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- Herausgeber: Cesario Picca
- Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
- Sprache: Englisch
A femicide thriller
In this compelling thriller set in South Italy a rich and fascinating tourist from Bologna is brutally murdered while she enjoys her holidays in Tremiti Isles. It is up to the investigators of the Operative Department of Foggia to find out who is the author of this heinous femicide. The Salento reporter Rosario Saru Santacroce decided to switch off for a week enjoying the fantastic atmosphere of the Tremiti Islands.
But that fiery July reserves him a surprise. For the umpteenth time, his holidays are shaken by that work that engulfs all the energies.
A real reporter is destined (almost) never to unplug, and that is probably why he gets entangled in the murder. For this reason Saru takes tourist clothes off to wear those of the journalist in search of news. The painstaking work of the carabinieri will allow revealing the author of the crime and the motive. It will thus be discovered that the charming and enigmatic tourist from Bologna was killed by the man who had sworn to love her. And to find the killer will be another woman, the prosecutor who coordinates the investigation.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019
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Murder in the Tremiti Isles
di Cesario Picca
Murder in the Tremiti Isles
Copyright @ 2010 Cesario Picca
All rights reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Cover Design by Miss Mae
To my beloved parents
Antonia and Francesco
Contents
Chapter 1 – Why you?
Chapter 2 – Holiday finished
Chapter 3 - The scoop
Chapter 4 – The long night
Chapter 5 – The interrogation
Chapter 6 – Breakfast at the bar
Chapter 7 - An unsatisfied desire
Chapter 8 – A mind boggling meal
Chapter 9 – Memory of that night
Chapter 10 – The press conference
Chapter 11 – Tempted by the restaurateur
Chapter 12 – Investigated for murder
Chapter 13 – Silence, all intercepted
Chapter 14 – The first cracks
Chapter 15 – The same pointless discussion
Chapter 16 - The meeting with Lucia Benni
Chapter 17 – End of the story
Chapter 18 – The interview
Chapter 19 – Another investigated
Chapter 20 – Saru under investigation
Chapter 21 – Private conversation
Chapter 22 – The phantom of the headless man
Chapter 23 – Backstage and motives
Chapter 24 – The deal with the detectives
Chapter 25 – An article on demand
Chapter 26 – Getaway attempt
Chapter 27 – Attempted suicide
Chapter 28 – Inspections in Bologna
Chapter 29 – Dinner with the enemy
Chapter 30 – Confrontation between detectives
Chapter 31 – Relaxing day at the sea
Chapter 32 – They called him ‘three percent’
Chapter 33 – A friend in Termoli
Chapter 34 - The turning point
The author
Keep in touch
Read Gioco mortale - delitto nel mondo della trasgressione
Il saggio Senza Bavaglio – L’evoluzione del concetto di libertà di stampa
Read Il dio danzante - delitto nel Salento
Broken lives
L'intrigo - guanti puri e senza macchia
Leggi Il filo rosso - delitto sui colli
Read Cento giorni
Punti di riferimento
Tavola dei Contenuti - "TOC"
Copertina
Pagina del Titolo
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Appendice
Prologo
Appendice
Pagina del Copyright
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Bibliografia
Bibliografia
Appendice
Capitolo
Chapter 1 – Why you?
On the little terrace overlooking the sea of the Tremiti Islands, together with the few clients, there was a Persian cat that seemed very keen on the food served by Michelina who was probably very generous with him, but like a great panderer never missed a chance to rub himself on people’s legs to get something extra. As a starter Rosario asked some peppered mussels, which he loved, while his partner ordered a Palamito, a very tasty fish used as a starter and served with vinaigrette, capers and parsley. It was ten o’clock when they sat down and they had an hour to have dinner before the last ferry of the evening left to bring them back.
«Good god, it’s already late. If we keep going like this we’ll have to consider the idea of swimming back to the island if we want to go home» she said looking at the Cartier watch she wore on her wrist and never took off, even at night. Pretty and enterprising, she was sure of herself and she knew she had the perfect weapons to convince some fisherman to bring them back. They started the game of seduction that they both enjoyed making them feel complicit and on the same wavelength. Lightly touching him with her foot under cover of the tablecloth, she reminded him that anyone would face even the roughest sea to make her happy while he started to feel uncomfortable in his immaculate linen suit from which his dark skin showed up his well-muscled body thanks to years of weight-lifting and jogging. With a wink and a joke they came to a kind of deal that they would take that decision only as a last resort, maybe if they had eaten so much that they were incapable of swimming to the other side.
The mussels and the Palamito, with the gentle sound of the sea in the background, were a perfect opening and everything made them think that the sea-food risotto that they had both ordered was going to be the best completion of their dinner. As usual Saru urged the young waitress to insist with the chef for big servings and she smiled letting him know that she had understood.
«Actually we have a female chef and she’s very strict, but I’ll tell her anyway» she said heading towards the kitchen after writing down their order. Saru liked her self-confidence which contrasted with her seemingly colorless personality and he was looking forward to tasting a good rice dish, one of his favorites.
Unfortunately, with great regret, he changed his mind when he saw the tiny serving, not even nicely presented, which instead of the colorful dish he had been expecting with the flavorsome red sauce from Puglia, the full-blooded shrimps, the cherry clams and the shimmer of green parsley, was a dead pink which destroyed his appetite after the first mouthful. Because of his disappointment he had the sad feeling that the chef, as if to taunt him, had served him up a frozen ready-made risotto. An insult when you are eating almost on the sea where at any moment a fish could jump straight onto your plate from the water and even more for someone like him always ready to taste his beloved Pugliese food. Unwillingly he decided to eat that abomination anyway going back in his mind to the lunch of the day before which had been a celebration for his demanding palate. Mauro had offered him a big juicy dish of spaghetti with a delicious sauce made with lobster, scampi, red snapper and monkfish, all washed down with an excellent local wine.
