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A violent explosion during the inauguration party of Villa Brandi, an eighteenth-century villa restored thanks to the financial contribution from a well-known international football coach, causes four people to lose their life with a fifth seriously injured. Caterina Ruggeri, head of the local Homicide Division, who is present at the party with her partner and has escaped unhurt from the attack, will immediately take the reins of the investigation. Her work however is misled by obscure characters linked on one hand to the local Freemasonry and on the other to the Secret Services. Our detective will have to overcome many obstacles to arrive at the truth, which has its roots in the mists of time.
Police Commissioner Caterina Ruggeri is a sharp, smart and courageous woman. She is the mother of a beautiful little girl named Aurora and loves to spend the evenings in the company of Stefano, her constant companion. But under this façade of an ordinary woman hides an enterprising and adventurous heroine, always ready to take on new investigations. Like the one that sees her involved in a bombing attack during the inauguration party of Villa Brandi, an eighteenth-century residence in the Marche region purchased by a famous international football coach. It seems that the attack was masterfully carried out by a nameless and faceless enemy, and is the beginning of a new adventure, which will drag the unstoppable commissioner into an endless enigma, which has its roots even in the ancient Masonic Lodges. There will be many red herrings on the part of unsavory individuals linked to government secret services.
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Seitenzahl: 640
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022
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To my wife Paola
To my children Diego and Debora
To my granddaughters Maeve and Eileen
Tektime Editions
Stefano Vignaroli
A Quiet Provincial Town
The Mysteries of Villa Brandi
©2013 MJM Editore (The Mysteries of Villa Brandi)
©2021 Tektime (second revised and modified edition)
All reproduction, distribution and translation rights are reserved
The passages on the history of Jesi have been taken and freely adapted from the written works of Giuseppe Luconi
Translation by Barbara Maher
Website http://www.stedevigna. com
E-mail for contacts [email protected]
Piazza Federico II
Oil on canvas by Mario Ciccoli, artist from Jesi
Stefano Vignaroli
A QUIET PROVINCIAL TOWN
The Mysteries of Villa Brandi
The Investigations of Commissioner Caterina Ruggeri
A NOVEL
Table of Contents
LEGEND
FORWARD
PROLOGUE
CATERINA…
VERONICA…
VERONICA…
CATERINA…
THE FOUNDATION OF AESIS
CHAMPIONS LEAGUE FINAL
MARIA LUCIA BRANDI
PARTY IN THE VILLA
BACK ON THE JOB
PROFESSOR WHU AND NANOMACHINES
TRACKS AND MISDIRECTIONS
A PLEASANT SUNDAY WALK
SAN SETTIMIO FAIR
PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE
THE LONG LIVING VLADIMIRO BRANDI
MISTERIOUS DUNGEONS
A SHORT BUT FULL-ON VACATION
THE JAIL’S PALACE ELEVATOR
TWO STRANGE POLICEMEN
THE DETECTIVE AND HER INFORMANT
AN ANCIENT DILEMMA
GRAFFITI
TERROR UNDERGROUND
THE CHICKENS COME HOME TO ROOST
EPILOGUE
FUTURE
AUTHOR’S NOTES AND THANKS
LEGEND
1 – Piazza Federico II (Piazza San Floriano – Ex Acropolis or Forum)
2 – Palazzo Baldeschi-Balleani
3 – Porta Valle (Porta Pesa)
4 – Palazzo Battaglia
5 – Round Tower
6 – Porta Bersaglieri (Porta Nova or Porta Marina)
7 – Via Pergolesi (Via degli Orefici)
8 – Giardinetti delle Carceri
9 – Watchtower
10 – Construction site for the construction of the lift
11 – Costa di Montirozzo and Torrioncino
12 – Palazzo Pianetti II (former District Prison)
13 – Ancient Roman cistern
14 –San Floriano complex (Civic Museum and Experimental Theatre)
15 – Porta Garibaldi (Porta San Floriano)
16 –Regional Wine Cellar of the Marche
17 – Ancient Roman amphitheater area
18 – Palazzo del Governo (or della Signoria)
19 – Piazza A. Colocci
20 – Palace and Museum Fondazione Colocci
21 – Palazzo Carotti-Honorati (Court headquarters)
22 – Palazzo Mestica
23 – Piazza Baccio Pontelli
24 – Costa Mezzalancia (Ladders of Death)
25 – Arco del Magistrato (Porta della Rocca)
26 – Cathedral (San Settimio)
27 – Via delle Terme
28 – Piazza Indipendenza (Piazza delle scarpe)
29 – Piazza Spontini (Piazza del Soccorso)
30 – Piazza delle Monnighette
31 – Arco del Soccorso (Arco della Morte)
32 – South Tower
33 – Piazza Sansovino
34 – Old soap factory area (former Church of San Benedetto)
A-B – Cardo Massimo (Arco del Magistrato – Via Pergolesi - Piazza Federico II – Via delle Terme – Porta Bersaglieri)
C-D – Decumano Massimo (Porta Valle - Via Lucagnolo – Costa Lombarda – Piazza Federico II - Via del Fortino – Porta Garibaldi)
FORWARD
Police Commissioner Caterina Ruggeri is a quick-witted, brilliant and courageous woman. She is the mother of a beautiful little girl named Aurora and loves to spend the evenings in the company of Stefano, her constant companion. But under this façade of an ordinary woman hides an enterprising and adventurous heroine, always ready to take on new investigations. Like the one that sees her directly involved during the inauguration of Villa Brandi - an eighteenth-century residence in the Marche region, purchased by a famous international football coach - in a bombing attack masterfully carried out by a nameless and faceless enemy. It is the beginning of a new adventure, which will drag the irrepressible commissioner into an endless enigma, which even has its roots in the ancient Masonic Lodges.
