for a long time. - I believe he had many enemies. Enemies who were very close. - He looks at me intensely. - Do you know anything about Cardia’s will?
Will?
I shake my head.
- You mean that thing about the Golden Share? No, nothing.
- Well, I think that’s important. Good old Cardia gave Marzio a right when he died—the same right Marzio’s father had given to Cardia while he was still alive. A heavy right. The right to veto any decision made by the top brass at Prosud.
I swallow. This doesn’t make much sense to me.
- But wasn’t he the owner?
The commissioner frowns.
- Yes, he owned forty percent. Then there’s the brother and the mother. I think that’s why we found that email about contesting the will. I believe the family had something to say about Cardia’s decision. We need to dig deeper, but that’s the direction. - He pauses for a second, then looks at me, curious. - What do you think of the mother?
- Never met her. - I think for a moment. - Marzio never talked about his family. Not to me, at least.
- What do you mean, ‘at least’?
- Nothing. - I shrug.
- Oh no, we’re not doing that. I’m telling you what I know, and you can’t hide what you know! - His tone is accusatory, and he leans toward me as he says it.
I stay silent, lower my gaze, and the conversation dies.
He picks it back up.
- I’m saying he was a smart guy, and I’m saying that I think he cared about you. Because he kept you in the dark about all the bad things happening to him and kept the people who wished him harm from looking at you. To protect you. - He pauses for a long time. - Did you know that in his office, on his desk, or anywhere else, there are no pictures or signs of you.
I stay silent. Were you protecting me Marzio?
- Or he was just doing his stuff, I have actually seen him in photos with other girls, photos that he kept secret.
I tremble as he says this. A current of electricity runs down my spine from the back of my neck and radiates into my legs, which turn to lead. I place my heavy hands on the table, my mouth hanging open. I can’t believe his words.
He watches me. My reaction surprises him. I break eye contact and retreat into myself. Maybe it’s her? Maybe she’s the one he keeps with him when I’m not around? My heart feels like it’s being torn apart. She told me to never tell anybody, keep the secret. But I can’t bear it. And what if she is another girl? What if he is bluffing? Can I take the risk. My hands reach on their own for the back pocket of my jeans, it’s like my body wants to just escape this nightmare, share the weight. My hands pull out the photo. I look at it, my eyes burning as they fill with tears. I turn to him, trying to hold back the sobs. I need to be strong.
- Is this her? Is she the one in the photos?
He looks at me, astonished. He takes half a step forward, as if he can’t believe it, then another full step toward the table. He looks at the photo in my hand, then stares at me.
- And where did you get this photo?
He’s genuinely surprised. He’s sincere.
- Is it her? - I ask as a tear rolls down my face.
He stands still, like a statue. Then he shakes his head.
- Yes
It’s her.
I exhale, inhale, and exhale again. My chest deflates, and the tears stop. All that’s left is my heavy breathing.
- Where did you get that photo?
I shift my gaze from the void to his eyes.
- I took it from Cardia’s house. It was taken at his vacation home.
- Vacation home? Where?
- His wife took me there. - I swallow the mucus running down my nose.
- Where?
- In Sorrento. We both say at the same time.
We fall silent. I put the photo of Marzio and her back in my pocket. Then, from the front pocket, I pull out a packet of tissues and wipe my face.
- Did you know Marzio went to Sorrento a few days before he died?
It shouldn't surprise me. It doesn't. Maybe my skin is getting tougher, or maybe I'm just tired. I shake my head.
- Tell me the truth, it's that girl who told you about this Ligresti, right?
- Yes, it's true, it's her. - I nod.
- She plays an important role in this story. She’s central. Do you know who she is?
- No, I don’t.
- Do you have a way to contact her?
- No, she… – I take a breath, I can't breathe – she's very scared, she says we're in great danger and that Marzio was also facing big dangers, and if he didn’t make it, now we risk that they’ll get us. I have no way of contacting her, she… she finds me, I don’t have her contacts.
He drinks his beer. He finishes it and places it on the windowsill. He moves towards the fridge to grab another one.
- You see? Step by step, we’re getting closer to the truth. You need to stay calm. And you don’t need to be afraid because I’ll make sure they don’t hurt you.
He closes the white fridge door and, with the help of a fork, opens this other bottle as well.
- If we manage to talk to this girl, we’ve hit the jackpot. Believe me.
He looks out the window. The red streetlights illuminate his face.
I’m tired.
- Go to sleep, there’s a couch in the living room.
- Yes, you told me.
- See you tomorrow.
- Goodnight.
I get up and head towards the hallway. I drag myself with exhaustion with every step. The room is tidy, at least more so than the others. The couch is made of green faux leather, I sit down, it’s fairly soft. That’s enough for me, I stretch out my legs and rest my head on the armrest. The last glance before closing my eyes is for him. As always.
Copyright © The MaDMan, 2013. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without permission.
Marzio has he under his spell forever. But I'm glad the commissioner is getting answers out of her. She's been so bottled up over all this, which is understandable. They're going to get this figured out but they're definitely in danger, too. I hope the commissioner can keep her safe. Awesome drawings as always, too. Loving this book.