As he was raising his fork with effort, wondering whether he should make a sarcastic comment to the waitress about the dish or go directly to the kitchen for a showdown with the chef, a terrible scream sent a shudder down his spine, making him almost choke on his mouthful. To calm the coughing he quickly drank a glass of mineral water, then glanced at his companion mopping the tears to focus on her questioning look. After a few seconds he looked around meeting the puzzled eyes of the other clients on the terrace then suddenly stood up.
«Where are you going?» asked Elisa, worried.
«I’ll go and see what happened» answered Saru.
«But where?».
«I don’t know, I think it’s down that side, that’s what it sounded like» he said pointing with his right hand to a place that was more hypothetical than real.
«What do you care about it? We aren’t in Bologna. We’re on vacation, you don’t have to work» she tried to say to him, but it was enough to look into his eyes to see the change of mood as if something from the depths of his soul had taken possession of him and, even if he was on vacation, had forced him to put himself in the reporter’s shoes looking for a story for the news.
Saru quickly grabbed some money from his pocket and leaving it on the table pausing to ask her to pay since he didn’t want to eat any more of the tasteless risotto. He left only after drinking a glass of water not because he was thirsty, but to take the nauseating taste of the risotto out of his mouth and headed towards the stairs leading to the fortress. He felt like he had to go somewhere, but he didn’t know where and he started running following his instinct. He crossed the street with the palms and reached Santa Maria Church flanked by the walls on the right and ending with the high square tower. There was no one around and passing by he quickly crossed himself then, running across the courtyard on the right of the Romanic church, he reached the archeological area now deep in darkness.
He already knew the way because he had walked along it earlier, but in the darkness everything seemed different and while his instinct started to give way to his reason, he started thinking he might have acted too quickly in an unknown situation without asking for help or calling the police. Now he had got himself into that dead-end street, with no torch, he started feeling the fear and he didn’t know what to do anymore. Inside himself, the belief that he’d made an almighty mistake started to grow, confirmed by the fact that none of the guests had followed him and not even some curious local came to have a look at least to give him a bit of courage. He was out of breath and, as he was used to running three times per week, he thought he was going to have a panic attack, something that had never happened before.
Following his instinct, he started to look around, above all behind him. In the archeologic area there was dead silence and you couldn’t even hear a mosquito humming. He tried to take some random steps forward and he regretted it when suddenly a seagull, perhaps scared by something, took off flying right in front of his face. He couldn’t control himself and he let out a scream that made his throat sore for a couple of days. At the same time he heard the sound of something falling in the water, but he didn’t think much about it, it was probably a stone falling from the rock. When he started to feel better again he kept going.
He could hear the sound of the sea, the only sound around him, and he thought he was not far from the Tower of the Knights of San Nicola below which there was the big opening in the rock which let the sea in and separated the castle from the San Nicola cliff almost isolating it so that side was not vulnerable to an enemy attack. His heart started beating like crazy and he kept looking around and behind him without knowing what he could defend himself with. He thought it was quite likely that some mugger might attack him so he kneeled and he picked up a stone off the ground and at that exact moment he heard groans getting louder and louder. He headed towards the vague noises, admittedly frightened of the unknown, but at the same time was empowered by a strength which pushed him to keep going to understand what had happened without even thinking of stopping or calling for help on his mobile. Waiting for someone would have meant wasting time and maybe those moments could be precious for someone in trouble. He was not running anymore but walking quickly, trying to focus his eyes and so, in the darkness, he made out something white moving.
For a few moments his blood froze and he swung around fearing for his safety. He was scared stiff, but the curiosity to find out what was happening was stronger than his fear. He continued for a couple of meters and, turning back to look behind him, he stumbled and tripped over someone in white pants lying on the floor. He had fallen onto a woman, the only thing he was sure about at that moment given the softness of her skin and her breasts. He leaned on the ground to take his weight off the body and as he was getting up he felt his hands wet and sticky and rubbing them on his body to dry them he realized that some parts of his clothes were wet too. Then he noticed the sugary and nauseating smell of fresh blood and this awareness hit him like a violent punch in the stomach. He just had the time to turn his head and vomit. At that moment he was certain that he was in the center of a tragic event even if he could not understand what had happened to the woman and the darkness didn’t help him.
«Say something, what happened to you? Can you talk?» he peered at the body of the woman who was uttering feeble moans, perhaps more to gain courage himself than to really help her. He was hoping that at any moment someone would arrive to help him and that thought seemed to calm his heart, hammering like a compressor, giving him a moment of lucidity to think about what to do next.
A burst of heat overcame him suddenly and he started to sweat, but despite being so tense he took his cellphone from his pocket and started jabbing wildly at the keys which kept the screen on and shed some light on the scene. It was enough for him to see the woman, lying on her right side, slightly doubled up, her shoulders towards him, and weakly begging for help before falling silent. Saru put two fingers of his right hand on her neck, he couldn’t feel a heart-beat and he saw there was nothing left to do. The smell of blood was really strong, it filled his nostrils and was suffocating his mind, he rolled the woman over and thanks to the light he could just make out that the wound was in her stomach and from the size of the bloodstain he understood that it was wide or very deep. Suddenly the anxiety made way for rationality and he convinced himself that the best thing was to leave everything like it was, as now he knew that she was dead and it was essential not to disturb the crime scene even though he had stumbled into it by pure chance. He felt her blood everywhere, even on his face and hair and he didn’t understand how he could have got so dirty.
