by P J Mann
“We only know that a white FIAT Punto has been parked in the same spot for about three weeks around the Roman Dock.” Maurizio didn’t want to ask about the location of the car. When he saw Aldo hesitating to climb down the boat and the way he stepped as if the floor was on fire, caught his attention. Something told him that man had to be questioned, whether generally or specifically.
Drawing a deep breath, Aldo scanned the dock area and shrugged. “There are many places where a car could have been left abandoned.” He turned himself toward the other side of the dock and pointed his finger in the direction of a building. “There’s a larger parking lot over there behind that building— you might want to check that first.”
Changing the direction of his finger, tracing the distance along the dock line, he continued. “Following the road, there’s a smaller one. Perhaps the car’s there. I can’t say, but those two places are where you might start.” His voice flickered.
“Is there anything wrong?” Leonardo wondered.
Aldo closed his eyes, swallowing his tears, “I’m tired... very tired, and my day has just begun, so if you’ll excuse me, I’ll have to get some supplies for the night.” With those words, Aldo left, hoping not to be disturbed any longer.
The presence of the police never led to anything good; not at least for those ill-intentioned or those who have something to hide. Increasing his steps, he reached the storage without turning back to the two officers.
“Why did you have to ask him anything?” Leonardo wondered as they traced back their steps in the direction of the parking lot where the car was located.
“Because that man... I can’t explain it, but there’s something in the way he kept his gaze lowered as he walked. Something bothered him before he saw us, but got almost terrified, when I called him,” Maurizio replied, keeping an eye on the place where Aldo disappeared. “Then, the flicker in his voice when he claimed being tired. It was as if he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He might know something about the car or its owner.”
Leonardo shrugged. “We generally make people get restless, particularly when they meet us in the middle of the night.”
They reached the car and Leonardo started to take photographs of the location, and other traces he could add to the archive as they were waiting for the tow truck to arrive.
Wearing his latex gloves, Leonardo tried to open the door, wondering whether it had been left open—it wasn’t. Besides, the car was supposed to reach the Forensic Department, and from that moment on his team would have collected every sort of evidence to answer at least a couple of the most important questions: Who was driving the car? Was he alone? Were there traces of blood, which were cleaned up? Any other body fluids?
While they waited for the tow truck, Maurizio kept an eye on the place where Aldo went and waited to see him coming out. The parking place wasn’t the closest one, and the view to the dock was restricted. Nevertheless, if there would have been anything that attracted his attention further, he could have moved away.
The truck arrived at the same moment as Aldo got out of the storage. “Take care of this; I’m going to follow our friend,” he said without taking his eyes off Aldo.
Reaching a good position, he noticed a group of four people walking in the direction of the boat where Aldo was. Something was also off with them. They were walking in a group, but none of them exchanged a word. They all appeared to be mesmerized...scared even; nothing to do with the fishermen he always remembered from the time when he went to the very same dock as a child with his mother to buy fish.
The people he could recognize as fishermen belonging to the same team, were charmingly chattering together, exchanging jokes or orders, and most of all they were all quite vociferous and loud. These men seemed as though they were walking inside a church, as if they were going to a funeral.
And perhaps they have witnessed one, he considered. He took note of the name of the boat and decided he would have reached the closest canteen. Some places were open during the night, planned just for the fishermen who were leaving late. If nobody had given him useful information about that strange ghost crew, he would have tried the morning after until someone would have explained to him what was going on with these people.
The group reached the ship and went in without greeting the one who Maurizio considered being the captain.
“Anything interesting?” Leonardo’s voice interrupted his inner considerations.
Turning his face to him, he grinned. “You bet there is. Have you ever had any experiences of members of a crew being silent, and barely talking to each other?” he asked as they started to walk back to their car.
Shaking his head, Leonardo had to admit it would have been the first time he’d heard something similar.
“I took note of the name of the ship; either we find someone ready to tell us what is going on with those people, or we will have to find out, our way.” Maurizio kept walking in the opposite direction, turning his face every now and then to check the boat.
A loud yawn from Leonardo’s mouth echoed in the silence of the night. “I guess we won’t have time to go to sleep, will we?” he complained.
“I would like to ask around first, then we can return home, and tomorrow we will take care of the rest. Believe me, I’m dead tired too, and thinking of driving all the way back to Rome and home, is already killing me.”
They reached the closest canteen, which was still open. Maurizio wasn’t familiar with the town or the places, but he required information for his own peace of mind.
The place was ready for closure, as there weren’t any customers, and the personnel started to clean up. The man behind the cash register was going to tell those who entered to go out, but his mouth froze as he saw the two officers coming inside. The first reaction was whether they were performing a routine check of the business activities for any irregularity, but noticing the forensic police vest, he relaxed immediately. “Good evening,” he greeted. “What brings you here at this time of the night?”
Maurizio looked around to get familiar with the environment. “Good evening, to you too. Is this a place where the fishermen come here to have dinner or lunch?” He didn’t have time for pleasantries, and he went straight to the point.
“There are many places where they go, but this is the closest one,” the man replied as the other two kept tending to their cleaning chores.
