Deadly Caffè E-Book

Enrico Palumbo

• Herausgeber: BoD - Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 203

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Spring is just beginning in Liguria. Caponnetto's initial delight about his part in catching a murderer with Commissario Bonfatti is short-lived. Just as he is about to turn his attention back to the Osteria Il Golfo and its attractive tenant Giulia, his past starts to catch up with him. A prison escape in Munich alerts both the Bavarian State Criminal Police as well as law enforcement in Italy. Between zuppa and dolce, Caponnetto is forced to admit that although his time as a Carabiniere is officially at an end, it is far from over.

Leseprobe

The Book

Spring is just beginning in Liguria. Caponnetto's initial delight about his part in catching a murderer with Commissario Bonfatti is short-lived. Just as he is about to turn his attention back to the Osteria Il Golfo and its attractive tenant Giulia, his past starts to catch up with him.

A prison escape in Munich alerts both the Bavarian State Criminal Police as well as law enforcement in Italy. Between zuppa and dolce, Caponnetto is forced to admit that although his time as a Carabiniere is officially at an end, it is far from over.

The Author

Enrico Palumbo was born in 1972 in Karlsruhe, Germany, and studied in Munich and Venice. He started his career as a journalist for German and Italian news agencies and media before moving into business. After working in various places, such as Prague, Milan and Zurich, he returned to Karlsruhe, where he has been living since 2019. "Deadly Caffè" is his second novel in the murder mystery series about the retired Carabiniere Giuseppe Caponnetto.

This novel's story and characters are fictitious. Certain longstanding institutions, agencies, and public offices are mentioned, but the characters involved are wholly imaginary.

Chi nasce tondo non può morire quadrato.

Those born round cannot die square.

Italian saying

Table of Contents

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

Chapter XVII

EPILOGUE

I

Caponnetto was up early. He could hear the birds singing. The air smelled of spring.

If you don't live by the sea and only spend a few days there once in a while, you might not notice that the sea smells different in spring. It's fresh, invigorating, and less salty than in winter. Sometimes it even smells slightly earthy, with a sweet note reminiscent of flowers. This is due to the algae, which multiply as temperatures begin to rise, and to the spring breezes, which transport their different fragrances from the sea to the coast.

Spring is Caponnetto's time. It's the season when he has always felt particularly inspired, full of energy and drive.

Three weeks ago, he had got on his new sports bike early in the morning for the first time. Since then, he had been leaving his apartment at the port of Savona every day at around 8 am. This morning routine was good for him.

But today, he started his tour earlier than usual. That was the only reason the men in the black SUV missed him. They would wait for him – that was their job.

After his accident on the Via Aurelia eight months ago, Caponnetto had gone through various phases. At first, in hospital, he was in denial about how his injuries would affect his service with the Carabinieri. Then, with his artificial knee, came the certainty that things would never be the same again. And with this realisation came anger: 'Why me? Why now?'

Back then, he was convinced that he'd simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He wanted to believe that the collision on the coastal road between Finale Ligure and Noli had been a tragic hit-and-run accident.

During the rehabilitation phase, Caponnetto thought about how he could continue his work investigating the Agromafia despite his limited fitness for duty. He came to the conclusion that he didn't want to do things by halves and decided to quit altogether. Then, when his Zia Antonella died unexpectedly, his grief for his aunt eclipsed his grief for his old life.

On the very day of his retirement, Caponnetto had become involved in a new case with his friend Commissario Bonfatti. Together they had solved the murder of an old man. They hadn't expected to be showered with praise, but neither had they expected to be mired in controversy.

Caponnetto didn't want to find himself in such a situation again. Especially not now in spring. He had ideas, he had plans. His life was almost perfect – if it hadn't been for the matter with Stefania. But there was always something!

*

Commissario Bonfatti was sitting behind his desk on the third floor of the Questura in Savona, leafing through the local section of La Stampa in a leisurely fashion. There was currently no case of public interest in his jurisdiction. So today he hoped that his own face wouldn't be jumping out at him from the newspaper again. He usually found the photos of himself rather unflattering – not to mention the text accompanying them.

