The Year of the Mantis

by P J Mann

  THE YEAR OF THE MANTIS

  P. J. Mann

  Copyrights © 2021 by P. J. Mann. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 978-952-7415-17-7 (paperback)

  ISBN 978-952-7415-18-4 (hardback)

  ISBN 978-952-7415-20-7 (EPUB)

  ISBN 978-952-7415-19-1 (MOBI)

  acknowledgments

  I would like to thank first of all my editor, Lorraine Kolmacic Carey, for her support suggestions and fantastic editing work. Mr. Pasquale Rapetti ex Police officer, for the great help concerning police procedures in case of murder cases in Italy and the hierarchy inside the Police Corps. Attorney Roberto Fiorucci for the precious legal assistance. My reader’s team who gave great suggestions and supported me also for this novel.

  INTRO

  01.28.2010, Rome (Italy) 3:00 a.m.

  The door of the apartment slammed close with a threatening creaking sound on its hinges. With a muffled growl, Claudio froze for a moment, hoping his son didn’t wake up.

  The soft snoring coming from his son’s bedroom relieved him. Keeping the light switched off, guided by the feeble illumination coming from the streets, filtering through the curtains, he prowled across the living room.

  He slipped off the jacket and carelessly threw it to the couch when the ringing of his mobile phone echoed in the apartment. A whispered curse escaped him, already imagining himself under the sheets of his bed relaxing after a long day and night.

  “Hello,” he whispered, trying to open the door of the apartment, not to wake up anyone who was sleeping.

  A female voice answered him, but due to the missing ID caller, he couldn’t recognize the owner. “Mr. Calvani, this is the Venus Caprice club. I’m sorry to disturb you, but someone found a credit card bearing your name, and since you’re one of our VIP members, we considered it appropriate to call you. Would you be able to come by and get it? We’ll be closing within three hours, and we’d prefer not to store anything belonging to our customers.” Claudio tried to clear his mind, thinking about his credit card. Indeed, that would have been an annoying inconvenience as he’d have to wait until the opening hour the following day.

  Grimacing at his distraction for not having checked whether he forgot anything in the club, he started to walk to the elevator. “Thank you; I’ll be there in about half an hour. Will you give the card to the bouncer, so I can retrieve it and leave right away?”

  “Of course, thank you very much.” Abruptly the woman closed the conversation as Claudio rushed to his car. In his mind, there was nothing else but returning home as soon as possible and getting some sleep. The morning after, he had an important meeting scheduled at half past eleven, and he couldn’t afford to look sleepy or unsharp.

  From this moment on, I swear to God, I will never leave the club without having a complete inventory of what I have in my pocket and what I might have left behind.

  CHAPTER 1

  01.28.2010, Rome (Italy) 6:00 a.m.

  A relieved exhale released the stress Giulia accumulated during the night as she stepped out of the wagon. It was six o’clock in the morning, and the ride on the night train drained her of all the energies. Regardless of the traveling class, there was always something that didn’t work the way she’d hoped. Her feet were swollen, and she was sure her hair stuck out of her head like those of an old witch. With a subtle movement, she adjusted the blazer and ran her hands down her hair. She paced to the next exit, suitcase in hand, looking for a taxi.

  That wasn’t supposed to be something hard to find. If there was something easy to get at the Termini station, that was a taxi.

  “Good morning,” greeted the taxi driver, gently taking the suitcase and placing it on the trunk of his black Mercedes.

  “Good morning. I need to reach via Colfiorito 8,” she exhaled with the last remnants of strength.

  Without replying, the driver opened the door of the car for her, and as they were ready, he started to drive. She knew the ride would have been almost smooth at that time of the morning and hoped to be at home within 20 minutes. Glancing outside the roads of Rome caused her to produce a smile; the kind of smile a person gives returning to what is familiar and meant home.

