36. No, it was not Salvatore.

Elena.

After leaving the Ferrari’s estate, even though I literally had nowhere to go, but with the money that was with me, I decided to look for the cheapest hotel I could find but it was futile so after walking around all though the day, seeing that the night was falling so fast, I had to settle for a first motel that I sighted.

The motel was an old building that had somehow managed to elbow its way between a converted warehouse and a block of apartments. The hotel had just five bedrooms, stacked on top of one another like a house of cards, each one with a view of the canal. The flower market was a short walk away and even at night the air smelled sweet.

Dressed in a long black dress with a facemask and scarf wrapped around my head, while carrying a little bag of clothes and some food, I walked into the building.

The motel lobby had the same odour as an old folks home. The floor carpet was a decade too old and with an old fashioned pattern of large flowers interrupted by worn and thr