Page 60 of The Unraveling of Julia

Piero spread his palms,Why not?

“Wow.” Julia assumed she inherited a Ferrari. “Does it work?”

“Perfetto.” Piero spoke to his wife in Italian, and Anna Mattia turned to Julia.

“’E take for service, ’e take very good care.”

“How old is the car? What year?”

Anna Mattia asked Piero, who answered, then she returned to Julia. “2012.”

“Where does Piero take it for service?”

“Firenze. Signora ’ave already when we come. Piero drive, noruggine, no rust.”

“He drives it so it doesn’t get rusty?”

“Sì.” Piero dug in his baggy pockets and handed her the keys.

“Thanks.” Julia went to the driver’s side, unlocked the door, and sat in the cushy driver’s seat. The interior had plush leather the color of butterscotch and matching rugs. The dashboard was matte black, and the car had a radio and a small screen near the console. The steering wheel was skinny and black, with the Ferrari plaque in the center of a red Start push button.

Julia asked Piero, “It has a push buttonandkeys?”

“Sì.” Piero mimed turning a key then pushing a button.

“It’s an automatic, right?”

“Sì, automatico.”

“Where’s its title?” Julia assumed Rossi owned the car outright.

Anna Mattia answered, “Signora ’ave, gone. Burned.”

“Jeez.” Julia mulled it over, shaking her head. “She didn’t burn the car. Why?”

Anna Mattia shrugged. “She forget? She sick, she no drive.”

Julia was struck by a revolting thought, which made sense now that she’d found the underground cell. Maybe Rossi had burned her things to destroy any evidence, like hair, fingerprints, or fibers. She could’ve been trying to cover her tracks and ensure that nothing remained to trace her to any crimes. Maybe she was eliminating traces of any victim’s DNA, too.

Julia hoped it wasn’t true. She scanned the interior for residual hair, fibers, or anything else, but it was immaculate. “This car is so clean.”

Piero nodded, puffing his chest.

Anna Mattia added, “Every two week, ’e clean, no dust, no dirt, no mouse. ’E worry they eat wires, so ’e keep clean.”

Arg.“Does he vacuum, too?”

“Sì, Dyson!” Anna Mattia gestured to the console and side panels. “’E Dyson everywhere.”

Damn.Julia inserted the key in the ignition. The engine sprang to life with a throaty roar that filled the garage.

Piero grinned. Anna Mattia covered her ears.

Julia scanned the dials. The odometer read 56,000 kilometers. She cut the ignition. “This car is a 2012, and you guys came in 2013, is that right?”

They nodded.

“And she got sick in 2015. Did she drive much after she got sick?”

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