  Reaching the apartment, she closed the door behind herself and slipped off the shoes. Considered the long journey, she wouldn’t have gone to the office until the following day. Routinely she prepared herself a coffee and turned on the TV to listen to the news.

  She was still massaging her feet when the telephone started to ring.

  Generally, she wouldn’t receive any calls before eight or nine o’clock in the morning, and at half past seven, that ring seemed to be off time, mainly because it came from the mobile phone of her son, Luciano.

  “Lucio, I thought you were still sleeping. What happened?”

  She divorced her husband, Claudio, a few years before, but their son, who was eighteen years old at the time, decided to remain and live with the father.

  “Mom, I... I have to tell you …” his labored breath choked his voice as his heart started to race in his chest.

  “Luciano, darling, is everything okay? What’s going on? Did you have an accident with the car? Are you hurt?” She tried to go through all the possible hypotheses coming to her mind to justify his frightened, broken voice.

  “Mom, something terrible…” he said, taking long pauses between one word and the other. “It’s not about me; it’s about Dad.”

  “Oh!” her voice toughened, not clearly interested in listening to what happened to that asshole, as she addressed him.

  “Mom, please, this is serious!” he reproached, yet understanding her bitterness would have never disappeared for how Claudio behaved toward her when he repeatedly cheated on her with that stripper. “Dad... Oh, my God. I found him dead in his car. Someone killed him last night, and I don’t know what to do.” His voice trembled as he started to sob, unable to control his emotions anymore. It was as if uttering the words dead and kill opened a faucet from where his tears could finally flow from the bottom of his soul.

  There was a moment of silence when Luciano thought his mother dropped the conversation, assuming she didn’t give a damn.

  “Luciano, where are you, dear? Have you called the Police?” Her tone rushed as she was running to get to the car to drive to his place.

  “I’m out here, in the garage. I hoped someone would have come and helped me, but nobody’s going anywhere today,” he kept sobbing.

  “Now, listen to me very carefully,” she said as she started the engine of the car. “I’m coming to you. Then, when I’m there, we’ll call the Police. They will take care of everything but try not to touch anything. Do you understand?”

  Considering that would have been the best solution, he glanced around, and leaving the door of the car the way he found it, he faltered toward the exit to wait for Giulia.

  “Ok, I’ll be waiting for you outside, but, please, hurry. I don’t want to be alone,” he begged, turning to view the shiny black Lamborghini. Claudio was very proud of that car and for Luciano, having it even for one day meant being able to wake up before him and borrow it.

  Looking at it, it was nothing but a coffin, and as his father’s soul left the pain of this mortal life, too many questions started to swirl in his mind; most of those seemed to be complete nonsense. One question started to repeat insistently; was this the day he had to die? – he thought. Things could have gone differently if he had never known that goddamned strip club he used to frequent.

  “I’ll be there immediately,” Giulia replied, ending the conversation. Her mind blurred with the fear of Luciano’s state of mind. She knew he loved Claudio, and regardless of his mistakes, Luciano still felt the attachment rightfully belonging to a son for his father
.

  Having spent the night on a train from Reggio Calabria, where she had a meeting the previous day, slowed her reactions at the steering wheel of the car. She kept praying to have at least the necessary interval of sharpness to reach Luciano and call the Police. After that, she could have collapsed, but not now.

  She approached the building where her ex-husband had his apartment and noticed Luciano on the street. Parking the car at the side of the road, she got outside and ran to hold him.

  He was in a strange trance and oddly held her back, despite the desperate need to feel the familiar warmth of a mother’s hug.

  “Let’s go inside the apartment, dear,” she glanced at him, caressing his face and combing his hair with her fingers. Locking her eyes on him, she held Luciano tightly to herself, unable to find the right words to be said in such a moment.

  Claudio’s death didn’t come as a surprise, she knew that frequenting a corrupted environment such as a strip club could result in some nasty consequences. She neither cared about it. Cheating on her with a cheap prostitute wasn’t something she would have forgiven— ever. Nevertheless, the consequences that incident brought to her son changed everything, and the most important thing was to have the Police make light to the mystery.

