The Fifth Gospel(150)
“Correct.”
“Please tell us what you saw.”
“While I was on my shift, I got a phone call from Father Alex Andreou, brother of the accused. He asked me to open the gates for him.”
The old judge leans forward. Guido’s delivery has none of the usual roughness or swagger. He doesn’t even point a finger when he mentions my name.
“I drove him down in my truck,” Guido continues. “We got almost to—”
The judge thumps his hand on the bench. “Stop! You’re saying you opened the gates because a friend asked you to?”
Guido shrinks. “Monsignor, it was the wrong thing to do. I know that now. I apologize.”
The presiding judge growls, “And where exactly did you chauffeur your friend, the accused’s brother?”
“There’s only one main road down from the gates. We headed that way. Then Father Alex got out when he saw his brother.”
Mignatto lifts a hand.
The younger judge anticipates the objection. “Signor Canali, did you see the accused? Do you know that his brother saw him?”
Guido sips some water. He jiggles his wrist to shift the weight of his watch. “I know where Nogara’s body was found. It’s right near where Father Alex got off my truck. So.”
The presiding judge lifts his hands in the air. “About the chronology: the defendant’s brother contacted you at what time?”
“About fifteen minutes before he showed up at the gate. I checked my phone. Six forty-two.”
“And where was he calling from?”
“A parking lot at the bottom of the cliff, he said.”
The judge writes something down. “How long is the drive from here to Castel Gandolfo?”
“Seventeen miles. Three-quarters of an hour.”
“You’re sure?”
“I drive it every Sunday to visit my mother.”
The judge writes another note. “But it rained on the night Doctor Nogara was killed?”
“As if sent by God.”
“So the drive would’ve taken longer?”
Guido shrugs. “A little weather gets people off the roads. Less traffic. It depends.”
I begin to see where the judge is going. He realizes Guido saw nothing at Castel Gandolfo, but he’s calculating when Simon called me. Re-creating the timeline of Ugo’s death. I notice that Mignatto looks concerned.
The presiding judge nods. “Thank you, signore.”
He seems poised to release Guido, but Mignatto makes a signal to him, and the judge motions him forward. Everyone in the courtroom watches as Mignatto slips a sheet of paper to the presiding judge, who reads it silently and then nods.
“One last thing,” he says.
For the first time, Guido glances at me. His eyes are full of hatred. I realize he’s terrified. He just wants to go home.
“Sure,” he says.
“Why did you open the gates for the accused’s brother?”
I sense what Mignatto’s doing, and for a second I pity Guido. The point has already been made. But if this is what it takes to free Simon, then so be it.