With "The Mysteries of Villa Brandi", Stefano Vignaroli writes a novel that, better than any other, traces the contours of a mysterious and fascinating Jesi. Colors, sounds, images and scents are condensed into a book that has the flavor of history and a tinge of the arcane.
From the third century B.C. to the present day, a breathtaking thriller that is full of emotions and memories. And when you have finished reading it, at the exact moment when you turn the last page, you cannot help but re-evaluate the charm of our country.
Filippo Munaro
PROLOGUE
August 2009
CATERINA…
The long weekend of Ferragosto1 had passed quickly and on the morning of the 17th I found myself on the Ancona – Genoa flight again to return to my place of work, immersed in my thoughts once more. It had been lovely to spend two whole days with Stefano, making plans for the future, talking about ourselves and the child we were expecting and exchanging the affection we feel for each other. In the short time I had been in Liguria, my partner had changed his lifestyle, and I'm not talking about just his passion for music. He had left his room in the clinic to move to a farmhouse a few kilometers away. It was a wonderful place, immersed in the green hills of the Marche region. The house was cozy and tastefully decorated, in perfect rustic style. A fireplace, standing proudly in the living room, would warm the cold winter evenings. By passing through a large courtyard, ideal for spending summer days and evenings outdoors, you reached the stables where there were already two horses and a pony. A little further on were the kennels for the dogs, two of which were already occupied by a Great Dane and a Gordon Setter. The farmhouse bordered a small wood at the rear and cultivated fields on the other sides.
"It's wonderful," I said to Stefano, while we were in the courtyard enjoying the colors of a beautiful sunset. "Too bad I won't be able to enjoy this place with you for very long!"
"Oh, not necessarily. You could ask to be closer because of your pregnancy. And anyway, from the moment you start maternity leave, you’ll come here and there’s no way I’ll let you leave until our son has grown quite a bit. We’ll ride the two horses, but the pony is reserved for the little guy."
"Or little girl! Why do you only talk about a boy?"
Smiling and joking, Stefano took me by the hand, led me quickly to the stable, untied the horses, and without even saddling them, invited me to hop onto the mare, while he mounted the male. The horses were docile and it was easy to ride them even without saddle and harnesses. All this reminded me of the times when, as a young girl, I often competed with him to get the best horse in the stable we frequented, spurring the unfortunate animals along tracks and dirt roads, clinging to its mane. Great times! Of course, I would have loved to live my life there with Stefano, but how could I have been able to do that with my work? I loved my work too and I wouldn't have swapped it for anything in the world.
On Monday morning Stefano had accompanied me to the airport, staying close to me until the call for boarding. Saying goodbye was really hard, but duty called and, somewhat reluctantly, I got on the plane. Now that we were about to land, my emotions were giving way to the desire to return to work. All said and done, I liked being in Imperia and got on very well with my colleagues. I realized that the Precinct was a bit like a big family and I now felt like a good boss that everyone accepted, not because I imposed my will, but because I had the ability to coordinate that wonderful group of willing policemen, showing that I did my part when it was necessary. It was certainly true that, apart from the investigation into the killings in Triora, it was a rather quiet place. Of course, there was no lack of episodes of petty crime and considering the fact that police districts are chronically understaffed, we were all forced to do prolonged work shifts to cover the service adequately. I had been happy that Inspector Giampieri, faced with the choice of whether to stay in the precinct or return to work alongside the police commissioner, had chosen the first alternative without hesitation. I was now very fond of him, he was my deputy, I considered him my alter ego and it would have been difficult for me to have to do without him, also in consideration of the good chemistry that had been immediately established between the two of us.
This time neither he nor anyone else was waiting for me in the arrivals hall of Genoa airport, so I picked up my luggage and got a taxi to Imperia.
When I set foot inside the Precinct, I realized that there was an unusual hustle and bustle. There had been a brawl at the port during the night between foreign immigrants, and my colleagues had arrested some colored people who were making a terrible noise. I asked D'Aloia for explanations.
"Almost all of them were drunk, Commissioner. They started arguing, I think it was for reasons related to their religion and when the discussion degenerated they started throwing empty bottles of beer. Someone got hit in the head and was medicated at Emergency. Now I’m about to take their statements, check their residence permits and kick them out of here as soon as possible."
"Good luck, D'Aloia! I don't see that as being easy."
At six in the afternoon, when I left my room, Walter was in fact still dealing with some of them who, despite not having a residence permit in order, claimed that they worked for some construction companies, obviously off the books.
"Commissioner, I don't know what to do. I should give them expulsion orders, but I feel sorry for them!"
"There would be a solution: they report the people who make them work illegally and we give them a temporary residence permit for up to three months." I smiled at D'Aloia, because I knew very well that not one of them would have the courage to file a complaint, perhaps putting other friends or relatives who worked for the same companies in difficulty, and I left the Precinct to head home. I was about to stop a taxi, when Mauro appeared behind me.
"I have my own car and for today I'm done. I’m going to Ventimiglia to meet Anna, I think that I can make a detour to accompany you home and I won’t be too late."
I gladly accepted the ride and within a quarter of an hour I finally arrived home. Clara was in the garden playing with Fury and I noticed that as she greeted my colleague there was a lot of complicity. At the time I didn't pay much attention to the thing, after all we had spent a lot of time all together recently. And then I had other things on my mind.
One of the priorities I had in the next few days was to contact a gynecologist to follow me during pregnancy. Laura recommended a young doctor who worked in the Obstetrics department of the Imperia Hospital.
“Dr. Valeri is always available and very easy going. The department here in Imperia is avantgarde and people prefer to be visited in the public structure rather than in external private clinics. You’re sure to be happy with that."
Laura's advice was excellent and, after a few days, I left the gynecologist's office with the first ultrasound images of the creature I was carrying in my womb and the list of an endless series of laboratory tests to be performed. The sex of the fetus was not yet certain, but the Doctor had given me a hint.