He kept looking around desperately without seeing anyone and it seemed such an inexplicable situation as at the restaurant there were people and that scream could also have been heard in other parts of the island. As the minutes passed and his eyes started to get used to the darkness and his nose to the odor of blood, he was able to perceive a fragrance he seemed to have smelled before in other circumstances. A sudden and inexplicable presentiment made him bend over the dead woman to smell her perfume and to try to get a better look at her face in the light of his cellphone.
«Noooo…Lucia!» he groaned with his heart beating again more violently than before while he started to feel a kind of horror taking possession of him, traversing in him like a shiver full of unanswered questions. He didn’t think about anything else for a few moments knowing that she would never hear his words nor perhaps sense the feelings that were churning up his soul.
«Why you, Lucia?».
Chapter 2 – Holiday finished
The slow but relentless march of time marked the last hours of his vacation, amidst the colors and perfumes of the Tremiti Isles. Just seven days’ break from work after quite a demanding period was not much, but Rosario Santacroce had enjoyed them anyway as he always loved to do. He lived every moment life gave him as if it was his last and as he always liked to see the glass half full he didn’t feel any regret about the vacation coming to an end. He was satisfied with how long his break had been. He had also been lucky with his choice of company, with the same tastes as himself, giving an additional sense of satisfaction to that momentary escape from daily life.
Lying in the sun, with a good book by his side, he spent his days easing down on the rocks like a lizard, crunching from time to time on some local fruit or tarallini. The calories were always lying in wait favored by a more relaxed lifestyle than usual, a potential threat that he tried to ward off with regular sport in contrast with all the hours he was able to spend lying on a rock without showing any sign of muscle soreness. The time to go back to his beloved job seemed to be rushing towards him at the speed of a gazelle being chased by a lion, but that didn’t bother him much happy as he was to have discovered a new place and curious about the idea of going back to his office so tanned that he would make his colleagues and friends green with envy as usual. His skin, very smooth and already dark, had reached a color that was almost black and as silky as though the sun had caressed him in admiration instead of burning him.
From time to time he too had to plunge into the crystal-clear water of the sea of Puglia, a pleasant way to survive the searing heat. The cool sensation on his skin took Saru’s mind back to his childhood spent in Salento, a time when he wasn’t so keen on the heat and couldn’t understand the tourists that used to spend the days chilling at the beach. When he thought about it he had to smile because at that time he would have considered himself crazy able as he was now to stay out in the burning sun without doing a thing. His memories linked to the sea were made of dives from the cliff, puckered skin from swimming for so long, the screams of joy of all the other boys who like him were always in the water. That night Saru and his girlfriend planned to go to the white island of San Nicola, taking the ferry that left from the dock of San Domino.
The idea was to visit the fortress and then eat at the “Artista”, the restaurant managed by Michelina who had been advised the previous day by Mauro, the owner of the boat on which they had spent the whole day exploring the island, swimming and enjoying the delicious fish that Mauro had caught the night before. At first, looking at the brochure, it had looked like one of those mediocre organized tours that are usually offered to tourists to admire the coast of any island. On the sheet of A4 paper an “unforgettable day” was advertised and the owner of the bar facing the little square dedicated to Sandro Pertini, the president who exulted at the World Cup Finals in Spain, went all out to assure them of the truth of what was advertised.
They boarded feeling rather doubtful because of some similar trips that had disappointed them in the past, but this time they had to admit that the €50 per person was a bargain considering the quality of the treatment received. The vacation had been quite spartan and to conclude it with a flourish they decided to treat themselves to a romantic dinner in one of the best restaurants of the place. But to be able to get there in time they had to come back early from the beach, a bit reluctantly, as that was their last day at the sea. A quick shower and then down to the port to reach the island before sunset. They reached the jetty on foot, walking down a narrow curving street, not more than a kilometer long, with the last part sloping down toward the sea, filling their eyes and touching their heart with the spectacle offered by nature.
«Wonderful» uttered the girl admiring the scene before her, a view she had never seen as she used to return at that time from the beach and she had always taken a different street to get back to her hotel. For a few minutes they stood staring at the island of San Nicola, lit up by the sun, a tongue of white earth surrounded by the crystal clear azure sea and covered in greenery like a bouquet created by an expert florist asked to decorate a room for an unforgettable gala event.
«If I didn’t have you, I would have had to come here more often to see something so beautiful» Saru murmured in her ear with the certainty of someone who is good at playing with words to get what he wants. And in fact he got the kiss he was after but didn’t want to ask for in homage to the seduction game that made them such well-matched accomplices. That exchange of emotions had aroused them to the point that they almost forgot about the ferry, the excursion and the dinner they had planned. Only the deafening noise of a pickup truck and the trail of unbreathable black smoke it left in its wake brought them back to reality, making them realise that that was not the best place to continue with their embrace.
«I think we’d better follow our plan otherwise we’ll never reach the other island if we keep this up» said Saru to the girl thanks to the bit of blood that was still able to reach his head and not follow the main surge flowing downwards. When they got to the port, they boarded a little boat that brought them to their destination in a couple of minutes along with the other tourists who had probably had the same idea. They had booked a table on the terrace to admire the sea.