  Ensuring that Luciano was comfortably seated on the couch, she grabbed her mobile phone and dialed the 113, the emergency number at the Police Department.

  Keeping a steady voice, she could explain what had happened, or at least what she got from the phone call with Luciano.

  Although the Members of the Police Department didn’t know Claudio personally, he was quite famous. He belonged to the elite group of skilled entrepreneurs who inherited the family firm, transforming it from a profitable business to unimaginable success.

  Immediately, Forensic Police rushed to enclose the crime scene and collect all sorts of evidence, meantime Detective Maurizio Scala, who was designated to follow the case, reached the apartment to collect testimony from those closely related to the victim.

  He remained standing up, not to contaminate any areas with his own traces. Giulia and Luciano sat down in the living room, on the couch where Claudio’s jacket was still lying.

  “Who is living in this apartment?” Detective Scala asked, taking out a notebook from his pocket and began to scribble something.

  “I live here with my father,” the shaky voice of Luciano came out as a feeble response to the question. His hand tightly held in his mother’s.

  “What about you, Ma’am?”

  Averting her gaze from her son, she turned to the Detective. “I don’t live here anymore. I divorced Claudio three years ago, but my apartment is not far. I divorced my husband, not my son.”

  With a nod, Detective Scala kept writing his notes. “And you were the one who found Mr. Calvani’s body? Do you know anything that could help us?”

  Luciano hesitated for a moment, trying to recollect his thoughts. “Yesterday, after dinner, Dad left. I know he used to go to a particular nightclub, but I don’t know if yesterday evening he went there or if he met his new girlfriend. He left home at about nine in the evening. I hadn’t heard any noise, as generally, I sleep with my earplugs. My father snored quite loudly.”

  A disappointed grunt escaped Giulia; the words new girlfriend still burned, for she was the reason why the marriage, she thought was destined to last forever, smashed in a thousand pieces. There wasn’t a time when she wondered what her husband could have found in a prostitute that was better than all the years they’d spent together.

  Just giving her a fast glimpse, Luciano continued his story. “I remained at home, as today I was supposed to go to lectures at the university. Obviously, this is not going to happen, and I believe I’ll be away from my studies for some time.”

  “So, the victim left, and you remained home,” repeated Detective Scala continuing to write in his notebook. “Do you know the name of the club he used to go to?”

  A moment of silence filled the room. Luciano felt almost ashamed to admit he had no idea where his father spent his evenings.

  Claudio didn’t need a guardian, being old enough to go wherever he pleased without telling anyone his plans. Yet, Luciano wondered whether knowing that detail could have somehow helped in that situation and perhaps could have also prevented the tragedy. He shook his head at that thought. Obviously, something similar couldn’t have been predicted or avoided.

  If there were someone after him, it would be a question of time before he would have succeeded. “No, I have no idea about his whereabouts, but perhaps his girlfriend can provide some information. Her number can be found on his mobile phone’s directory,” Luciano suggested.

  “Does it belong to the victim?” Detective Scala asked, glancing curtly at the jacket on the couch.

  “Yes, when I woke up this morning, I thought he was still sleeping. Generally, he gives me a ride to the university if our schedules coincide. Today, I thought I could get his Lamborghini for myself, that’s why I didn’t think to go and wake him up.” Luciano recalled, feeling his desire to have the car foolish and meaningless. “I checked the jacket to find the key, but it wasn’t there, so I thought it was in the pocket of his jeans. This meant I couldn’t get the car unless I would have gotten the spare keys he keeps in the drawer of the desk in his studio. When I reached the garage...”

  His voice trembled and couldn’t talk anymore. Telling how he found his father dead in a pool of blood wasn’t something easy to speak out loud. Probably he would never be able to talk about that sight when he reached the car.