"Eighty percent female, but I wouldn't swear by it yet."
The next ultrasound, about a month later, would confirm that she was a female and in my heart I decided that she would be called Aurora.
Being pregnant did not bother me and I was able to carry out all my commitments, both work and extra. Going towards autumn I had started to attend a gym to keep fit, and the instructor had proposed a personalized plan, also appropriate to the fact that I was pregnant.
In mid-October, in record time, the restoration of the Della Rosa house had been completed, and it was ready to welcome Clara as Director of the Esoteric Studies Foundation of Triora. I had supported Clara in those months and helped her develop her ideas. The girl was really smart and had a remarkable intelligence and wisdom. I think she listened to my advice more out of courtesy than because she needed it. She already knew the texts and manuscripts inside the witch's house, for having cataloged and arranged them at the time, even if much material was then lost in the fire at the dwelling. The pentacle hall would become a study center open to all those who wished to enrich their cultural baggage in the field of magic and esotericism, under the watchful guidance of the director and librarian Clara Giauni. Mauro was increasingly present to help our friend, especially for the heavy work such as setting up shelving, arranging furnishings and so on. The most delicate part, adapting the secret passages and the underground tunnels to a guided tourist tour, was in practice directed by Mauro, who seemed almost a real expert of the Superintendence of Fine Arts or Cultural Heritage. What amazed me the most, and worried me a little, was that instead I saw Anna more and more rarely beside him. I was already beginning to suspect something, when one day I surprised Mauro and Clara exchanging tender effusions. Caught off guard by my unexpected presence, Mauro mumbled something.
"Don’t worry, Anna has known everything for a few days. We broke up as good friends."
Of course, that’s what they always say, but then you have to see how the person who has been abandoned is taking it, who usually feels an unfillable void inside, even though they try to pretend everything’s alright and not make the thing weigh on the other. So I phoned Anna and realized she was not taking it well.
"I know I shouldn't get so upset, Caterina. Mauro and I have always lived our relationship in complete freedom and I have always considered it very normal that it could end at any moment, but now I feel bad. I’m not angry with him or Clara, of course, but I miss Mauro very much."
We decided to go to dinner together and it took me a lot of effort to console her and try to take the conversation to other topics. After dinner in a trattoria2 in Sanremo, we decided to devote ourselves to total leisure, and went over the border into the principality of Monaco to spend the night at the casino in Montecarlo. I returned home at dawn, but that was the last madness I allowed myself, since the increase in the circumference of my waist suggested that I begin a phase of my existence that was quieter and more regulated.
In November Clara and Mauro moved permanently to the former Della Rosa house and I was left alone to share the farmhouse in the lower Argentina Valley with Furia. The inauguration of the Study Center, in the presence of important authorities in the middle of November, was a beautiful celebration. Casa Della Rosa shone with new life. The hall of the pentacle, restored, was wonderful, the fire had not ruined the marble of the floor at all and, polished, was spectacular. The mirror had been left open, so that the library full of ancient texts and manuscripts were visible. A long solid wood table had been placed in the large living room, available to scholars who wanted to consult the texts which were dispensed through a desk set up at the passage from the living room itself to the library, once bordered by the sliding mirror. It was still working, but the complicated opening mechanism had been replaced by a convenient remote control. The long table was at that moment set up for refreshments and, after the speeches of the Mayor, an Undersecretary of the Ministry of Cultural Heritage, Dr. Leone and Dr. Honoris Causa Clara Giauni, a catering company covered it with every delicacy known to man.
When, one by one, all the illustrious guests had left, I was left alone with Clara and Mauro. I was really happy to have been able to help that girl, not only had I saved her life, but now she had a future ahead of her, and it was not little. And she had also found a very good partner, albeit at the expense of another woman. And there was Anna looking in from the front door.
"I came to give you my sincere congratulations, Clara, it's all wonderful and you deserved it."
She kissed both Clara and Mauro with affection, and I noticed that there was no shadow of resentment in her gestures, which were clearly sincere.
Thank goodness I said to myself, The storm may have passed. Or maybe Anna is very adept at hiding her true feelings!
"Well, guys, I wish all of you well. Unfortunately in a few days I will be leaving you. I have already prepared the request for maternity leave and I really believe that I’ll be spending the last phase of my pregnancy in the Marche with to my partner. But even if we don't see each other, we'll keep in touch!"
Mauro, Clara, and Anna all assured me that not a day would go by when we didn’t speak by phone, or perhaps with a simple SMS. I went home happy, full of that human warmth that I had rarely felt in my life. It would be hard to leave those places, wonderful in so many ways. I was convinced that in any case I would return there in a few months, not knowing then what life and destiny had in store for me.
When I entered Dr. Perugini's room to deliver the envelope containing my request for leave, I saw that the Police Commissioner in turn had a large envelope in his handwith my name written in block letters.
"I knew that your contacts with the witches of Triora had endowed you with supernatural powers, but this is pure telepathy, my dear Commissioner. I was just about to call you here!"
"Good. You first or me first?" I said, alternating my gaze from my envelope to his.
"I believe that after you have read the contents of this, there will no longer be any need for you to present anything to me, requests for vacation, leave or anything else...", he said, handing me the sealed envelope, but judging by the complicit smile he had printed on his face, he knew the contents of it very well. I opened the envelope, which came from the Ministry of the Interior, and began to run my eyes over what was written.
Given the remarkable investigative skills, as well as the contempt for danger, the self-denial and attention to the people involved in the investigations... Dr. Caterina Ruggeri, currently stationed at the Police Headquarters of Imperia with the rank of Commissioner, by decision of this Minister, is promoted to Deputy Vice Commissioner and assigned to the Police Headquarters of Ancona, where she will need to take service by December 15 p.v. The Police Commissioner will arrange her place of service, according to the needs, taking into account Dr. Ruggeri’s excellent qualities...