That evening there were not many people and the sound of the waves lapping at the water’s edge reached them softly.
«These islands are very nice, worth visiting. The only thing that puzzles me a bit is the people who I find rather cold, not very cheerful, hard to talk to, not very “Salentine”. Salento’s actually just another story thanks to the people so warm and welcoming, always ready to help you and make you feel at home» he observed.
«I’d say that’s a good reason to take me there. You talk about it so often and in such glowing terms you’re making me curious. Actually everyone speaks well of it, but I’ve never been there and I’d like to discover it and having met you is one more reason to go there» she said.
«I think I’ll certainly be there by the end of August. It’s months since I went and I’d like to see my parents who are always asking me to come. I think if they met you they’d probably be happy».
«Are you officially inviting me to come to your parents’ place? Aren’t you scared of risking your reputation as a confirmed bachelor? Watch out, I’m starting to like you and if you keep bringing me on holiday in enchanting places like this I might even fall in love» she said with an attitude that was half serious and half joking, actually hiding her real thoughts.
«Do I look scared to you?» he answered readily without giving anything away and leaving the doors open to any possible solution. He liked the girl a lot and he wasn’t against the idea of building a long lasting relationship. It was a long time since he had experienced that strong feeling that can make your heart leap and give you butterflies in the stomach when your thoughts turn to that person who at that moment has the foremost place in everything you do.
«I still can’t work out when you’re joking and when you’re serious. Are you like that even when you’re working?» she asked. During that vacation she had admitted to herself that she wanted to get to know this person who had appeared in her messed-up life like a tornado with his strangeness, his desire for happiness, his way of dealing with problems and situations that could be very difficult. That man, who sometimes was a bit too anti-conformist and thought outside the box, was capable of surprising and for this reason he often came out winning. Many times she stopped to think how he could survive in a world so full of sharks with his frankness and his childish honesty.
«Normally I try to downplay situations because I don’t like grumpy people and the ones that seem to carry the whole weight of the world on their shoulders. Life, which I think should always be lived, often presents unpleasant situations and if we also add some extra stuff we make it even more complicated. That’s why I always try to laugh and smile at the persons I meet. I think a smile makes everything easier and it doesn’t cost anything except in the morning when you went to bed just a couple of hours before the alarm rang and you don’t even want to look at yourself in the mirror».
«Are you ever serious? I mean, when you go on a crime scene what do you do? You laugh?».
«Oh my God. In those cases there’s not so much to laugh about, but at the same time if you’re serious you can’t solve the situation either. You don’t start screaming and you don’t make a drama out of it, as a sign of respect for what happened, but if you can have a chat with your colleagues and with the investigators and maybe laugh a bit you sure do help to make the situation better and make the day a bit more positive. Can you imagine if all day we were so morose as if it were our funeral? It would be too difficult».
«How do you get on with your colleagues? What kind of relationship do you have with them? Are you against one another?».
«Sometimes we meet after work, but it depends on the personal relationship that develops in the sense that having the same job, in my field, doesn’t help because daily stress just ruins relationships and makes them complicated. Anyway there are not many other journalists from my region, but with a lot of carabinieri and policemen I like to organize a dinner or a night out for a drink. We talk, they help me understand the situations better and anyway when we’re eating everything gets less difficult, especially for them because they have so much pressure about not talking to the press. Sure, we have a lot of fun because you have to have a laugh and feel good otherwise why would we go out?».
Elisa was very curious to get to know Saru, but that evening he didn’t really want to talk about himself and he tried to change the subject switching his attention to a small fishing boat that was just passing out towards the open sea, another night at work for the men on board and who knows how long they had been doing the job that forced them to do at night what other people normally did during the day.
«I would like to go fishing, too. But not at night like them and for sure not being forced to come back with something that will pay for their work».
«Have you ever done it?».
«I used to go with my friends every Sunday morning and we were good at it. We had fun and we brought home lots of beautiful fresh fish. The only satisfaction after getting up at such an ungodly hour» he explained thinking about all the times he had gone fishing. For a moment he went back to his Salento and to those mornings when his childhood friends threw the boat on the water and pushed out to the open sea looking for fish. Sometimes it was very good and they came home with lots of fish, but other times the current was so strong that the fish wouldn’t bite and their day was boring and they regretted not staying in bed. Her smooth hand touching him lightly and her smile brought him back to reality.
«We’d better order otherwise it will get late and we might not get any dinner» she said focusing on the menu. Elisa had already tried to enter his private world and she was curious to know more about his relationships at work which surely went deeper than what he had told her, to learn his jokes better and his way of thinking, typical of the area he came from, often used to downplay things or to solve complicated situations. Smiling to himself, Saru imagined the comments of his friends if they could have seen him.
They would certainly have placed Elisa at the end of a long list of names and they would have given the relationship a few days used as they were to always seeing him with someone different, all girlfriends as he said. Saru had dated lots of women and they all seemed perfect for a long future together, able to giving him the physical and mental involvement which he believed indispensable. His best friend Ercole, a lawyer he had met through work and with whom he had a deep bond, never tired of repeating that he had to stop getting into relationships with married women. That it was not a good idea to start a relationship with someone that already had a family or someone much older than him because, knowing him, falling in love was not only dangerous because he could get hurt, but also because he could run pointless risks.
And he thought about that time when he had to hide in the closet because the husband (who had come home earlier than they thought) almost caught him. He thought about the fear he had felt that summer afternoon and that now made him laugh. He was really young then and he would probably not have been smart enough to get away with it considering that at that time he was not as good at using words as he was now when words were his daily bread. He swore to himself that he would never be found at a married woman’s place with the risk of having to give explanations to an angry husband. The passion for the other half of the sky was too important for him. He loved women, something that linked him to the famous Casanova whom he greatly admired and never thought he might resemble.
