The Mediator by Erica Pensini - HTML preview

Chapter 19

“How did you feel after the revelation?”, John wants to know

“I was tormented. I read the papers every day, without finding what I feared and expected. Then one summer day, as I was paying for the usual morning paper, I saw the man in a black trench coat on the opposite side of the street, holding a newspaper under his arm. We looked at each other through the flow of the crowd and the cars, for the briefest instant, and I knew something would happen”, I said

“Did you ever wonder who the man was?”, John asks

I observe him for a moment before answering, trying to ascertain the real meaning of his question.

“That day I didn’t want the man to leave. I needed to know”, I reply

“Did you speak to him?”, John asks

“By the time I managed to cross the street he was gone”, I say

“Did you ever speak to him?”, John insists

Instead of answering the question I chose to continue along my own line of thought.

“After seeing the man I knew something was about to happen. At the end of the day I went to my flat and sought peace, but it was unattainable. At 2.30 a.m. I stepped out of my place”, I remember

“What were you looking for?”, John prods me

“I didn’t know what I was looking for, but I knew I’d find something”, I say

John observes me for a moment. Then, unexpectedly, he leans towards me and grips my wrists, both of them.

“At this specific moment the pace of your story is unbearably slow”, he says

I bear John’s grip for a stretched instant, then break loose and smile.

“Darling. Do you want to know what I found?”, I ask, my voice soft

“Yes”, John tells me

“Nick Lavigne”, I say

John bugs his eyes.

“Right, this is not in the official records. And mind you, Mr. Journalist, you’re not the one who’s going to change this”, I state

“Who is Nick Lavigne?”, John wants to know

“The night I found him he was a man in love crying against a light pole. He was gripping the pole and howling, literally howling, in a way I never heard before”, I start

“Who is Nick Lavigne?”, John repeats

“The killer”, I say