I could hardly believe what I was reading. In a very short period of time I had advanced in my career in an unexpected, I would say incredible, way. The Minister of the Interior himself was dispensing praise to me and, moreover, after only a few months spent away from my places of origin, I could return to work close to home, and precisely in conjunction with becoming a mother. I said goodbye to Dr. Perugini, thanking him for all he had done for me in that short period and left the Police Headquarters with my head bursting from all the thoughts that were crowding it. I got in the car and didn't even notice the road I had taken to get home, I was so absorbed in my mental elucubrations. There were no decisions to be made, as had happened a few months earlier. At that moment the decisions had already been taken for me, and I certainly couldn’t oppose it. Yet I loved these places, even though I had lived there for a very short time, and I couldn't stand the idea of going away, perhaps forever, from my new friendships. In my entire life I had never had such intense human relationships, of friendship, of solidarity, as those I had experienced in that recent period. I didn't even have the courage to say goodbye to Mauro, or Clara, or Anna, but neither did I have the courage to say goodbye to Laura, D'Aloia and even Inspector Gramaglia or the last agent who worked at the Precinct.
But, on the other hand, I would return to my beloved places of origin, I would be close to my love, to the father of my child. And the little girl would be able to live in a normal family atmosphere and enjoy the presence of an affectionate father. I knew that my job would keep me out of the house a lot and that, if my daughter had to grow up alone with me, I would have to continuously entrust her to nurseries and babysitters. In this way, however, everything would be easier.
There were only a few days left to spend in Liguria. Winter was just around the corner and the cold, also due to the proximity of the mountains already covered with snow on the tips, was making itself felt. More and more frequently Furia tried to come inside to crouch in front of the flames of the fireplace. Not without a touch of melancholy, I began to gather my things together, preparing some boxes to load in the car along with the suitcases.
Who knows why! I wondered. Even in a short time a person is able to accumulate an incredible amount of objects and don’t want to separate from them for any reason.
Among other things, I found the precious book written in Hebrew with translation in Latin opposite, which had remained in my hands on the day of the fire at the Della Rosa house. I had always kept it as a souvenir of the investigation and the close escape, but at that moment I decided that it was right to return it to Clara. So I took the opportunity to visit her and say goodbye to her and Mauro.
"Thank you, Caterina. I thought this book had been lost forever in the flames, and instead... But let me give you a copy of the Key of Solomon translated into Italian. You can keep it as a souvenir and you’ll be able to understand the power, wisdom and mysteries that are hidden in the text. Only you know how that night you were able to recite by heart the invocation that allowed you to save my life. And you recited it in perfect Hebrew."
Mauro had gone out to get some wood for the fireplace, and since we were alone I confessed to her what I think she already knew.
"It was Aurora Della Rosa who instilled the words in my mind, but I never spoke about it with anyone. I think you’re the only one who can understand me. In fact, after having the relationship with the sorceress I’ve changed, I have perceptions that previously I would not even have dreamed of having. If I concentrate, I see people’s aura, and I have the impression that I can also guess what those in front of me are thinking."
"These are powers, my dear Caterina, that we all have innately. The frontiers of the human mind are still unexplored. There are those who learn to make use of certain skills and those who neglect them, they don’t train themselves to use them and therefore it is as if they didn’t possess them."
"Be that as it may, I believe that it was Aurora Della Rosa who favored the development of these perceptions in me, new and fantastic for me, and so I’ve decided that my daughter will be called Aurora in her honor and in her memory, and also because I feel partly responsible for her death, or at least for not having done enough to avoid it."
I saw that as she heard that name, Clara's eyes had become misty.
"All this does you honor, Caterina. Certainly your little girl, regardless of the name you give her, will have an exceptional personality. Don’t think that, because of the distance, I won’t get to know your daughter! It certainly won't be a few hundred kilometers that will stop me!"
Mauro had returned with an armful of wood, cut into logs, and dropped it near the fireplace.
"If the housewives chatter is over, I’d like to say goodbye to my colleague too, before she leaves for a remote region of Central Italy. The State Police over there must still be in the Stone Age!"
"Oh, they certainly don't have a Lamborghini Gallardo as a service vehicle," I said, imitating his sarcastic tone. "But nothing will prevent me from asking for your specific collaboration, when I’m entangled in a particularly complicated investigation."
"Ah, the way you attract them, I don't think it will be long before you call me!"
I stopped for dinner with them and, what with one quip and another, a glass of red wine, a grappa and a mandarin punch, I got back in the car with a blood alcohol level higher than was allowed, but happy to have spent an evening with real friends.
I decided not to return to the Marche by plane, but face the long journey in my car, so Furia would travel with me too.
Fall/Winter 2009/2010
VERONICA…
It is well into autumn, even if the temperature is still pleasant. The days have become shorter and at 20.30 it is already night. The girl, slight although rather tall with short blond hair cut in a boyish style advances slowly, limping, helping herself with a crutch. In her free hand is a paper bag containing her frugal dinner. She reaches the canopy of the bus stop at the beginning of Viale Trieste and sits down on the bench with difficulty. She looks around to make sure there is no mugger around. The only passer-by is the veterinarian who still lives in that neighborhood, perhaps because he has a house and office there and, unlike most Italian families, has not succumbed to the temptation to move to the other side of the city. Fortunately a reassuring presence who takes his cute white dog for an evening walk at that hour. The girl eats her sandwich in a few bites, then looks for the pack of cigarettes, but realizes that the one she has in her pocket is now empty. Leonardo Albini materializes from the darkness as only he can do, as if he suddenly came out from a cloak of invisibility. His movements don’t escape another person, Dr. Zanardi, the Commissioner of the Police Precinct, who is invariably on the sidewalk on the other side of the road, leaning with her back to the wall as she pretends to fiddle with the keys of her car. Leonardo sits on the bench next to the girl and places papers and tobacco on her lap. She makes her own cigarette and lights it.