The wait seemed longer than it really was, but maybe it was just the desire to go back to the hotel and spend another night of wild passion. As often happened, he had met Elisa thanks to his job and their relationship was favored by the circumstances as at that moment they were both looking for a relationship which could give their life more edge. An overwhelming passion which would let them get out of situations they had been carrying on for too long partly out of habit and partly out of fear of hurting their partner even though the story was clearly wearing out. A brunette, not tall but slim, with a body like a model, a beautiful face maybe even more glowing thanks to something between the charming and the wicked which a careful look could not help noticing in her eyes. A “femme fatale” was the description given by a common friend who for this reason decided to stay away from her so as not to get hurt even though he liked her a lot. Saru knew about this but it didn’t scare him, in fact it encouraged him to court her given his propensity to risk, a necessary way to give more flavor to life in his opinion.
Elisa had been in politics for many years, sitting on the opposition benches in the Provincial Council and she had met Saru while he was reporting on a raid by the Guardia di Finanza at Palazzo Malvezzi, the seat of the Province of Bologna, when some councilors had allegedly falsified their expenses and wasted public money. Despite their time problems and their former partners who resisted the break-up, their relationship turned out to be quite deep and explosive and that vacation was proving even more useful for them to realize how similar they were, above all in bed. And who knows, maybe she really was the right woman for Saru who had reached the forty-mark, still single and maybe a bit too old and set in his ways to build a classic family.
He didn’t dislike the idea of having Elisa next to him forever, even though he was horrified by the idea of seeing the same person in his house for more than a week, a woman who could occupy his hard-won and jealously-guarded space. For him his house was like an untouched and untouchable temple where he could take off the titanium armor which protected him day and night and which, like everyone, he built and reinforced to cope with the situations life gave him often without a break. Taking off that armor when he entered his temple was a kind of esoteric ritual which allowed him to find himself without any limit, any mediation, any faking. Entering that temple was possible but the presence was not allowed for more than one night which could be repeated if the feeling was very strong, but certainly not within the next 24 hours as Saru could not wear his armor at home for so long.
Chapter 3 - The scoop
«It’s Rosario».
«What happened? What do you want at this hour cufiu?1» answered his colleague who had been forced to go to work wearing long trousers, shoes and socks and who at that moment was looking forward to an ice cold beer with other colleagues, the only break of the evening from the heat that had oppressed the city all day long.
«Did you already close?».
«Almost, why?».
«Who’s in charge tonight?».
«The editor in chief is here. Can you tell me what the hell’s happened?»
«Sorry, you’re right... I’m in the middle of a murder…».
«Come on, don’t goof around with me. I just turned on all the stations and they didn’t say anything and the radio seems dead. Everything’s quiet» his colleague interrupted him thinking of one of Saru’s frequent jokes.
«It’s the truth, fuck! I’m right in the middle of it!».
«You talking bullshit? Did you get too much sun today?» he continued as if to downplay it because he was starting to think that his evening with his mates could go belly up.
«I swear it. I’m here with a dead woman at my feet. She’s been killed…».
«Did you call the police?» his colleague asked him not knowing what else he could say so absorbed by the anxiety of the speaker.
«No way, no one’s come here, I’m all alone but anyway listen, call the boss and tell him to leave some space because here we have some big news: a woman from Bologna has been killed…».
«Tell me you’re not joking» demanded again his colleague.
«Shit, how do I have to say it? Leave some space, we have to open the paper with it and considering what time it is I think our opponents will get a hell of a shock tomorrow. As long as we don’t do what we did with the Villa Spada rape».
Despite of the confusion of the moment, Saru’s thoughts inexplicably started racing opening one of the many drawers of his mind in which he used to file away memories, images, emotions and words which he then took out in case of necessity. Some years before, a 16-year-old girl was raped in one of the city parks while she was making out with her boyfriend and around them people were spending a few hours in the afternoon relaxing under the shade of the trees away from the sudden heat that had gripped the city. At the time Saru was on vacation in the Eolian Islands and despite this fact, he and his colleague had been able to receive confirmation of the event. But they were then stopped by the boss who for some strange reason didn’t want to publish the news which for two weeks kept the public’s attention glued to the matter, and not only locally, as the news had a national resonance.
«What happened? Tell me about it».
«I’ll explain briefly…» tried to explain Saru who could not finish his sentence as he was interrupted by a loud threatening voice.
«Stop where you are! Leave the girl and step back» a carabiniere shouted pointing his gun and a powerful torch full onto him, almost blinding him.
«What’s going on?» his colleague kept shouting on the other end of the phone without getting an answer.
«Keep calm with that gun» Saru shouted putting his hands in the air.
«Step back!» repeated the military man.
«I understand, I’m doing it, but keep calm. Watch out with that gun, I’m a reporter, just take it easy. I don’t have anything to do with the story. I was just trying to help the lady, calm down». Fearing an over-reaction, Saru moved slowly and in the meanwhile his colleague was still listening to what was happening through the phone which had luckily been left on.
«What did you do to the woman, you bastard?» careless of his words another military man who had just arrived on the spot exclaimed sharply, out of breath because of the steep road and the run.