For several days after the 'Serra case', the local papers had gleefully exploited the story: The front page article 'Ex-Carabiniere saves failed police investigation' was followed by one with the headline 'Police solve murder case – thanks to the Carabinieri!' Finally, on the third day, they printed the question, 'Who's better: the police or the Carabinieri?' There were no facts in the article and the only quotes were from a street survey.

As if there wasn't already enough controversy about the cooperation between the Polizia di Stato and the Carabinieri!

Today, the local section was dominated by a report on the archaeological excavations in Albisola. The provincial administration had raised money from an EU fund to resume work at a country villa dating back to Roman times.

The villa was one of the archaeological remains from the Alba Docilia period. This ancient city stood on the site of the current municipality of Albisola Superiore and was located at an important junction of the roads connecting Rome with the Ligurian coast and later with southern Gaul. This strategic location made Alba Docilia an important centre for trade and transport. It was also during this time that the tradition of ceramics and pottery in the region had its origins. To this day, Albisola is an important centre for ceramics in Italy.

The city council and local businesses in Albisola hoped that the excavations would generate additional tourism from the other provinces of Liguria and Piedmont. Advertisements had been running for weeks, and both local and national media were reporting on the preparations for the excavations.

Somehow they even managed to lure a television team from RAI, Italy's state broadcasting company, to the small coastal town, who had even reported about it on their third program, before the ground-breaking ceremony, which was to be held today.

Malicious gossips claimed that the niece of one of the Albisola city council members had a friend whose brother-in-law played paddle in Rome with a man whose brother was a porter at RAI who knew an editor who worked for TG3, the regional news channel on the third Italian television channel. The editor then announced in a conference with the regional studios that he'd like to broadcast more indepth reports on Italy's ancient roots. This was how they managed to get the topic on the agenda of the TG3 regional editorial office in Genoa.

'They should go ahead and report more about cultural matters instead of focussing on murder and manslaughter,' thought Bonfatti. His mobile phone rang. The Commissario looked at the display and answered the call.

"Buon giorno, Dottore Hering," Bonfatti was glad that the Kriminalhauptkommissar or Detective Chief Superintendent of the Bavarian State Criminal Police spoke Italian so well, because his German was nonexistent and his English was more than a little rusty.

"Hello, old chap. How's our friend?"

"May I be frank?"

"Yes, please."

"He's gone back into his shell."

“And that means?”

“He pushed me away, just like he did with you. I’ve tried to talk to him several times since you called me, but he's stubborn. Caponnetto says he’s not interested in the matter, he wants to move on, blah blah blah ...”

“And what do you think?”

“I have no idea why he’s behaving like this. But although my hands are tied, I have, of course, tried to do something within my limited power.”

"I'm dying to know what it is," said Hering, leaning back in his chair and looking out of his Munich office window at the Marsstrasse.

"Well, as I said, unfortunately, my hands are tied. The reporting on our investigation into the murder case, ..." Bonfatti hesitated.

"Yes, I heard about it," said Hering dryly. "Caponnetto sent me a copy of the newspaper ..."

"The one with the photo where I look so stupid?" asked the Commissario.

Hering cleared his throat. "Yes, I believe there was a photo of you in the newspaper too."

"And it's now hanging on the wall in your office in Munich next to the one of your Minister-President?" asked Bonfatti, laughing.

"No, old chap, I passed the newspaper on. I understood the message that Caponnetto was sending me with it," replied Hering.

"You mean that he's getting more attention than he'd like and he wants to be left alone?" asked Bonfatti.

"Yes," retorted Hering. "Incidentally, I passed the newspaper on to Simone Noce."

Simone Noce, known as U Muto, 'The Mute', had been convicted several times in absentia and had been on the run for over ten years. But during cross-border investigations, U Muto had been unexpectedly caught by investigators from the Bavarian State Criminal Police Office a few weeks ago when an officer recognised him by his voice during a wiretapping operation. Noce had undergone thyroid surgery in his early 30s. The surgeon had inadvertently injured one of the muscles that control the larynx. Since then, Noce's voice had been impaired and he rarely spoke. Instead, he communicated with gestures or wrote small notes. When he did say something, his voice sounded like a whisper, sometimes like a croak.

