Death Brings Gold - Nicola Rocca 8 стр.

“Alright then,” the woman surrendered. “I admit I have had a relation with another man. But I can assure you that it has nothing to do with my husband’s death. We were at odds, it’s true, but that doesn’t mean I wanted him dead.”

Walker exchanged a look with Bassani. And this is our first one, he seemed to be saying.

“Try to relax, Mrs Pilenga. If you had admitted your extra-marital relation immediately, you wouldn’t be here now.”

The Inspector leaned against the back of his armchair again and observed the woman before him without sympathy. Better being a bachelor for life, than having a wife like her.

“Maybe this relation has nothing to do with the death of your husband but, as I’ve told you before, we need to follow any lead. And at the moment a crime of passion seems to be the only one.”

Mrs Pilenga nodded. It looked like she had understood. She sniffed and dried her eyes again, shaking her head negatively.

“Can I go now?”

Walker sighed. He looked at his assistant and then at the widow again.

“Zambetti, offer Mrs Pilenga something warm to drink – if she’d like – and then accompany her to the exit.”

The assistant nodded. He was about to escort the woman towards the door, but Walker’s voice stopped them.

“Mrs Pilenga?”

“Yes?” she answered , turning back.

“With whom did you have an affair?”

Walker’s voice was calm, but steady.

Martina Pilenga shook her head, as if to push away a question that wasn’t going away. She lowered her eyes and murmured a name.

Zambetti took her by the arm, as you would do with someone who is barely standing up, and escorted her out of the room.

“Did she get offended ?” asked Walker.

“Maybe a bit. But you did well to be so frank, Chief.”

He was beginning to like this Bassani. Caslini had better hurry back from his holidays, Walker thought ironically. Or he was going to find his place taken.

“What do you think?” he asked him.

“About what, Chief?”

“That she might have killed him.”

“Her husband?” asked Bassani doubtful.

“Mh-hm,” agreed David.

“I don’t think so. It seems unthinkable that such a petite woman could even hurt a man. Let alone kill him.”

“Good observation,” said the Inspector. “She could never have done it. Unless…”

“Unless?” asked the man, curious.

“Unless she had an accomplice”.

“An accomplice?”

How the hell can Bassani not bloody get it? Maybe Caslini didn’t have to worry about losing his job after all.

“Yes, an accomplice, for God’s sake. A crime of passion. To get rid of the betrayed husband. The wife, along with her lover and accomplice, kills the husband. A story as old as time!”

Bassani stood there with his mouth open, his eyes like saucers.

“Do you really believe that woman and her lover might have killed that guy?”

“Of course not,” answered Walker straight off, quickly waving his hand through the air, as if he wanted to slap away the idiocy of what he had just heard. “Why would they put that necktie around the victim’s neck?”

Bassani was fed up with the Inspector’s flights of fancy. Firstly he would say one thing, and soon after he would dismiss it. You need to have a lot of patience with your superiors.

“Maybe to mislead the investigations, Chief.”

Walker smiled, allowing himself a blessed moment with his cigarette.

“Do you mind?” he asked after he lit it.

The man gave his approval opening his arms ambiguously. What else could he do?

“But have you seen her, Bassani? Does she look to you like someone who could mislead an investigation? That is a frustrated woman, in search of something her husband couldn’t give her anymore. I’m afraid that Ghezzi’s death, on the other hand, is the work of a professional.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Mh-mh. And the tie around his neck is nothing else than the killer’s signature.”

The man nodded, showing a bitter resignation.

After a beat, it was Walker who spoke again.

“And what can you tell me about her lover, detective?”

Bassani thought about it.

“I don’t know Chief… I’ve got the impression that somehow I’ve heard that name before,” he said succinctly.

CHAPTER 15

When Inspector Walker entered Café Cielo, the man who had invited him to breakfast was already sitting down.

Walker greeted him with a nod and approached him.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning, Inspector,” replied Carobbio. “Please, sit down” he added, inviting him to take a seat.