«Me, nothing, are you kidding? I heard the screaming and I came to see what had happened. That’s it». At that moment he could feel the regret rising in his throat for not having minded his own business and he tried to shield himself from the two torches with his arm, trying at the same time to work out whether his girlfriend was at least coming to get him out of that mess he had got himself into. He kept wondering why no nosey on-lookers had reached the place yet as normally they always arrive before the police. And it also didn’t seem normal to him that none of the restaurant guests had been curious enough to come as they could have helped him out giving evidence for him.
«Let him go! What are you doing, are you going crazy?» her voice came through the dark like a stroke of luck that reminded him of the voice of the lady on the TomTom helping him to find his way after he’d been lost for half an hour in the darkest woods.
«Finally! It took you long enough to arrive. Did you lose your way?» Saru called with the relief of someone who has been saved at the 11th hour.
«Who are you?» asked the carabiniere.
«I’m the girlfriend of the man you are pointing that gun at. Don’t make any hasty moves, he doesn’t have anything to do with it, he was with me until a few moments ago and all the people at the restaurant can testify to that» the girl tried to explain in an angelic tone, panting after the steep road she had had to walk up to get there.
Saru’s colleague meanwhile was still listening and it seemed like it was one of those radio dramas with the voices and sound-effects that could convey invisible sensations. Standing next to him, in front of the speakerphone, there was now the editor in chief who disregarding the tragic aspects was already excited about the scoop they would be able to print.
«The lady’s right, I don’t know that man, but for sure he was at the restaurant when we heard the scream. I wouldn’t know if she was still alive when he got here» chipped in a guy who had been at a neighboring table. He looked like a teacher, one of those fussy teachers that only by the grace of God can manage to keep a woman by their side for their entire life even though they’re so boring and annoying. The man talked, taking no notice of the fact that no one had asked him anything, especially not those inappropriate clarifications which were about to drive Saru crazy if only the look on Elisa’s face hadn’t restrained him, an expression of horror about the inappropriateness of those words which could have made the situation even more complicated.
«Why are you covered in blood if you have nothing to do with it?» the man in uniform asked Saru to a murmur from the growing crowd of onlookers who were getting more and more curious as they followed the scene.
«Well, you’d better ask him. I hope he has an explanation» the man that had spoken up before said in his boring pedantic way, staring at him inquiringly.
«Why are you covered in blood?» asked the carabiniere repeating the unspoken question that was already floating amongst the spectators who, despite the drama, gave the impression of enjoying what was happening in front of them.
With a determined expression that matched his tone of voice, Saru retorted: «I’ll tell you if you stop pointing that damn gun at me».
«Ok, but keep your hands visible».
«But I don’t have anything».
«Show me your right hand».
«It’s my cellphone» he opened the palm of his hand revealing the small phone he used for communicating but trying not to show the shining screen for fear that he would realize it was turned on. «I was trying to call someone for help when you arrived».
«Move away from the body and go over to the side. Don’t do anything stupid and stay here. You can’t leave because we have to question you and take your statement».
«I swear I don’t know anything. I only know that her name was Lucia Benni. I think she was 40 and she comes from Bologna. A Bolognese tourist on vacation at the Tremiti». No one had asked him to talk and he knew very well that in these cases the best thing to do was to shut up, but at that moment it was the only way that came to his mind to let his colleague know what had happened. And as he said it, he was very careful to pronounce the name clearly and give him the time to take notes so it would be easy to do some research in the archive or on the Net to find out who the dead woman was and write the article which, together, they would check before sending it to print.
«How come you know that?» chorused the marshal and his girlfriend each for different reasons.
«Lady, excuse me. I am the only one that asks the questions» said the carabiniere to Elisa whose expression betrayed a sense of rage mixed with jealousy towards Saru who was, in her unquestionable opinion, badly inclined to become over-familiar with unknown females.
«Why do you have blood on you?»
«I stumbled while I was running in the darkness and I landed on her. It looks like a slaughterhouse here, there’s blood everywhere and I vomited».
«How do you know her?» the girlfriend asked butting in again getting more and more irritated.
«She was on the boat with us yesterday, that pretty woman sunbathing on the prow and we also had a chat seeing we had to spend the whole day together» Saru continued loudly, full of particulars, not to justify himself but to give his colleague more details.
«How do you know her surname?» his girlfriend asking again ignoring the marshal’s order, utterly consumed with jealousy and determined to get her suspicions confirmed rather than listening to the explanations of that man who to her eyes seemed so attractive and likeable but also very roguish.
«Madam, I’ve already said that I am the one that asks the questions here» the military man repeated already intending to ask his colleague to get her to step back behind the red and white tape being used by the other carabiniere to isolate the area and keep away all the onlookers who were gathering to keep the crime scene intact.
«We talked to her all day long and we had lunch together and I think it’s quite normal that she said her name then you went for a swim and she told me that she was from Bologna».
«What a coincidence, you talked about it just when I was swimming» the woman insisted.
«Do you really think it’s a good idea to make a jealous scene right now when I have a dead body at my feet with a guy in front of me threatening to shoot me at any moment?».
«Where do you come from?» asked the marshal, head of the San Domino carabinieri station.
«I’m from Lecce but I live in Bologna».
«I realized you weren’t a foreigner» he said in Saru’s own dialect, softening his tone of voice with a relaxed gesture which helped for a while to ease the anxiety of the moment.
«And where are you from?» asked the reporter encouraged by that less aggressive attitude keen to have more contact clutching that little straw of linguistic communion that had been offered. In other circumstances he would have kept up a kind of diffidence towards the stranger, but this time he didn’t because he had the feeling he had nothing to fear.
