Chapter 11
In the other room
(Tancredi)
Somewhere I’ve heard there’s one born every minute. If so, I'm sure the mother of all idiots would be proud of her eight little children in uniform who’ve turned up to fetch Ferrari and myself. Having found the doctor dangling in his house, we didn’t really have any alternative but to phone the police. Which is why Ferrari and I were manhandled into the nearest rooms and questioned separately about the evening’s events. And that’s why three inspector Callaghan surrogates segregated me in a badly lit room with only a desk lamp and have been asking me the same questions for about three hours non-stop.
‘Are we done?’, I ask with just a touch of impatience in my voice. The leader of the three little piglets looks at me sideways, suspiciously.
‘Why