Walker obeyed. Then he took off his gloves and scarf and rubbed his hands.

“What would you like?”

“Whatever you’re having will be fine,” said Walker, without giving it much thought.

“Two Scotches, then,” declared the Chief Inspector of Forensic Police.

Walker gave him an incredulous look.

“I was joking,” continued Carobbio, smiling. “You really think I’d have Scotch for breakfast?”

David smiled too.

When the waitress came, Carobbio ordered two cappuccinos with soy milk and two wholemeal chocolate brioches. The girl nodded, firstly showing a perfect smile and then, when she turned her back to them, a rear worthy of a standing ovation. Both men admired the ass, catching each other doing so. However neither one hazarded a comment.

“Chocolate in the morning wakes the mind up, Inspector,” said Carobbio. “Did you know it?”

Walker, still absorbed in following the progress of the girl’s bottom, was caught unprepared.

“No,” he answered, bringing his eyes towards the other man. “I’ve never heard this one. Maybe because in the morning I wake my mind up with these,” he concluded, throwing his packet of Marlboros on the table.

“Oh, Inspector, that’s a really bad habit! Anyway, that thing about the chocolate is not a rule. I mean… it wasn’t a Nobel prize winner who discovered it, but for me it works. I can’t explain why, but chocolate in the morning wakes up my neurons.”

“Well, let’s hope it has the same effect on mine”, Walker said with a wink.

After this amusing exchange of witty remarks, the waitress arrived with their breakfast.

Carobbio waited until the girl was gone.

“Let’s get down to it, Inspector. To serious matters,” he said gravely.

“I’m all ears,” answered Walker, knowing that the Chief of Forensic hadn’t invited him to breakfast just to discuss chocolate brioches.

Carobbio took all the time he needed to explain the situation.

“We have examined the fingerprints discovered at Ghezzi’s.” He chewed a piece of brioche with pleasure and swallowed it. “As I have probably already mentioned, three sets of fingerprints were found in the flat. One belongs to Ghezzi, the owner of the flat; the other to his wife, Mrs Martina Pilenga, and thus far everything seems normal.”

“We have examined the fingerprints discovered at Ghezzi’s.” He chewed a piece of brioche with pleasure and swallowed it. “As I have probably already mentioned, three sets of fingerprints were found in the flat. One belongs to Ghezzi, the owner of the flat; the other to his wife, Mrs Martina Pilenga, and thus far everything seems normal.”

Carobbio allowed himself another sip of cappuccino.

“The problem is the third set,” he continued calmly. “It belongs to a minor craftsman from that area.”

“And who is he?” asked Walker, curious.

“He’s someone called … ah, I’ve got his name on the tip of my tongue. Damned old age! Anyway, he’s known for being someone who is quick to use his hands.”

“What do you mean?” asked David, interrupting him.

Carrobbio continued, as if nothing had happened.

“It means that when there’s a fight, he is not the type to back down. He has a record because he has been charged several times for minor scuffles.”

“Well, fist fighting is not exactly like killing a man,” said Walker ironically.

“That’s true, Inspector. But if I were you, I’d start to get more information on this character. And I’d put him under surveillance.”

“I’ll work something out when I’m back at Police Headquarters.”

“Wise decision,” Carobbio congratulated him. Then, he became serious again, coming to his real purpose for organising their meeting. He slipped a yellow envelope out of his briefcase. He opened it and selected some photos featuring a man’s face. “I wanted to show you these.”

“Is he the third fingerprints man?” guessed Walker.

“That’s right,” confirmed Carobbio. “Do you know him?”

Walker took all the time he needed to observe the images.

“Never seen him before,” he acknowledged.

Carobbio slipped another sheet out of the envelope.

“And here you can find all his personal details. With my bad memory, I have to write everything down.”

Walker took it and started reading. Reading the man’s name and surname was enough to make his heart speed up.

