The Fifth Gospel(224)

            I don’t know where to begin again. With Falcone here, I have to keep meticulous track of every detail.

            “My brother,” I say, “must’ve come out of the villa looking for Nogara and me. He saw us standing by Nogara’s car.”

            4:50 on the surveillance video. Simon passes by.

            “Where was the car parked?” Falcone asks.

            He’s testing me.

            “In the small parking lot south of the villa,” I say, “just inside the gate.”

            “But why?” Archbishop Nowak says, impatient at the interruption.

            The lies come more and more easily. “All I could think of was my father,” I say. “He never recovered from his humiliation in front of the Orthodox. I couldn’t let that happen to Simon.”

            Falcone interrupts again. “How did you know about the presence of the gun?”

            I had hoped to rush through this part of the story. Even now, I can’t square this circle. Simon must’ve had keys to the chain of the gun case. Yet he didn’t have the keys to the car. He must’ve known the combination but had to break the window with his fist. There’s something here that, even now, I don’t understand.

            “Nogara came back to his car,” I say, “to get his lecture notes. While he was pulling them out of his glove compartment, I saw the gun case under his seat. It didn’t look like it was closed all the way. I don’t know why I did it. The sight of that case just changed something in me.”

            John Paul’s lips are parted. He breathes through his mouth. I am disgusted with myself.

            But Falcone is relentless. “So you took the gun out of the open car?”

            “No. Ugo closed the door and walked away. We were arguing with each other. He didn’t care what would happen when the Orthodox found out. He thought the exhibit was destroyed. I . . . I told him I wasn’t going to let him do it. I threatened him. That’s when I went back to his car for the gun.”

            Archbishop Nowak nods. He must see it on one of the pages in front of him: my hair found in the foot well of Ugo’s car.

            But nothing distracts Falcone. The human conflict is irrelevant. All that matters to him is the gun. “You knew the combination to the case?”

            “No. As I told you, it wasn’t completely shut.”

            “Then how did you remove the chain?”

            “I didn’t. Not until I needed to hide it later. Then I used Nogara’s keys.”

            Falcone scowls. “From his dead body?”

            I can’t hold his stare. I simply nod.

            “Go on,” Nowak says.

            “I caught up to Ugo when he was walking back into the gardens. I only meant to scare him. But he wouldn’t turn around to look at me, so I had to come right up to him. He saw the gun. He put up one of his hands to protect himself. When his hand hit the gun, the gun went off.”

            I watch Falcone, certain he will remember that the autopsy found gunshot residue on one of Ugo’s hands. A single bullet wound at close range.

            “Where was your brother as this happened?” he says.

            “When Simon heard the gunshot, he came running. He got down on his knees and tried to revive Doctor Nogara, but it was too late.”

            I haven’t invented this last detail. I believe it’s the explanation for the mud on Simon’s cassock.