The Burial Hour (Lincoln Rhyme 13)

"About that," Rhyme said as Sachs's phone hummed.

She frowned. "No caller ID."

"Answer. We know who it is."

"We do?"

"And on speaker."

She pressed the screen and said, "Hello?"

"Detective Sachs?"

"Yes."

"Yes, yes. I am Massimo Rossi."

"Pay," Rhyme said to Thom, finishing the grappa.

"And, Captain Rhyme?" Rossi asked.

"Inspector."

"I hoped I might catch you nearby."

"A cafe, across the street. Having some grappa."

A pause. "Well, I must tell you that the Composer's video has been uploaded. You were correct. Not on YouVid. It was on NowChat."

"When?" Rhyme asked.

"The time stamp was twenty minutes ago."

"Ah."

Rossi said, "Please, Captain Rhyme. I think you are not the sort of man to play games. Clearly not. I have discussed the matter with Prosecutor Spiro and we were, to say the least, impressed at your observations."

"Deductions, not observations."

"Yes, of course. Allora, we decided we might ask you, changing our ideas, if you would in fact be willing to--"

"We'll be in your offices in five minutes."

Chapter 17

At Rhyme's suggestion--insistent suggestion--the situation room was moved from upstairs to a larger conference room in the basement, near the Scientific Police laboratory.

The lab was efficiently constructed. There was a sterile area, where trace was extracted and analyzed, and a larger section for fingerprints, tread and shoe prints and other work where contamination would not be a risk. The conference room opened onto this latter part of the lab.

Rhyme, Sachs and Thom were here with Rossi and the tall, rangy Ercole Benelli.

Two others were present, uniformed officers, though in blue outfits, different from Ercole's--the light gray. They were a young patrolman, Giacomo Schiller, and his apparent partner, Daniela Canton. Both blond--she darker than he--they were serious of expression and attentive to Rossi, who spoke to them like a grandfather, kindly but one you made sure to obey. They were, Rossi explained, with the Flying Squad--which corresponded, Rhyme deduced, to the patrol officers assigned to squad cars, Remote Mobile Patrols in NYPD jargon.

Rhyme asked, "And Dante Spiro?"

"Procuratore Spiro had other matters to attend to."

So the temperamental man had reluctantly agreed to let the Americans return but wanted nothing to do with them. Fine with Rhyme. He was not quite sure about this Italian arrangement of the district attorney's active involvement in the investigation. It probably wasn't a conflict of interest--and Spiro seemed sharp enough. No, Rhyme's objection could be summed up in a dreaded cliche: too many cooks.