“Do you know anything about a fishing boat called, “Sea Rider?” Maurizio asked.
“Aldo’s boat? Sure, he came here every day for dinner. However, it’s been a few weeks. I see it there, but he doesn’t get out of it anymore. Sometimes I walk around, I have some good friends among those fishermen, and Aldo was one of them.”
Narrowing his eyes, Maurizio glared at Leonardo with a barely perceptible nod. “What happened? Did you have an argument?”
Shaking his head with his hands raised he said, “That, I’d be damned if I know what’s going on. To tell the truth, detective, the whole crew became like ghosts. None of them frequent any of the bars or restaurants they used to. They hardly exchange any words with the other fishermen. Some talk about an ancient curse, a tale whispered by the seamen, but you know those are just legends, and there isn’t any curse, or any evil creature that can steal the soul of a sailor,” he chuckled, amused recalling that story.
“I don’t believe in those stories either, but sometimes those legends can hold a foundation of truth. Do you recall anything that took place recently, which could explain their change in behavior?” Maurizio inquired.
He was aware that in such a small environment, if someone had some trouble with any irregularity, the last person they would have talked to it was a police officer. Yet, if the case was perhaps more serious, like the case of a murder, they would have been more likely to talk.
“I can’t say whether there had been anything that triggered their sudden change of behavior. The only thing I can say, and I know, is from one day to another, they quit coming to this res
taurant to eat, they became all silent, and Aldo refused to leave his boat. I have asked the others, but none of them could understand what was going on.” Some fishermen smuggled either drugs or weapons between the coasts of Corsica and Italy, but that was a detail he wasn’t going to mention for no reason in the world. If that was the reason for Aldo and his crew to change their behavior, it would have been something the officers had to find out on their own.
I’m their friend; they all have families, and I’m not going to reveal anything that could bring such a financial catastrophe. Fishing is not an easy job or something to get rich with, and those people are trying their best to survive.
Maurizio nodded, understanding that what he revealed was only a part of the truth, the rest he had to figure it out on his own.
“Another question if I may—we received a notice of an abandoned car in one of the parking places. It was a white FIAT Punto. Have you noticed anything strange around? You said you walk around to chat with the fishermen, perhaps you’ve noticed the car too, or you’ve heard someone talking about it?” Maurizio needed to get all the information possible from him. Certainly, he could have asked around the day after, but his curiosity had to be satisfied; he didn’t have time until the morning after.
“No, I haven’t noticed anything about any car. I’m sorry.”
As his lips pursed, Maurizio remembered having the pictures of Igor and Irina with him. Perhaps that was information the man was willing to share. If so, they might have left the country relying on the help of those fishermen, and perhaps their departure relates to the behavior of this Aldo and his crew.
Maurizio searched his pockets, extracting the pictures, drawing a long breath, “Have you ever seen any of these two people around here? Did they ever come into this restaurant or have you noticed them passing by?”
Unwilling to give away too much information that could have harmed any of his friends, he took the pictures in his hands and examined them carefully. He certainly remembered having seen the girl roaming around Aldo’s boat, but he was sure this information could have given him more trouble than the one he was dealing with; the ones that turned the whole crew into a ghostly bunch of lost souls.
With a weak shake of his head, he returned the picture to Maurizio, “I’m sorry, Detective, I haven’t seen any of them around here. You should ask whether the fishermen had seen anything; they have better chances to be outside around the dock, either when they are taking care of the boats, or when they are unloading their ships.”
Taking back the pictures, Maurizio looked at Leonardo, and back to the man behind the register. A long, exhausted exhale escaped his mouth as tiredness won over frustration and stamina. “Thank you very much. We’ll try to find our own answer. Have a good night.” He turned and motioned to Leonardo to head out of the restaurant.
“So, perhaps Igor and Irina were here, because the car was still on the parking lot,” Leonardo commenced. “They had probably been seen, because the man was obviously lying, and the most important thing is that this probably had to do with the change in mood of the crew of the Sea Rider.”
“And that’s exactly what we will find out. I’m sure with the right pressure this Aldo will be ready to talk.” He took another look at the dock, and with a grimace he noticed the boat was no longer there. “We will have to wait until tomorrow morning or afternoon, whenever they’ll be back from their fishing gig.”
Tilting his head backward Leonardo whimpered, “I can’t wait. I need to sleep, or I will collapse here. It’s two o’clock.”
“We’ll have to continue tomorrow. First thing in the morning you will go through the examination of the car, and I’ll be back here with officers Milani or Silvani to find out more about those fishermen. I wish I had a search warrant, but that might require time, and it’s something I don’t have. Oh well, let’s go to sleep.”
CHAPTER 20
Maurizio arrived in zombie mode the following morning to his office. He had no idea how he was able to reach the Police Precinct with his car in the state he was in without having any kind of accident. A coffee wasn’t simply a must, it was a civic duty, and for that kind of emergency, it should have been the one offered in the common room by the vending machine. That tasted like the nastiest rat-poison in the world; the kind of beverage necromancers use to wake the dead.