«I’m from Poggiardo2» the marshal said in dialect.
«Great, man. I’m happy to have met you. But now we have a big problem to solve and I need some time to clean off this blood. My clothes are stuck to my skin, I can’t get this nauseating sweet smell out of my nostrils and I’ve also got to get the news to my paper».
Saru immediately regretted his last words as he had the impression he had said too much because of the feeling of familiarity, something that sometimes happened to him and that made him mad with himself.
«Compatriot. With all respect, I cannot let you go. Sorry but you’re the only suspect at the moment. I’m sorry but I have to save my ass, if they know I’ve let you go they’ll make me shovel shit until I retire and I still don’t know when that will be. I’m sure you understand that I don’t want this. I also have to protect my career if I don’t want to end up with a miserable pension».
«Sorry, you’re right. What’s your name?» Saru, having drawn a breath, thought of taking another tack.
«Giuseppe».
«Listen Pippi3. You’re right, and I’m not going to make a row. You can do everything you want, but you have to let me call the newspaper. I’m not going anywhere and I’ll tell you what you want. But let me call, I have to think about my career, too ».
«Ok, do the article, but don’t move. In a while the members of the Operative department will be here».
«Listen, what’s your surname?».
«Why?».
«So I can write it in the newspaper».
«No, forget it. I don’t want any trouble» the marshal told him, but he seemed tickled by the idea of appearing on the front page of a newspaper, in the crime news read all over the country, so the reporter exaggerated.
«What trouble? I’ll just say that the San Domino carabinieri are doing the investigations under the command of marshal…».
«Forget it for the moment. Really. I don’t want any trouble. Maybe tomorrow you’ll write it, but not today. You know the hierarchy don’t like it ». Reason and duty prevailed and didn’t leave space for any negotiation which could make his image stand out, even if he would have been proud of it, after so many years in obscurity doing precious work for the local people who turned to him knowing that he would find a common sense solution if the law wasn’t on their side.
«Ok. I’ll just write about the Station and the department. Ok?».
«Ok, but listen, don’t say too much».
«Why? In any case what I know won’t interfere with the inquiries».
In part resigned – because with a reporter you can’t really do much – and in part concerned about what had happened and the work that had to be done, the marshal broke off the private conversation to go back to his role as a public official.
«You’re right. But I still haven’t taken your statement».
«And what difference does it make? What I write comes out tomorrow in the paper. And tonight I’ll tell you everything and sign the statement».
«Ok, do what you want, but don’t move from here».
«Don’t tell me that you met someone from Salento? You guys really are everywhere…» commented the colleague who had been listening to everything on the phone and who didn’t really understand a lot of what the two Salentinians had said. In the newsroom he often heard Saru’s calls in broad Salentine dialect, but listening live to him seemed like a new thing, he could feel the substantial difference like when you let yourself be convinced to try out a frozen pizza when you’re used to always going to the pizzeria with a wood-oven beneath your place. And from his point of view, Saru delighted in looking at the perplexed expressions on the faces of his colleagues who liked to listen to him from time to time catching the meaning of the odd word. For everyone Saru’s calls in dialect represented a kind of cabaret, a break in the boredom of a tiring day.
«It was wonderful to listen to you, but I didn’t understand anything. What the fuck did you say?».
«It’s too long to explain it now. The language classes, even if they’re so fundamental to learn the culture of Magna Grecia, will have to be for another time. Now let’s think about the article. Did you already talk to the boss?».
«Everything all right. The fliers are already printed…».
«What did you write?».
«Bolognese tourist killed at the Tremiti Isles».
«Perfect. How did you organize the space?».
«We moved a politics page and the crime news goes to the third page. I deleted some things I had written and I left half a page as opening. Is that ok?».
«Ok».
After writing the news and closing the paper with a bombshell, the two colleagues went on talking for a few minutes. Saru still had a bit of time before the investigators from the Operation department from Foggia and the magistrate of the day, who were reaching the island in a helicopter, would put the screws on him with the usual ritual of questioning. In the end he was the only witness or anyway he was the one who had arrived first on the crime scene, but he could also be a suspect. In these cases, actually, nothing is ever left to chance and even the hypotheses that are theoretically or logically the weirdest are never completely discarded without careful investigations. In other words, for Saru it was not really an easy situation because while it was true that he was at the restaurant when he heard the woman’s scream, it could not be ruled out at the moment that he may have killed her.
«Can you explain how you ended up in this story» asked his colleague understandably interested.
Saru explained that everything had happened while he was eating, but he knew that the colleague would go further with his probing.
«How did you know her?».
«Fuck, let it go! I’m desperate. What a bummer!».
«Come on, tell me» insisted his colleague who had already understood, but he preferred to hear it from the person directly involved.
«I met her yesterday when we were doing the boat tour around the island. It was love at first sight. We looked into each other’s eyes and we liked each other…».
By saying this he knew he had aroused the curiosity of his pal who now wanted to know more details about the meeting which sounded hot.
«And?» the colleague interrupted him, jealous of the ability of Saru to build interpersonal relationships with an ease that he didn’t have.
«And what?».
«What did you do?».
«What do you want me to do? I was with my girlfriend and she also had company…».
