The Burial Hour (Lincoln Rhyme 13)

"Allora..." Ercole fell silent.

"What do you wish to say?"

The officer cleared his throat.

Rhyme broke in again. "Our supposition was that it was from the Composer. He's taking antipsychotic drugs, so we assumed he'd undergone ECS treatment."

Spiro replied, "That is logical. But it's not impossible that Maziq was being treated in Libya for a condition. And I would like to eliminate that as a possibility."

Rhyme nodded, for it was a theory that he had not considered, and it was a valid one.

"Si, Procuratore."

"And that other substance, amobarbital?" Spiro gazed at the chart.

Sachs told him it was a sedative the Composer took to ward off panic attacks.

"See if Maziq has ever taken that too."

"I will go now," Ercole said.

"Then go."

After he'd left, Rhyme said, "Prosecutor Spiro. It's rare that someone knows the raw ingredients of electroconductive gel." Rhyme had concluded that's what the ingredients were, before the prosecutor had arrived.

"Is it?" Spiro asked absently. His eyes were on the chart. "We learn many things in this curious business of ours, don't we?"

Stepping outside the situation room, Ercole Benelli nearly ran directly into Silvio De Carlo, Rossi's favorite boy.

The Stylista, the Fashionista of the Police of State.

Mamma mia. And now I will endure the comments.

Will De Carlo snidely remark on my mopping up spilled mineral water too, or just the most recent dressing-down by Spiro?

More Forestry Corps comments?

Zucchini Cop. Pig Cop...

Ercole thought for a moment about walking past the young man, who was again dressed in clothing that Ercole not only couldn't afford but wouldn't have had the taste to select, even if he'd been given the run of a Ferragamo warehouse. But then he decided, No. No running. As when he was young and boys would torment him about his gangly build and clumsiness at sports he'd learned that it was best to confront them, even if you ended up with a bloody nose or split lip.

He looked De Carlo in the eye. "Silvio."

"Ercole."

"Your cases going well?"

But the assistant inspector wasn't interested in small talk. He looked past Ercole and up and down the corridor. His rich brown eyes settled on the Forestry officer once more. He said, "You have been lucky."

"Lucky?"

"With Dante Spiro. The offenses you have committed..."

Offenses?

"...have not been so serious. He might have cut your legs out from underneath you. Stuck you like a pig."

Ah, a reference to the Forestry Corps.