The surgeon who had operated on Noce disappeared a few weeks after the surgery. A few days later, the doctor was found strangled in the trunk of his car – with his tongue cut out.

Noce's physical disability had not hindered his rise in the criminal organisation. On the contrary, U Muto had become the embodiment of a saying popular among Mafiosi: 'Those who know, do not speak; those who speak, do not know.'

"Two days ago I questioned Noce again when I brought him the newspaper," said Hering.

Bonfatti blinked. "And?" he asked, although he could guess the answer.

"Well, what do you think? He lived up to his nickname," replied Hering.

"Chi sa, non parla; chi parla, non sa," said the Commissario, quoting the saying in question.

"Yes, exactly," confirmed Hering, and told Bonfatti how, at the end of the interrogation, he had played Noce the phone call in which the assassination attempt on Caponnetto was mentioned: 'The Capitano has received our message. He won't cause us any more trouble, and if he does, we know where to find him.'

The words could be heard loud and clear. It wasn't Noce who had spoken, but a man whose identity the police didn't yet know. Hering had asked Noce about the identity of the man who had allegedly ordered the assassination of Caponnetto. But U Muto had only raised his chin slightly and clicked his tongue gently against the roof of his mouth, which produced a sharp, dismissive tone.

"Very well, Signor Noce. I understand," Hering had replied, taking the copy of La Stampa out of his pocket.

"You can keep the newspaper anyway. Consider it a greeting from your homeland because you won't be seeing it again anytime soon."

That had been two days ago. Now, just as Hering and Bonfatti were talking about him, Simone Noce was planning his escape. U Muto wanted – no, had to – get to Italy and take care of a very urgent matter.

*

The younger of the two men in the black SUV drummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel.

"We should call and say what's going on."

"Relax," replied the man in the passenger seat, "he's probably just late today. You'll see, he'll be out soon."

"And if not?"

"Then we can always call in ten minutes."

He had barely finished the sentence when his mobile rang. The two men looked at each other, casting their eyes around the inside of the SUV as if they expected to see a microphone.

“Don’t tell me you've lost him?!” barked the man through the hands-free system. The two of them sat up in their seats. They cast their eyes around again. They stayed silent, embarrassed.

“No answer is also an answer. I thought so! Drive to Pietra Ligure immediately. If he doesn’t show up there by midday today, go back to Savona. And call me as soon as you have visual contact again. Understood?”

The man hung up without waiting for an answer.

“Drive,” said the passenger, “and keep your mouth shut!”

The driver pressed the start button and drove the SUV towards the Autostrada dei Fiori.

II

Most days Caponnetto would head east from Savona in the morning. He would cycle towards the rising sun, up over the ridge, past the hospital, Ospedale San Paolo, and back to the coastal road towards Albisola. Piazza Matteotti was his turning point.

At the Pilar Bar, he would drink a cappuccino, eat a brioche and leaf through the newspapers. He would then take the shorter route back to Savona along the Via Aurelia.

In the days when he was still on active duty, he would never have allowed himself such routines – routines make people predictable. And people who are predictable make easy targets.

Today he had got up earlier because he was planning a longer trip in the opposite direction. His destination was Pietra Ligure. He wanted to check on the house he inherited from his aunt, where he sometimes stayed the night, and which was partly still being renovated.

For lunch, he was planning to go to the Osteria Il Golfo, which was also part of his late aunt's estate. The thought of seeing the tenant of the osteria made him a little uneasy. But avoiding Giulia wasn't a long-term solution.

He was dreading meeting the attractive woman again, as it reminded him of what a fool he'd been. Just when he and Giulia were about to become closer, he had allowed Stefania to hijack him.

