“Let's be on with it you drunken oaf.” I said as I tried to hoist him off the ground. His pickled state left him with hardly enough strength to lift himself. Indeed, it seemed as if he was not even trying to aid me at all! I was alarmed at the impudence.

“Don't you know who I am…” I began as he lolled complacently in my grasp, to and fro across the sidewalk. “I am Inspector Da Vinci! I am the greatest- oh forget it. There's no way you can understand me if you're not sober enough to walk.” I had resorted to dragging him by this point. His face was pallid, no doubt with the embarrassment of being so thoroughly out of order when presented with the opportunity to meet Ricky. There are a few tricks you pick up when you've been chief inspector of the Florentine guard corps for as long as I have. His coat had almost imperceptible cross patterned markings on its back, a sure sign that he was one of the men who leaned against Loretta's shop each morning hoping for work or perhaps a kiss on the cheek. Clearly he could not have been as old as he seemed, and there is only one family on this north side seemingly born with gray hair: the Votini's! They had reported a son of theirs missing just last month, perhaps this was little Salvatore returned home? Though I doubt very much they would appreciate his being so gorged on red wine he couldn't help but allow the spittle to stain his work shirt, and mine.

“Oh Salvatore,” I said as I pulled him through the door to the guardhouse. “Someone's a-going to miss their meat-a-balls.” I beamed at the originality, and looked smiling to the guardsmen playing cards in the living quarters.

“What the---“The first one began, no doubt amazed by my detective abilities. Salvatore slumped at my feet, unable to fully enjoy my moment. “Sir, why did you bring the body of a beggar into the guardhouse?”

“It's not ordinary beggar.” I explained, “Can't you notice anything different about him?” Ah, the perfect time for a lesson!

“Well, he looks really really pale. And old.” One of the young recruits chimed in.

“Very good, Antonio. What else? Does anybody else have anything to add to the convotinisation?” So sly.

“He seems to have had his testicles forcibly removed recently. And he's missing a good chunk of his throat.”

I immediately studied Salvatore more closely. That certainly would have explained the raspy voice. Also, it made my meatball joke entirely inappropriate.

“He has a note attached to him too sir. It says,
“Tell them to stop fucking asking me for money. Do your job for Christ's sake. Oh, and I'm going to kill these people whether you help or not, I don't care what the old guy says.”

“The game is afoot, men. We need to find the Votini's immediately.”