"Are you sure you want to know? Believe me, revenge doesn’t pay."
"But it leaves a good taste in your mouth, like this tobacco."
Leonardo writes a name and an address on a cigarette paper and leaves it in the girl’s hands.
"He’s a well-known person. Are you sure that was the licence plate?"
"I have it printed in my mind. He ran over me there, on that crosswalk, and took off. But before he disappeared into the dark, I read that plate well."
"And why didn't you report it to the police?"
"I did, of course, after I woke up from the coma. They checked and told me that maybe I had seen or remembered incorrectly, there was no sign related to the accident on the bodywork. And of course, in the meantime the guy would have had plenty of time to get the car cleaned up! And anyway I haven't trusted the police for a long time."
Only a slight accent betrays the Slavic origin of the girl, named Anna. She came from Serbia with her parents over sixteen years ago, when she was a little girl of just over four years old. To make ends meet, her father had immediately induced his wife into prostitution. The woman was young and attractive and the neighborhood lent itself well to that kind of "business". But one evening Anna's father, dead drunk, started accusing his wife of not putting down all her earnings for the family but was keeping something for her vanities, for clothes, shoes, for stockings. The quarrel ended with a knife wound. Anna saw her father run away, never to return, while her mother lay on the floor bleeding abundantly. The little girl knew how to type emergency numbers on the cell phone. She managed to compose 118 and get help in time. But the police never tracked down her father, who had probably returned to his home country somehow. Her mom did her best with makeshift jobs as a cleaning lady or caregiver for the elderly, no longer selling her body, but earning much less. Anna was 14 years old when her mother, tired of life, made the insane gesture. She went down into the street in front of the house, poured gasoline on herself and set herself on fire. A horrible end, of which fortunately Anna was not a direct witness. Returning from school, she saw a kind of blackened puppet on the sidewalk, as if someone had burned a large doll, and she struggled to understand that this was the body of her poor mother. There was a crowd of curious people around that still smoking ember, but no one who had found the courage to try to help her. And the whole thing had happened in broad daylight.
Anna was entrusted to a family home, but she ran away immediately, went to live on the street and starting doing the same job that as a child she had seen her mother do, with the result of earning enough to be able to eat. Often, when her "customers" saw that she was little more than a child, or they ran off for fear of being accused of pedophilia, or rewarded her with a maximum of 20 Euros, after all she was a little girl, she needed little to live on, just enough to buy food.
"Go to a lawyer, take him that name and he will see that you receive compensation," Leonardo advises her.
The girl shakes her head.
"I don’t have any money to give to a lawyer. That bastard has to pay and I'll do everything myself, you can be certain. This leg will never be like it was before. The femur was crushed under the wheels of that huge SUV. Even though the doctors did their best, the leg is a few centimeters shorter than the other, and what’s more it continues to hurt me really a lot. Right at the moment when I had been able to make a change in my life. I had got through the selections and was going to be taken on as a model. I had a job and a career ahead of me, and now no one will call me for a fashion show or a commercial, I will have to go back to walking the street to survive."
Without rebutting further, Leonardo leaves the girl another paper and a little tobacco enough to make another cigarette and goes away. He crosses the street and walks past Veronica, the policewoman who is keeping an eye on him.
"It's not that it’s not obvious that you’re stalking me. When are you going to understand that I’m a good-living guy? I need to take you to bed to make you understand. You’d enjoy being with me and you’d look for me for other reasons."
"Quit this messing around. Rather, I clearly saw you pass the "dose" to that girl. Are you dealing now?"
"I told you, I'm clean," Leonardo replies, raising his arms. "You can search me if you want, if I were a drug dealer I’d have other doses on me, isn’t that right, Commissioner?"
Veronica pats him down and, apart from his wallet, pulls tobacco, papers, lighter and a package of Marlboro out of his pockets.
"How the hell can you make cigarettes with this junk? I don’t know!" The woman pulls a Marlboro out of the pack and lights it, then returns everything to the man. “Sooner or later I’ll catch you red-handed, and I’ll make you take a nice holiday in a pleasant hamlet of Ancona called Montacuto. In the cooler, in a residence with bars on the windows and surrounded by a very high fence."
"I think I'll get you to a bedroom first and make love to you. You're ripe for it," Leonardo replies, skillfully making a cigarette with the tobacco and lighting it as Veronica looked at him terrified. They each go their own way, while Anna remains sitting under the canopy of the bus stop for a long time. At a certain point she gets up and, one step at a time, with the calm required by her uncertain gait, she arrives at the address Leonardo gave her. She studies the house, studies its occupants and the actions and times of her revenge are already outlined in her mind.
The next day, Anna is already ready for action. She had made the Molotov cocktail following the instructions to the letter: it will work. The adrenaline circulating in her blood is at such high levels that she forgets any pain. It's three o'clock in the morning and there is not a living soul around. She leaves the crutch near the fence of the house, and very laboriously climbs over it. The ladder she had spotted in the garden must have been used to prune the trees, but what matters is that it has the right height to get to the windows of the first floor. Anna leans it under what she has understood to be the bedroom window. The guy sleeps with his wife and they have a baby of a few months who is sleeping in the adjoining room. The night before, at exactly a quarter past three, the bedside light had come on and the woman had gone to the child’s room after he had woken up and wanted the bottle. Anna calculated that the same thing could be repeated every night at about the same time. She climbs the rungs of the ladder, one by one, with a little effort, but not too much. The roller shutter is lowered only halfway. At the right moment, a jab with an elbow to break the glass and launch of the Molotov. It will be hell.
That bastard will die in the same way as my poor mom. He deserves it! If the wife is quick, she will get her ass to safety with the little one. As for me, I will wait here quietly for them to come and arrest me, as it is now...
