“But, as you might guess, war is complicated. War is sciatta. Messy. After September ’forty-three, although the armistice was in full force and we were supposed to be fighting together, many of the American soldiers did not trust the Italians. My grandfather was a brave and decorated infantry commander who was in charge of, you would say, a company of men to assist the U.S. Fifth Army and break through the Bernhardt Line, halfway between Rome and Naples. A very stubborn defense on the part of the Nazis.

“My grandfather led his men behind the line, near San Pietro. They attacked from the rear and achieved a gorgeous victory, though suffered heavy losses. But when the U.S. troops moved forward, they found my grandfather’s unit behind the lines. They hadn’t heard about his operation. They disarmed the thirty or so survivors of my grandfather’s company and rounded them up. But they did not bother to talk to their headquarters. They didn’t listen to my grandfather’s pleas. And threw them all together in a PoW camp, populated with three hundred Nazis.” He gave a chill laugh. “Do you want to imagine how long the Italians lived, at the hands of their ‘colleagues’? About ten hours, the story goes. And the report was that most died very unpleasant deaths, my grandfather among them. The Americans merely listened to the screams. When the truth came out, a major with the Fifth Army issued an apology to the six survivors. A major issued the apology. Not a general, not a colonel. A major. He was twenty-eight years old.

“I will add this: War is not only messy but it has consequences we cannot foresee. Now, my mother was a little girl when her father died in that camp. She barely knew him. But something about his loss affected her mind. This, my grandmother believed, in any case. She was never quite right. She married and gave birth to me and to my brother but began to have episodes just after I was born. They grew worse. Depression then mania, depression then mania. Disrobing in public, sometimes when she had arrived to collect my brother and me from school. Sometimes in church. Screaming. She received treatments, extreme treatments.”

It’s rare that someone knows the raw ingredients of electroconductive gel…

“Those did nothing more than destroy her short-term memory. The sadness remained.”

“And her condition now?”

“She is in a home. My brother and I visit. She sometimes knows us. New medications, they have stabilized her. It is, they say, about the best we can hope for.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.”

“Can I blame your country for this, too, in addition to her father’s death? But I have chosen to, and for some very unfair reason that relieves the burden. Allora, that is what I have to say. All I have to say.”

Rhyme nodded, acknowledging the oblique apology, which, he knew, was heartfelt nonetheless.

Spiro slapped his thigh, signaling that the discussion on this topic was at an end. “Now, we are agreed that our goal is the truth behind the Garry Soames case. What approach do we take now?”