The scene of the previous day passed before his eyes like a movie and he felt his heart skip a beat. He saw the vivacious smiling woman questioning him curious to know more about his work as a reporter. He saw the mischievous expression on her face when he mentioned a woman he had met at an after-dinner party who they discovered was a mutual friend that, by a strange twist of fate, had talked to her a lot about a reporter with whom she was having a passionate affair. Lucia could not be sure that the guy in the story was him, but Saru had craftily made her believe it throwing into the conversation from time to time two or three hints like decoys for the fish which the woman had snapped up hungrily. She was fascinated by that man who cared so much about discretion and freedom of thought and action and kept repeating to her the importance for a woman of finding a partner who could excite her emotions without any fear of him turning into a stalker when she decided to end their relationship.
He realized that she was attracted to him because he made her feel comfortable, because he let her talk about whatever she liked without any limits or prejudices, because he had listened to her with interest and because they enjoyed talked about all the traveling they had done and the places they’d both visited. Their furtive exchange of numbers had been the inevitable successful completion of an interesting chat which had found them in tune and longing to make a trip together after getting to know each other better which, for obvious reasons, they decided to postpone to when they were back in Bologna.
«You must have said something? Did you talk about anything in particular?».
«She said who she was, where she came from, what she did in her life. I talked a bit about me, about my job, we talked about travels and we promised to continue our chat in Bologna, quietly with no one around to disturb us because my woman was so jealous and her man looked annoyed, too. To avoid creating any embarrassment we decided to stop, ignoring each other for the rest of the day, but I assure you that it was a real pity not to be free, we could have got to know each other better at that moment. And now nothing. What an ugly end» he sighed.
«You didn’t even kiss? It seems strange if I know you» continued his colleague.
«Forget it, here comes the helicopter with the public prosecutor and the men of the Operation department. You’d better leave a note tomorrow for the reporter on day shift because there is going to be a lot of work to do and tell the boss that by tomorrow I want to know if I have to stay here to follow the case or if I have to come back to start work again on Monday». Saru just had time to clarify the last details and say goodbye to his reporter pal when he heard a foreign voice calling him, someone who was not his compatriot and had the cold accent of someone who was born and grew up under the shadow of the Alps.
«It’s me» he answered with a questioning look.
«I’m lieutenant colonel Gianni Lelli, the commander of the Operative Section of Foggia» the official introduced himself with a typical Alto Adige accent which didn’t make a good impression to him.
«Nice to meet you colonel, I’m Rosario Santacroce».
«I imagine you know you’re going to have to tell us a lot of things» started the colonel without making the effort to show any courtesy, confirming the bad impression that the reporter had from the beginning.
«I realize it’s going to be a long night».
«Come, I’ll introduce you to the investigating magistrate, the public prosecutor Carla De Paolis».
«Good evening, I’m Rosario Santacroce».
«I understand you were the first to come onto the scene of the murder» the prosecutor said with a probing attitude and a thinly-veiled dislike that didn’t bode well, making the reporter bristle.
«Yes, I was the first one to run to the place as soon as I heard the scream».
«Why were you here?».
«I’m on holiday, the last day of my vacation on the island, but I’m sure I’ll be staying in the neighborhood for quite a bit longer».
«What makes you believe that? Perhaps you have something to say, something you’re hiding?».
«Absolutely not, but I think it’s very likely that my newspaper will ask me to follow the case. Sorry if I didn’t introduce myself before, I’m a reporter and I work in Bologna, the city the victim was from».
«All we needed was a reporter…» the prosecutor said sighing, making the wall built up by the first exchanges and the unfriendly tone even higher.
«Don’t tell me you also have it in for the free press» said Saru without getting an answer.
«Who were you talking to on the phone just now?» the woman asked.
«It wasn’t my lawyer, ma’am. I don’t need one» answered the reporter who could not explain to himself the hostility the prosecutor was showing towards him.
«You didn’t answer my question».
«You’ll forgive me if I dare to say that I don’t think knowing who my caller was will help you understand and solve the case» retorted Saru triggering the explosion that until that moment seemed just a potential collision unwanted by him. For the umpteenth time, his hot temper and his tendency to forget about tact when what was at stake were what he considered the principles of civil coexistence, risked making the situation complicated. His rationality invited him to let the dispute go, even if he knew he was not wrong to respond in kind to the unfair attack he was being subjected to. But in the end, what interested him the most at the moment was his goal, in other words track down the facts and bring home the story.
«I invite you, Mr. Santacroce, to change your attitude because I don’t like it at all and I think it’s somewhat offensive and rude» the prosecutor topped it off.
«I prefer not to answer because I don’t think this is the place or the time to talk about manners and respect. And even if I don’t think I am under any obligation to tell you this, I was talking with my newspaper».
«Why?».
«You know, I’m a reporter and I witnessed a crime. One and one makes two».
«Are you being sarcastic Santacroce?».
«I’m just answering your questions».
«You know you can’t talk to anybody?».
«Why?» asked Saru already knowing the answer, the same one which was repeated to him in every situation.
«The preliminary investigation is under wraps».
«I just told them the situation, ma’am. Not even the smallest allusion to a possible line of investigation which by the way I can’t know as you haven’t started yet».
«Later I’ll listen to you and we’ll verbalize your declarations, now would you tell me more or less what you saw?».
«When I arrived it was dark, I couldn’t see anything and while running I stumbled ending up on the woman who was in a puddle of blood. I tried to help her, but she was almost dead».
«Is there anyone who can confirm your version, Santacroce?».
«I suppose everyone who was sitting at the restaurant with me and my girlfriend when we heard the scream. But before continuing I’d like to change my clothes, this smell of blood is making me nauseous and I need my girlfriend to go to the other side of the island to get me some clean clothes».
«Colonel don’t let any of the clients of the restaurant go away before taking their statements».