His ex-girlfriend had more or less unexpectedly turned up on his doorstep. If only he'd listened to his gut feeling that evening and prepared the guest bed for Stefania! But things had turned out differently, and since then he had been feeling guilty towards Giulia, although this was completely unnecessary. Nothing whatsoever had happened between him and Giulia. They had seen each other several times at the osteria, which bound them together as tenant and landlord. With each encounter, Giulia had been a little friendlier towards him. He had made an effort to get to know her better and was open about his interest in her. But then Stefania had come to visit from Milan and everything was turned upside down. He had believed that the night could have heralded a new beginning with her. However, Stefania surprised him that morning, before breakfast, with the news that she would be moving to the European Public Prosecutor's Office in Luxembourg.

Caponnetto remembered that Stefania had often spoken about the EPPO, which investigates serious cross-border financial crimes, particularly VAT and subsidy fraud against the EU. However, the fact that Stefania now wanted to move to Luxembourg had surprised him and was also a clear signal to Caponnetto that she didn't want to commit herself – at least not to him.

To make matters worse, they had an argument before they parted. Once again, it was due to a misunderstanding between them. Caponnetto had pulled a face when Stefania told him that she was moving to Luxembourg – partly out of disappointment, but also because he was somewhat frustrated with himself.

Stefania had interpreted his reaction differently. She thought he disapproved of her involvement with the EPPO because she was the one who would now be dealing with the Agromafia and she would outshine him with her successes.

Contrary to popular belief, the adulteration of olive oil and other forms of label fraud are just one area of the Agromafia's crimes. Much greater profits are made by subsidy-fraud and food-smuggling. Stefania would certainly be dealing with the Agromafia at the EPPO, but nothing was further from Caponnetto's mind than such rivalries and comparisons. Especially since he had officially retired. The fact that Stefania still hadn't realised this, still didn't understand him, annoyed Caponnetto more than her accusation that he didn't wish her success. So they parted ways before Caponnetto could tell her about the text message he had received the previous evening.

'Need to talk. It's about your accident,' was what the message said.

Caponnetto hadn't reacted at first. Later, after the argument and Stefania had left, he had felt empty and lonely.

It was in this state of mind that Caponnetto had picked up his mobile phone that morning and tapped out a reply to Kriminalhauptkommissar Manfred Hering's text message, which sounded much more dismissive than intended.

*

The woman with red hair rolled up the mat and tightened the elastic band. She looked at her smartwatch and wondered how much time she had left. 'I'll wash my hair tomorrow,' she thought, taking off her top on the way to the bathroom.

In front of the mirror, she looked at her abs with satisfaction and then gently stroked the slightly hardened area below her collarbone with her left index finger. She put her thumb on it and moved it in a circular motion from the inside to the outside with light pressure. Finally, she turned to the side and looked first at her biceps, then at her shoulder blade. The scar where the bullet had entered appeared far less severe than the one on her back where it had exited. The wound there had been larger and the scar was more difficult to care for.

Her bullet-proof vest had stopped two bullets: one at the level of her navel and one slightly above the base of her breastbone. The third bullet had hit her on the outer edge of the vest next to the Velcro fastener – luckily it was a clean shot right through.

She took off her leggings and underpants and got into the shower. They were expecting her in one hour. Then she would get a new assignment – finally!

*

"Avanti“, called Commissario Bonfatti, and Francesca Nobile entered his office.

"Buon giorno, Ispettore! How was the training course in Bologna?“

"Buon di, Commissario! It was very interesting. We spent a whole day talking about mozzarella – how the Agromafia uses illegal growth hormones to increase the milk production of buffalos, mixes their milk with normal cow's milk or milk powder to cut costs, and speeds up the coagulation process with lime."

"That sounds pretty disgusting," remarked her colleague Gianni Sestri, who had stepped in behind her and pulled a face.

"Don't tell me that Nobile spoiled your appetite, Sestri!" teased Bonfatti. Nobile stepped aside so that Bonfatti and Sestri could look at each other directly.

"Uh, no, Signor Commissario. But since you're asking, I'd like to take a break now."

