The Killer in My Eyes by Giorgio Faletti

groomed.
    ‘The police, you say? What foolishness. I was thinking of a future for you in New York. In my firm we handle many cases in conjunction with Italy. There could be a great future for a bilingual lawyer with your training.’
    ‘Just this once, Mother, can’t you forget about what you want for me and think about what I want for myself?’
    ‘On the basis of what you’ve just told me, I doubt you have a very clear idea of what you want.’
    ‘No, unfortunately for you, I know
exactly
what I want. It’s a question of attitude. I want a job that allows me to catch criminals and put them in prison, regardless of what I earn. Your work is the exact opposite: you help criminals to get out of prison, and make a good living at it.’
    Her mother had surprised her by using what, for her, was very explicit language. ‘You’re an asshole, Maureen.’
    The younger woman had finally allowed herself the luxury of an angelic smile. ‘Maybe a bit, on my mother’s side . . .’
    She had stood up then and left, leaving Mary Ann Levallier to tackle a scampi cocktail that probably bothered her because the colour didn’t match her blouse.
    Duilio brought the Porsche, with the top down, up from the underground floor of the garage and parked beside her. He jumped out of the car and held the door open for her.
    ‘Here you are. End of the forbidden dream.’
    ‘What forbidden dream?’
    ‘A nice run around Rome in a car like this, on a day like this, with a beautiful woman like you.’
    Maureen got in, smiling at him as she fastened her seat belt. ‘Sometimes you just have to dare, Duilio.’
    ‘At my age,
signora
? When I was young, I was always afraid women would say no. Now I’m terrified they’ll say yes.’
    Maureen was forced to laugh, although her state of mind wasn’t exactly conducive to laughter.
    ‘Have a good day, Duilio.’
    ‘You too,
signora
.’
    The Porsche was a gift from her father. She loved it, even though it was the kind of status symbol that classified her as a rich woman. Maureen was, like many self-confident people, modest by nature, and so she had never used that car much, and certainly not to go to and from the police station. If she was going to get along with her colleagues, she certainly didn’t want to intimidate them.
    She joined the traffic and drove calmly through a tangle of small streets until she got onto the Via dei Fori Imperiali. Concealing her eyes behind sunglasses, she tried to ignore the looks that other drivers threw at her and at her car whenever she drew up at the lights.
    As she drove down towards the river, her cellphone started ringing on the seat beside her. She put in the earphone and was surprised to hear Connor’s voice.
    ‘Hi. When are you coming back?’ he said.
    ‘I only just left.’
    ‘You won’t believe it, but that’s the same excuse Ulysses gave Penelope when he got back after twenty years away.’
    ‘Then we ought to synchronize watches. I haven’t even been gone twenty minutes.’
    ‘You’re lying. It’s been at least twenty-one.’
    Maureen was grateful for the attempt to cheer her up. Connor knew perfectly well where she was going, and in what state of mind, and this was his way of making her feel she was not alone.
    ‘Why don’t you take a nice walk around Rome, eyeing up the girls, and then meet me in, let’s say, an hour and a half outside my lawyer’s office?’
    ‘Promise me that after that, we’ll go bum a dinner off your father.’
    ‘Aren’t you tired of eating there yet?’
    ‘Not while it’s free.’
    Maureen gave him the address and hung up. In spite of his last remark, if there was one thing Connor didn’t care much about, it was money. Even though his albums were starting to sell well, Maureen had the feeling he didn’t even know how much money he had in the bank. When she had left the apartment, he had been on the phone, talking to Bono from U2 about a future project, his eyes shining like a little boy’s.
    She drove