It was one of the reasons he had gone into the marines, as a way to get some discipline in his life. But that had been years ago; he was a grown man when he died and a priest for a long time. To envision him as a killer was impossible. Yet – and Harry didn't want to think about it, but it was true – he would have learned how in the Marine Corps. And then there was the phone call. What if that had been why he had called. What if he had done it and there was no one else he could talk to?

There was a sound and the door opened and Pio came in alone. Harry looked past him, waiting for Roscani to follow but he didn't.

'You have hotel reservations, Mr Addison?'

'Yes.'

'Where?'

'At the Hassler.'

'I will arrange to have your luggage taken there.' Reaching into his jacket, Pio took out Harry's passport and handed it to him. 'You'll need it when you check in.'

Harry stared at him. 'I can go…?'

'You must be tired – from your grief and from your flight.' Pio smiled gently. 'And from a confrontation with the police you were hardly prepared for. From our view necessary perhaps, but not very hospitable. I would like to explain what has happened and what is happening… Just the two of us, Mr Addison… A quiet place at the end of the street. Do you like Chinese?'

Harry kept staring. Good cop, bad cop. Just like in the U.S. And right now Pio was the good one, the friend on Harry's side. It was why Roscani had led the questioning. But it was clear they weren't quite done with him and this was their way of continuing it. What it meant was, bottom line, he had no choice.

'Yeah,' he said finally, 'I like Chinese.'

6

'MERRY CHRISTMAS from the Addisons' Harry could still see the card, the decorated tree in the background, the posed faces smiling from it, everyone wearing a Santa Claus hat. He had a copy of it somewhere at home, tucked in a drawer, its once bright colors slowly fading, now almost pastels. It was the last time they were all together. His mother and father would have been in their mid-thirties. He was eleven, Danny eight, and Madeline almost six. Her sixth birthday was January first, and she died two weeks later.