The morning didn’t start off on the best premises, but recalling what was at stake, he gathered all his strength after gulping the murky brew, like a medicine. He paced toward the room where Officer Silvani and Senior officer Milani were supposedly working.
“Milani, come with me, we need to arrive at the Roman Dock in Civitavecchia,” he said without even a simple greeting, slamming the door open.
Officer Silvani, as usual, stood at attention, like a tin soldier, “Sir!” he greeted.
“At ease, officer, at ease,” Maurizio smiled. Perhaps it was excessive, and not being in the army anymore, that kind of stiffness wasn’t required, more than standing up as he came in with more natural moves, like senior officer Sandra Milani did. Nevertheless, it was something that pleased him.
Grabbing her jacket, she smiled, “Good morning, Detective Scala.” She turned to Officer Silvani, noticing he had sat down, continuing his duties.
“Last night, Romizi and I reached the Roman Dock, where we found the car and had it towed to the Forensic Department, so I guess Romizi’s team is playing the little chemist on it today,” he chuckled with an evil grin on his face, as they walked to the parking lot.
“Interesting, but I also have some news for you,” she commenced. “When you told us to have all the Mr. Calvani’s call logs, we found out something interesting. Recently, he received a call from a cafeteria in Paris, besides those from friends and family members in Rome. Then, there was a couple of days of silence and then a regular call log from Hungary. The number was the same as the one he used to receive calls from his girlfriend, Irina Leonova.”
“So, this means she’s back in Hungary,” he muttered. “As we return from Civitavecchia, we will have to pay a visit to Ms. Fazekas. We need her to call her sister and have her answer a couple of questions about whether she knows anything about the girl’s hangouts. We will also ask what her mother knows about Irina.” He took a short pause before entering the car, to explain what he was thinking. “Ms. Fazekas has always said her daughter didn’t come to Italy if not to visit her. She also was sure Irina didn’t have any boyfriends, not here or in Hungary, because she was sure she would have told her about it. Now, I don’t have experience about it, because my daughter is only four years old but perhaps you can help. Would you have told your mother if you’re dating the son of her boyfriend?”
She placed her elbows on the top of the car, her eyes locked on Maurizio, and thinking carefully at his question. “I don’t know. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with dating the son of the boyfriend of your mother, but it might make the situation quite bizarre. Perhaps she doesn’t feel comfortable telling her this detail; not at least until she’s sure she wants to spend her life with him. In her place, I would have done the same.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” he said, pointing his finger at her, and entering the car. “The problem is, in this case, we have a murder, and there are a few options we might think about. The first is Igor Leonov, jealous of Madlen’s relationship with Mr. Calvani, decided this has been the time to show her she belonged only to him, and if he couldn’t have her, then nobody would. He didn’t want to kill her, because deep inside he still loved her. Yet he was ready to make sure that everyone who came too close would be eliminated. So, strong of his previous connections with the criminality, he got a weapon and carefully planned a way to murder Mr. Calvani.”
Senior officer Milani followed him without saying a word, focusing on the possibilities he was going to present her.
Starting to drive, he continued the list of his suspects. “Then we have Luciano, he doesn’t need to murder his father for money. He has the f
unds already, together with fancy cars and easy life. Yet, the father doesn’t have much time for him. Mrs. Moretti, his neighbor, confirmed there had been a tensed relationship between the two, and it often transpired into frequent arguments.”
With a slow movement, Senior officer Milani turned her glance at him, “Oh please! This is not a reason to kill. In that case, I should have killed my father, bring him back to life, re-kill him and repeat the sequence at least ten times, for all the times we argued!” She raised her hands to her chest. “Sir, haven’t you ever argued with your father, and yelled at him that you wished he was dead?”
The sudden roar of his laughter relieved the heavy atmosphere created by the conversation. “Indeed we argued, and once I also punched him on the nose... That wasn’t a good move from me. You might be right; a fight can happen, and this doesn’t mean he could have killed him. Yet, there’s the controversial figure of Irina, despite the turbulent relationship between her parents, she has a good relationship with her father; so close to have her going to see him and staying at his place. The fact that she didn’t tell her mother about her intention to spend some time with her father, could be a good explanation for Ms. Fazekas not to know about her move. But then...” He recalled what he saw last night. “Then the car of Igor was found in Civitavecchia abandoned in a parking lot. Eventually, he agreed with some fishermen to bring him to the coasts of Corsica. Perhaps he had someone who could have smuggled him eluding the coast guards and the border police.”
Senior officer Milani pursed her lips, twisting them to the right side. “Was his daughter, Irina, with him?”
“Probably, yes. In his apartment were found traces of DNA belonging to him, and some sporadic traces most likely belonging to a woman. The neighbors confirmed having seen a woman resembling Irina, going in and coming from his apartment. I consider her presence strange enough because, according to the border police, none of her passports were recorded after the time she left Italy in October. Although coming from a Schengen area, you won’t necessarily have to pass for the passport control, the authorities would have the list of the passengers on a flight, boat or train. If you come by road, the passport control can’t be eluded. What did she have to hide, if not her involvement in the murder? Why murder the father of her boyfriend?” He grinned, knowing the answer was right in front of him, but he couldn’t grab it.