Vipers Read Free

misfortune. This terrible thing.”
    Ricciardi had the impression that the woman was playing a part. Her exaggerated gestures, the artificial voice, the way she’d crossed the center of the room, as stately as an ocean liner sailing into port: everything about her seemed theatrical, designed to impress and intimidate.
    â€œ
Buongiorno
, Signora. Your real name, if you please?”
    He took it for granted that the name she’d given Maione was a professional pseudonym, and he wanted to invite the woman to be more forthcoming. The self-proclaimed Yvonne took his point. She fluttered her eyelashes, heaved a sigh, and focused her attention on Ricciardi.
    â€œLidia Fiorino, at your service. But everyone knows me as Madame Yvonne; I doubt anyone will be able to give you any information about me if you use my maiden name.”
    Ricciardi hadn’t stopped staring at the woman.
    â€œI like to know the name of the people I met, that’s all. The legal name. Now, tell us exactly what happened.”
    Madame Yvonne shot a guick glance over her shoulder, toward the group of people by the piano. In the half-light, it was just possible to glimpse women in dressing gowns and one could hear muffled sobs.
    â€œOne of my girls . . . my dearest girl, she was like a daughter to me . . . the prettiest one, the sweetest one . . .”
    She loudly blew her nose into a handkerchief pulled from the sleeve of her dress. Ricciardi waited, Maione sighed and raised his eyes to the ceiling.
    â€œOne of my girls is . . . Virgin Mary, Mother of God, I can’t bring myself to believe it, right here, in my own home . . . where love, peace, and pleasure reign supreme . . .”
    Ricciardi shot Maione a meaningful glance, and the brigadier stepped in.
    â€œSigno’, please. We know perfectly well where we are and what goes on here. In other words, there’s no need to explain. Please, just do us a favor and of tell us, in short, what happened.”
    Yvonne dried her tears and assumed a vaguely resentful tone.
    â€œBrigadie’, you must understand what this means for me, for all of us. It’s a tragedy. Viper is dead.”
    It was the second time he’d heard that word uttered; Ricciardi decided it was time to clear things up.
    â€œHer real name, please. And let’s start from the beginning: who found her? When? And where is she now? Has anyone moved anything?”
    The woman turned her head toward the group at the far end of the room and gestured; then she turned back to Ricciardi.
    â€œViper is the name by which, throughout Naples, the best, the most beautiful of all the working girls, as we like to say, was known. The name is Rosaria, Maria Rosaria Cennamo. But she was Viper to everyone. No one’s moved her, she’s in the bedroom, the bedroom where . . . well, where she worked.”
    The other question went unanswered, until finally Ricciardi made up his mind to ask it again.
    â€œI asked: who found her?”
    Madame hesitated, then she turned to the girls and called out:
    â€œLily, come over here. Don’t pretend you don’t understand me.”
    A young woman broke away from the group, reluctantly, and came toward them. Her halting gait was quite different from Yvonne’s majestic stride, and the older woman introduced her:
    â€œThis is Lily. Bianca Palumbo, to be exact: our clients, you know, like names with an exotic flavor. She’s the one who found Viper.”
    The girl was fair-haired. Her features were soft and rounded, her face marked by horror and fright. She was clutching the edges of a flowered nightgown to her chest, which was quite prominent, disproportionately so, given her height. Cesarano let a faint whistle escape him, which earned him a furious glare from Maione.
    â€œNow then, Signorina: you’re the one who found the corpse?”
    Lily looked at Madame, almost as if she were asking permission to answer;