“Take pictures of the impressions—shoes and tread marks.”

He did so, shooting from a number of different angles.

“Beatrice Renza? Is she good?”

“As a forensic officer? I never met her until the other day. Again, I am new to the Police of State. But Beatrice seems good, yes. Though she is aloof. And…Is it a word: attitudinal?”

“Yep.”

“Not like Daniela,” Ercole said wistfully.

“You think photos will be enough for her to type the tread marks, or should we call a forensic team in?”

“I think the photos will do for her. She will browbeat them into submission.”

Sachs laughed. “And scoop up samples of the dirt where he stood and sat.”

“Yes, I will.”

She handed him some empty bags. But he had already produced some of his own from his uniform pocket.

She squinted back toward the restaurant. “And something else?”

“What, Detective? Amelia.”

She said, “You’re a Forestry officer. Do you by any chance have a saw in the trunk of your car?”

“As a matter of fact, I have three.”

Chapter 25

Cos’è quello?”

Rhyme could translate that one for himself. In fact, he was wondering the same thing.

Ercole, who was carting in the—presumably—item of evidence, answered, “It’s St. John’s bread. You might know it as a carob tree. Ceratonia siliqua.” The object was foliage, about five feet tall, four branches joined to a single trunk. It had been sawn off at the base.

In gloved hands Ercole also carried a large plastic bag containing smaller bags, filled with dirt and grass.

They were in the situation room once more. Sachs accompanied Ercole. Massimo Rossi and earnest, unsmiling forensic officer Beatrice Renza were present too. Though it was an odd piece of evidence, the woman regarded the large foliage with the same clinical detachment as she might a bullet casing or latent friction ridge lift.

Rhyme noted that Sachs’s hands were glove-free—in keeping with her limited role as translator. Or the appearance of her limited role.

Ercole continued enthusiastically, “It is quite an interesting plant. Of course, the beans are used to make carob powder, like chocolate. The name ‘carob,’ I find most interesting, is the source for the word ‘carat,’ as per the measuring unit for diamonds.”

“Forestry Officer, I do not care about its esteemed place in the pantheon of plants,” Spiro growled. “Could you be more responsive to my question?” He slipped into his pocket the slim book he’d been jotting notes in, the book he was never without.

Ercole regarded the book with concern once again, it seemed, and answered quickly, “I found a place where the Composer was spying on Ali Maziq and the man he had dinner with.”

“You found him, this Arabic speaker?” Spiro asked.

“No. But I learned he’s Italian, though most likely not Campanian,” Ercole continued, with a glance toward Beatrice. “The pictures I uploaded?”

The forensic officer answered, “I will say that the shoe prints were not dissimilar to those left by the kidnapper in New York and at the bus stop where Maziq was kidnapped. Converse Cons, most likely. And the tire treads too are indicative of the same model as at the bus stop. The Michelins.”