Suddenly he lifted his eyes.

“Fuck!” he said. “I don’t know him, but I know who he is.”

When he arrived at Police Headquarters, Walker summoned Bassani to his office.

“Detective, we have a lead,” he informed him.

“Good.”

Then, before showing him the photographs, he rattled off the little speech he had prepared while he was in the car .

“Yesterday, when Mrs Pilenga mentioned the name of her lover, you said you had heard that name before. Is that right?”

“Yes, but I don’t remember where. My memory has never been my strongest point, Chief.”

Here’s another one with a short memory, Walker thought.

“Let me try to jog your memory” he said , as he laid out on his desk the photos Carobbio had left for him. “It’s Mrs Pilenga’s lover.”

Bassani tried to find a more comfortable position in his chair. He had barely looked at the photos when he blurted out:“ Damn!That’s where I heard that name before. Some years ago, when I was still in uniform, some other officers and I jumped in to stop a fight between locals and immigrants. He was one of the most difficult to handle.”

The detective paused briefly.

“He is one guy who really knows how to use these” he stated, holding up his hands.

Walker smiled, satisfied.

“Inspector Carobbio told me the same thing.”

He paused, just enough time to light another cigarette followed by two good drags.

“Maybe he’s the man we’re looking for,” he said, pointing at the face staring at him from the photographs.

CHAPTER 16

The sound of footsteps forced Romeo to look up. A last-minute client had just arrived.

He asked himself why some people just can’t come and buy their fucking newspaper half an hour earlier, instead of showing up two minutes before closing time, when he had already filled in the goods return form. He couldn’t wait to go home. The day had been deadly boring.

“The Evening Courier, please.”

The newsagent leaned forward to get the newspaper from the already wrapped parcel of return goods and handed it to the client.

“One fifty.” How many times had he already said those words?

The last-minute client rummaged in his pocket and retrieved the coins.

“Thank you,” said Romeo, “and good night.”

“Goodbye,” the man answered.

The newsagent stood staring at the client walking towards the exit. Suddenly, the man stopped.

What the hell is wrong with him now? Romeo asked himself.

Then he realised that something on the big notice board had caught the man’s attention.

Romeo kept watching him, while the man was looking at the collage of old photos.

“Do you like it?” asked Romeo, with a hint of irony.

“It looks like there’s a century of life here,” said the client, with an amused smile.

“Not a century. But half a century, yes.”

“Are you a photography enthusiast? I am too.”

“No, my passion is not photography. It’s only that I like seeing myself with the people who have come into my life and, in one way or another, have left a mark. Positive or negative. For example, in the first photo on the left I am with my wife on our wedding day. Negative mark: she left with somebody else before our fifth anniversary.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Ah, you don’t have to feel sorry. Life would have been hard with her. Maybe it was better like this. Actually, it was definitely better like this.”

Romeo noticed the embarrassed look on his client’s face. He tried to bring back the conversation towards a less personal level. In the end he would have liked to continue that conversation. It had been a long time since someone had looked at his photo collection.

“So do you like my idea? I mean, the photo collage.”

“It’s truly brilliant!” the man exclaimed, showing his amusement again. “But do you also have celebrities in there?”

Romeo went around the counter and joined the client. The conversation might begin to be interesting. In the end the day was taking a turn for the better. Coming home could wait.

“Well, celebrities… Yes, there’s some. For example, that one dates back about twenty years ago” he said, taking pride for it, while showing a photo that had faded with time. “I’m with Marco Van Basten, that was the year when AC Milan won both the UEFA Champions League and the Italian Champions. Eh… those were good times.”

“Indeed! Are you supporting AC Milan too, eh?”

“Yeah. But everything’s changed now. Now we’re a minor-league team.”

The client smiled, making a strange movement with his hand. He didn’t know why, but he was beginning to like that man.

“You’re right, it’s a really bad football team. It’s better taking an interest in something else. I don’t know… beautiful women, for example.”