At the top of that ladder, Anna puts a cigarette in her mouth, the lighter in one hand, the incendiary bomb in the other. Punctually, the light turns on and the woman gets up. The flame of the lighter flickers, reaches the cigarette, but can’t reach the fuse of the rudimentary device.
No, I cannot be the cause of the fact that that child will grow up like me, without a father, and with a mother destroyed by pain.
Her leg is starting to hurt again and it is difficult to go down the ladder, put it back in its place, climb over the fence and recover the crutch, but she succeeds.
Life for Anna continues to go by as usual, her economic resources are increasingly less, and every night she finds herself eating her sandwich sitting on the usual bench. She calls to the white dog, who deviates from his trajectory to come and get his dose of cuddles, dragging his master behind him. The dog lays o his back with his paws in the air, to get little tickles on his belly, which he likes so much. The vet smiles at Anna, she looks into his eyes, two green eyes that instill confidence.
"In this note is the name and address of the person who made me like this. Do what you like with it, I have neither money nor credibility to go and ask for compensation."
In silence, the man takes the note, puts it in his pocket and walks away. A few days later, the girl receives in the mail a check for 300,000 euro signed by the guy who ran over her at the time and ran away like a coward. In the envelope a note: I hope this is enough. Please do not report me. A scandal would ruin me forever.
Leonardo, as usual, suddenly appears and sits on the bench next to the girl.
"Cigarette?" he asks.
"No, thank you. I quit smoking. I don't like the taste of tobacco in my mouth anymore."
"How did it go? Have you made good use of my information?"
"Thanks to you and another angel, I now have the money to go to America and undergo an operation that will bring my leg back to its right length. I have calculated that what with the trip, the stay and expenses for the clinic I’ll need exactly 300,000 Euros. Everything I have, but when I return to Italy I will be ready to face a new life."
"Good luck, then!"
Leonardo crosses the street and arrives beside the policewoman lurking there. Unexpectedly, he brings his face closer to her face and brushes her lips. Caught off guard, Veronica accepts the kiss and runs her tongue around his tongue for a few moments. Then, she suddenly stiffens and pulls away just far enough let rip a resounding slap directed at Leonardo's cheek.
"You're crazy!" she exclaims. Then, following the thread of her reasoning as a policewoman: "Did the whore refuse the dose you offered her today? But anyway, remember, get it well into your head: sooner or later I’ll catch you red-handed."
"You’d be better off taking a look around and seeing who the real criminals are, that are certainly not lacking in this area. But why should I tell you what to do? As it is, it’s by following me that you catch criminals. Sooner or later I’ll send you the bill, my dear!"
He brings his mouth closer to Veronica's again and, this time, and not by mistake, she indulges in a long kiss. When she opens his eyes again, Leonardo has vanished into the dark, as only he is able to do.
VERONICA…
It’s dark. While honest citizens are enjoying a well-deserved rest in the tranquility of their apartments, in some areas of the city people are living an alternative life. They are the homeless, drug addicts, drunks, prostitutes, viados, immigrants who are more or less illegal and characters without a permanent job or fixed address. In Jesi the beating heart of this type of society is the area between the railway station and the bus terminal, and the sinkholes of this human scum, able to welcome it without vomiting it, are represented by the al fresco areas of the bar in Piazzale Porta Valle and the benches under the trees that are almost totally in darkness, where the light from the street lamps barely arrives or not at all. It is not uncommon to see a drunken prostitute there, sprawled on a bench with her bare butt on display, in the same position she was in after the encounter with her last client, who has perhaps left her like that without even paying her.
It is well past midnight and the shutter of the pizzeria bar has been halfway down for over half an hour. Veronica, forty-year-old Police Superintendent, a glorious past as an Olympic fencing champion, is leaning against the side of her black sedan. The smoke of the cigarette joins her condensed breath and the fog of the late autumn night that softens the silhouettes of people and things. A black prostitute approaches her.
"For 20 Euro I can give you an orgasm, better than a man."
"Piss off!" she replies, showing the badge. "You're lucky that I’m busy tonight, otherwise you’d be spending the night in a cell."
"Give me a cigarette, then."
Veronica throws away the butt, searches in her pockets, lights the last of the pack, and then crumples it and throws on the ground.
"As you can see, I don't have any more. Get lost!" and emphasizes these last words by blowing smoke straight into her face and staring at her with the fiercest look she is able to muster.
One of the few working street lamps turns on and off intermittently, almost as if it is controlled by a strange clockwork mechanism; the light bulb has arrived at the end of the line but it will be some time before a municipality worker comes by to replace it. Taking advantage of the darkness and fog, the gypsy with long gray hair and wide-brimmed hat unloads his bladder behind the silhouette of a parked bus, then returns under the awning of the bar, drains his glass and starts staggering towards his bicycle. Three turns of the pedals and he falls head over heels to the ground, gets up and is lost in the fog. Every evening, no one knows if he manages to get to his caravan unharmed, down at the bottom of the industrial area, but the following day he turns up punctually to beg for money, alcohol and cigarettes.
Veronica pulls her leather jacket tighter to protect herself from the cold and damp. And suddenly, her attention is now focused on the two figures that are coming out from under the shutter of the bar. Leonardo, engineer Leonardo Albini, is in the company of a tall amber-skinned girl, miniskirt, long legs and breasts so puffed up with hormones and silicone that they could explode at any moment.
The beanpole, rather than a she, is still a he. He has something dangling between his legs for sure! Veronica thinks, but is not too interested in it. The one who interests her is Leonardo, that construction engineer with the pretense of becoming a private investigator. And of course, he’s always in contact with the local underworld, who better than him could nab criminals?
Leonardo says goodbye to the viado, who goes off in the direction of Via Setificio, while he heads towards Porta Valle and into the historic center. Veronica follows him trying to stay at a distance, but the man disappears into the meanders of the alleyways.
A man with a strong Eastern European accent approaches her from behind and triggers a switchblade.