"Is that why you've come to see me?" asked Bonfatti, who had noticed that Sestri was holding a piece of paper in his hand. He pointed twice with the index finger of his right hand in the direction of Sestri's left, then turned his wrist and, with his index finger, beckoned Sestri to come over. Sestri looked first at Nobile, then back at the Commissario and took two steps forward.

"I'd really like to take a short break and get something to eat ..."

"The piece of paper, Sestri. What does it say?" asked Bonfatti impatiently.

“A body was found during the excavations in Albisola," Sestri stammered, "but it's a very old one. So there’s no rush!”

“How old?” asked Nobile.

“Well, between 20 and 25 years old.”

“But what are you talking about, Agente? 25 years isn’t old,” exclaimed Bonfatti indignantly.

“I think he means the body has been dead for 20 years or more, right?” interjected Nobile.

Sestri nodded vigorously.

“That's right. The people at the site said the body must have been there for over 20 years.”

“Ah, and that’s why you think we could have a caffè and eat a focaccia before we leave?” asked Bonfatti.

“Yes, exactly,” said Sestri, relieved.

The young policeman’s face beamed until he noticed Nobile’s piercing gaze. His colleague shook her head almost imperceptibly.

"Well, I'll go and get the car, Signor Commissario," said Sestri sheepishly.

Bonfatti turned to Nobile: "And you're coming with me!"

*

In Pietra Ligure, the black SUV drove along Viale Europa towards Via S. Francesco. The two men knew they couldn't park directly in front of Caponnetto's house. They would be noticed immediately. So they looked for a side street or a building that would provide good cover while allowing them to see Caponnetto should he approach his house.

"Well, I'm telling you, we're just wasting our time here," grumbled the older of the two men.

"Why should Caponnetto cycle to Pietra Ligure today of all days when he usually heads off in the other direction?"

The man at the wheel looked at his fingernails and shook his head.

"Pasquale, you think too much. And you talk too much. We've been told to wait in Pietra, so we'll wait in Pietra. Basta!"

“Still, I'd like to know why the old man is so sure that we should wait here today and not somewhere else.”

“He has his sources. We don’t need to know any more. I don't, and you don't either. Hai capito?”

“Yes, of course I understand,” growled Pasquale, “don’t ask questions, just follow orders.”

*

Caponnetto had first noticed the SUV a few days ago in Savona. The model itself wasn't unusual; vehicles of this type were often seen on the streets, but the tinted windows had caught his attention. Then he thought he recognised the car in the car park of the old train station in Albisola and had memorised the license plate. Next time he, would check whether it was the same car, should there be a next time.

During all his years in the service of the Carabinieri, he had become accustomed to taking note of his surroundings, paying attention to any irregularities and deviations. And to anything that didn't fit in, such as a motorcyclist wearing a helmet in Palermo. What would be viewed as a normal safety measure elsewhere might spell danger on the streets of Palermo or Naples, if a killer was hiding behind the helmet. Hardly anyone ever wore a helmet there, so a rider who suddenly appeared wearing one might well be a threat.

Even a vehicle you see several times over the course of a few days might spell danger. With this in mind, it was a lucky coincidence for Caponnetto that a Fiat 500 cut him off at the intersection of Via Soccorso and Via S. Francesco.

To avoid a collision, Caponnetto turned right into Via Soccorso on his sports bike instead of continuing straight ahead. He planned to take two left turns and come back onto Via S. Francesco just above the playground.

However, just as he was turning into Via Alberti, he saw a black SUV at the end of the street. Caponnetto turned around immediately.

*

The metal fence that had been erected to keep overly curious visitors to the excavations at a distance now formed a natural barrier for securing the crime scene. This facilitated the work of the law enforcement officers who were the first to arrive on the scene after it had been reported by the archaeologists.

When they recognised Bonfatti, the men lifted the metal fence to one side to let the Commissario into the area behind the barrier.

A skeleton, mostly uncovered, lay under a white tent. Cristina Donati knelt next to it and was taking photos.

"Signor Commissario," she said in greeting and winked at Bonfatti. He smiled back and replied: "And, Signora Pathologist, what have you got for me today?"