  Giulia held Luciano tightly in her arms, trying to console him, wondering whether the Detective could continue the questioning later or another day.

  With a nod, raising his eyes at Luciano, Detective Scala pursued. “Have you ever met his new girlfriend?” He understood it wasn’t easy going through the facts, which could have led to his father’s death, but there wasn’t any other way to get a clear idea of all the players in Mr. Calvani’s life and those who could have a reason to have him dead.

  “No, I haven’t. We tried to avoid talking about her, although I decided to live with my father, this didn’t mean I approved his lifestyle.”

  “Hmmm,” muttered Detective Scala. “And where were you last night?” he turned his glance to the one who could have had a good reason to get rid of Claudio Calvani, his ex-wife Giulia.

  “I hope you don’t think I could have killed my ex-husband!” Her green eyes opened wide at what appeared to be an outrageous comment. “However, to satisfy your curiosity, I have been traveling by train from Reggio Calabria, where I had a job meeting. I arrived this morning at the Termini Station at about six o’clock and got a taxi to reach home, just in time to receive the call of Luciano.” She averted the look from the detective and searched for something in her purse. “Here, this is the train ticket validated yesterday evening and checked by the ticket inspector. And this is the receipt of the taxi driver. I hope you’re satisfied.” She slammed the receipts on the sofa table in front of them.

  “Mrs. Calvani, it wasn’t my intention to doubt your words; I’m trying to understand what happened to your ex-husband,” he tried to justify himself. Yet grabbing the travel documents as proof to be inserted on the list of pieces of evidence.

  “My surname is no longer Calvani. My name is Giulia Martini,” she pointed out, hissing, yet trying to remain calm.

  Detective Scala observed the spaces of the apartment. “I’m afraid I will need to look around, and for a few days, we’ll need to close up this place for investigations. Do you have a place to go in the meantime?” he asked Luciano.

  “Yes, I can go to live with Mum, but I will also need to get my personal items...” his voice trembled, thinking about the chance of not being able to return there for a long time.

  “Sweetheart, this won’t take long, you can get new clothes. Grab your books and laptop for now,” Giulia reasoned.

  “We can let you take your laptop with you, but the h
ome should remain the way it is. If you can bring your computer to the Police Precinct, they’ll make a copy of the hard disk, and you can leave right away.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Remained alone in the apartment, after Luciano and Giulia left, Maurizio walked toward the couch, waiting for the forensic team to reach the apartment from the garage to continue their search.

  He started to analyze some details of the crime, beginning with the discussion he had with the two closest people to the victim. The ex-wife, although she was the one to have a good motive, has a bulletproof alibi, the son didn’t have any apparent reason to kill his father, he ruminated. He remained to live with him after the divorce; if there was resentment or desire to revenge for the offense to his mother, he would have also decided to stay with her. Yet, we need to confirm his alibi being close to the crime scene.

  He shuffled on his feet, as he finished writing in his notebook his first impressions. The door opening forced him to return from his thoughts, and Forensic Inspector Leonardo Romizi, leading the forensic team that reached the place, entered the apartment glancing around. “You haven’t touched anything, have you?” he asked, noticing Maurizio’s hands not wearing the latex gloves.

  “I was here writing in my notebook; I think I’ve done my work long enough to remember that detail.”

  Forensic Investigator Romizi shrugged, “Just checking.”

  “What are your first impressions? Is there anything interesting about the way Mr. Calvani was murdered?” Maurizio strolled toward Leonardo, placing the notebook in his pocket.

  “Yes, and everything seems to point at a case that won’t be easy to solve. He was killed with a single shot to the head from a very close range. We found only one shell, meaning that the gun wasn’t a revolver,” he said, raising the clear-sealed bag which contained it. “We will have to perform the ballistic models to see from which position he was shot, whether the assassin was waiting for him in the car or outside of it. There are so many points on the dynamic that need to be clarified, and hopefully, the surveillance camera installed will, for once, be helpful to get more information about the killer.”