"It’s not a good idea for a woman to wander around here alone!"
Not at all intimidated, the policewoman performs a pirouette and, thanks to a well-aimed kick, disarms her potential aggressor.
"And not for a man either, especially if he harasses the wrong people!"
And for that night it’s done, she has lost sight of her target, she hasn’t been able to verify his connivance and complicity with the criminals of the southern area of Jesi, which was once considered a quiet provincial town. Might just as well go back to the base. With the certainty that sooner or later Leonardo will slip up. Pure fantasy? Or maybe she is secretly and unknowingly in love with him, who knows!
The local newspapers the next day, a day characterized by a pale sun peeping through the blanket of fog, report the news of yet another crime
Jesi. In the Porta Valle area a viado was attacked and stabbed. Promptly rescued by Engineer Albini, who happened to be passing by, he will need 10 days to recover. But where is the Police?
CATERINA…
On a freezing day in mid-December I presented myself to the Chief Police Commissioner of Ancona. Dr. Spanò was my old boss. I had returned to the base, but I was there just to deliver the envelope containing my request for maternity leave.
"I’m happy to have you back with us, Dr. Ruggeri. It’s better to have a precious individual like you here in the area on maternity leave, rather than knowing you were assigned to a Police District so far away. Thanks to your new rank, I have a special job in store for you. We don’t have a Homicide Section here in the Marche. Seeing how you fared in the investigation up in Triora, and because of the considerable increase in crime in our areas too, I’ve decided to open the Section here in Ancona, which will cover the entire region, and you’ll be the one running it, assisted by Inspector Santinelli.
No, it’s not possible! I said to myself. Him in my way again. But wasn't he supposed to manage the Dog Lovers Field Office in my place after I left? Has he managed to ruin all the work I did in ten years in such a short time? Is the Dog Unit in disarray and is the Field Office about toclose down?
I didn’t even have the courage to ask my superior for enlightenment and he, in any case, interpreting my hidden thoughts, gave me some assurances.
"Don't worry, your beloved Dog Lovers Field Office is doing great even without you, but Inspector Santinelli was not able to manage it. During the summer, three dogs fell ill with leishmaniasis and two handlers asked to be transferred because of incompatibility with the Inspector. So, before arriving at the irreparable, I’ve replaced Santinelli with a very valid colleague, Chief Inspector Della Debbia, who moved here from Nettuno."
I breathed a sigh of relief and continued to listen to what else he had to tell me.
"But, getting back to us, I was telling you that this new section, with regional validity, will be devoted to investigations into murders and missing persons, and I really believe that you are the most suitable person to head it. Without neglecting your commitments as a future new mother, you can come when you feel like it to organize the office, and when you tell me you’re ready, we’ll get started."
I was enthusiastic, and ideas regarding the organization of the new team were already running through my mind.
"That’s all good, but do I really have to have Inspector Santinelli with me?"
"It seems you’re the only one who has always been able to handle him! I’d have to say yes!"
I nodded, not exactly satisfied with the prospect, and was about to hold out my hand to my superior to say goodbye.
"One last thing, Commissioner. In the coming days we’ll have some specialists here at headquarters who are going to hold a course on Body Language and Prosemics which should be very interesting. If you’d like to participate, even if you’re on leave, I think you could learn some really important notions in the management of interrogations."
Even though I knew that Stefano would not be at all happy, I accepted the invitation, as the course dealt with topics that had always fascinated me: to be able to understand what someone was thinking, whether they’re lying or telling the truth, from their behavior. They were notions that, once learned and combined with my new perceptive abilities, would make me an infallible detective.
So, despite my baby bump and despite the protests from my partner, I began to spend most of my time at Police Headquarters, partly to follow the course on Body Language, and partly to organize my new office and my new team. Inspector Santinelli followed me in a helpful and compliant way, and all things considered I could not complain about him. I couldn't ask to have a Lamborghini like the one we had in Imperia, but I did manage to have a computer like the one that had helped us so much in the Triora investigation mounted on an Alfa 159. I gave Santinelli a little instruction on using it and I also had him enroll in an advanced course in computer technology, although I was convinced that we couldn’t expect too much from him.
Christmas passed, New Year's Eve passed, and Carnival passed too. Time went by quickly, with many commitments, and my tummy was increasingly cumbersome; the little girl kicked inside it and made her presence felt more and more. So at the beginning of March, despite Mauro's predictions, I decided it was time to calm down, retire in good order and wait for the event.
But, so as not to detach myself from work completely, I installed a PC at home with a webcam and a powerful broadband connection. I quickly learned to start video chats with my friends, especially with Clara and Mauro, and long video conferences with Santinelli, to check how things were going in my new office. We now had a good organization. We had set up our section in a small wing of Police Headquarters, a few rooms, four in all, but equipped with all the most modern technologies. The interrogation room was acoustically isolated and equipped with video cameras and microphones that allowed you to follow what was happening in there from a remote room. My office was occupied by Santinelli for the moment, and I had obliged him to always keep the computer on with the webcam active so that I could check on his work. The team consisted of three other young and really smart colleagues. Superintendent Roberta Gualandi was the youngest, very determined and passionate about the job she had chosen. Inspector Andrea Rosati was good with computers for both online research and field work. The Elite Operative Gaetano Perrotta of Calabrian origin, who had only recently moved to Ancona, was extremely intelligent, a very attentive observer and had made good use of the notions learned during the course on Body Language and Prosemics. We were ready to take o any investigation and I found myself following our first case, concerning a missing boy, from my PC monitor, something that, until a few days before I would never have imagined.
One morning the parents of a nineteen-year-old boy named Thomas Vindici had shown up at Police Headquarters, worried because the young man had left home the night before and they had not heard from him since. His cell phone was turned off, and no one knew what had happened to it. I followed what Inspector Santinelli told them very attentively, hoping not to have to intervene with my voice coming from the PC speakers.
