The Burial Hour (Lincoln Rhyme 13)

"Open mind."

"Yes. Open mind. The most important asset an investigator can have. So, we will not vote on patterns or no patterns at this point."

"I'll remember that, Inspector. Thank you."

Ercole glanced down at the puddle on the tile floor once more. He'd used all the paper towels. He stepped outside and strode past De Carlo, who was texting on his mobile. My God, the man is completely in vogue, from hair coiffure to polished shoes. Ercole ignored his glance and continued down the hall to the men's room to fetch more towels.

As he was returning, he noted Daniela Canton up the hall, finishing a conversation with her fellow officer, the blond, Giacomo Schiller. After he had walked away Ercole hid the paper towels behind his back and, after a hesitation, approached. "Excuse me. May I ask a question?"

"Yes, of course, Officer..."

"Call me Ercole, please."

She nodded.

He asked, "Prosecutor Spiro." A whisper. "Is he always so stern?"

"No, no, no," she said.

"Ah."

"Usually he is far less polite than he was in there."

Ercole lifted an eyebrow. "You heard him?"

"We all did."

Ercole closed his eyes momentarily. Oh, my. "And he can be worse? Is that true?"

"Oh, yes. He's formidable. A smart man, there's no doubt. But he tolerates no errors--in fact or in judgment--by others. Be careful not to anger him." She lowered her voice. "Did you see that book in his pocket? The leather one."

"Yes."

"He's never without it. People say it's a notebook in which he writes down the names of people who have crossed him or are incompetent and will damage his future."

Ercole recalled seeing the prosecutor on RAI television not long ago, smoothly fielding questions about his plans for a career in politics.

"He wrote down something just now, as he was leaving!"

She was uncomfortable. "Perhaps it was just a coincidence." Her beautiful blue eyes scanned his face. "In any event, be careful, Officer."

"I will. Thank you. You are very kind and I--"

"Ercole!" a voice shouted from up the hall.

Gasping, he turned to see Inspector Massimo Rossi storming from the situation room. It was odd, and unnerving, to see the otherwise placid man so agitated.

Had the Postal Police reported that the Composer uploaded a video?

Had someone found the body of the Libyan?

"Excuse me." He turned from Daniela.

"Ercole," she said.

He paused and looked back.

She pointed at the floor. He had dropped the paper towels.