"The boy is of age and has only been missing from home since last night. I feel it’s a bit early to make a missing persons report. Have you tried at his friends’ homes or in the places he usually frequents?" began Santinelli.
"Yes, he's not at the home of any of the friends we know. He had an argument with his girlfriend last night at our house, and she too doesn’t know where he may have gone and what’s more she has clammed up and doesn’t even want to tell us the reason for their quarrel. Thomas slammed the door on the way out. Samantha, as the girl is called, tried to follow him but he got onto the scooter and disappeared before she could talk to him," said the boy's mother, while the father remained rather taciturn and let his wife do the talking.
"Well, a kids’ thing, maybe he went and had a few too many drinks so he could forget the quarrel and when he gets over the bender he’ll find his way home."
"No, Thomas is not the type, he doesn't drink alcohol, he's a good kid, and this is the first time he's behaved like this," his mother insisted.
"Let's do this, without making a missing persons report for now, let's start some low key investigation. Get me a recent picture of your son and I'll pass it on to the patrol cars. Rosati, you try to track the boy's cell phone. And you, Roberta, go to their house and take a peek at the PC, especially e-mail, saved Messenger conversations, in short, everything that could be useful for us to understand where this boy might be holed up. In addition, try to question the girl, Samantha, tactfully but don’t go too hard, she’s a minor."
All things considered, it seemed that Santinelli was managing quite well and I breathed a sigh of relief. At that juncture I couldn’t have done better and what he had proposed made sense.
A few hours later, the two colleagues appeared in the office again. Rosati had no reassuring news, Thomas' cell phone was not traceable, he had certainly removed battery and SIM card, which made it clear that the boy was not naïve. A bit more news came from Roberta.
"Nothing interesting in the boy’s PC partition. I also took a look at his Facebook profile, and I didn’t find anything there either. What I did notice, though, and it triggered an alarm bell in my head, is that on the user folders reserved for Mr. Vindici, the boy's father, there is one with the contents password protected. It was not difficult for me to bypass the protection and access the contents of the folder, where a series of images depicting women smoking have been saved, more than one thousand four hundred of them."
"Pornographic photos?" I intervened electronically, drawing the attention of my colleagues in the office.
"Not really. Yes, some nude images, but always and only young women, all beautiful and with cigarettes in their hands or mouths. Many are close-ups of these women, often inhaling or exhaling smoke, or enveloped by a bluish or whitish cloud."
"He's a fetishist. In all likelihood, relations with his wife are very sporadic or absent and he finds sexual satisfaction in front of these images. But so far, nothing wrong, I’d say, other than the portrait of a family that’s a bit 'disintegrated’."
"And you're right, commissioner. I tried to find out very discreetly what the relationship was between Giorgio Vindici and his wife Elisabetta. Basically they’ve broken up but are still living together; they sleep in separate rooms and haven’t had relations with each other for a long time. Five or six years ago, the woman was very sick and underwent major surgery, a liver transplant. The two hadn’t been getting along very well for some time, and the woman quickly took the opportunity to say that, since she was doing an immunosuppressive therapy, which was essential so as not to reject the transplanted organ, she had to stay isolated so as not to risk even catching a cold. She moved to another room at that time and no longer slept with her husband. He has never felt he could leave her and, out of respect, fear or because he is shy, he has never even found himself a lover. And therefore he must have found his natural release in front of the images he has saved on his PC."
"A somewhat complex personality. When it’s like that, there is also little dialogue in the family. But all this is of little help to us in finding Thomas."
"Agreed. Except that I discovered that the girl, Samantha, in addition to being rebellious, nonconformist and transgressive, is a heavy smoker for the age she is. How would you relate these things to the father’s little habit?"
"Do you think that Mr. Giorgio hasn’t been able to resist and has bothered the girl?"
"I think so. And I think maybe his son caught him in the act. And that's why he left slamming the door."
"Before we jump to hasty conclusions, I’d like to examine the profiles of Giorgio and Samantha for myself. We can call Mr. Vindici in. I want Perrotta to question him and I want to be at the interrogation. As for the girl, Roberta, go and have a chat with her in her home. Take your handheld and activate the video call so that I can do an analysis of her personality and hear what she has to say."
About three quarters of an hour later, Mr. Vindici was taken into the interrogation room. Perrotta left him alone for quite a while so he could study his attitudes in the video camera, based on what we had learned at the Body Language course. I could see the interrogation room on half of the screen of my PC and my office on the other half, currently occupied by Santinelli. Mr. Giorgio was apprehensive, very nervous, he was squeezing his eyes, lifting his eyelids, fiddling with whatever he had at hand, starting with his watch, and continuing with any object he found in the room. But what struck me most was that his feet were always facing the exit door or the only window in the room, meaning towards an escape route, as they had taught us at the course. He couldn't wait to get out of there. Perrotta skillfully kept him on edge for about twenty minutes, and then entered the room.
"Don’t worry, put yourself at ease, we will not tell your wife anything of what you say in here. The walls are soundproofed, no one is listening to us. Do you want a glass of water?" There was a fresh water dispenser in the room. Gaetano filled a plastic cup and handed it to him. "Well, there are some interesting photos on your PC. Shall we talk about it?"
Giorgio began to sweat and mumbled some kind of excuse.
"There is nothing illegal. They’re not pornographic photos and there are no minors in them. I'm not a pedophile."
"Of course, of course. Everyone has their own passions. I like to play soccer, you like women who smoke. By the way, do you want a cigarette?"
"N... no. I don't smoke."
"Oh really? So, how do you explain this passion?"
"I don't know, I can’t understand it myself either. The human psyche is sometimes uncontrollable. The fact is that when I see a woman smoking, especially when she uses the flame of a lighter or a match to light the cigarette, I can't help getting excited. It's been happening to me since I was a boy. I don't know what to do about it."
