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Missing

Page 14

by Monty Marsden


  “Find… a man… from Niccioleta… who lived there… five years ago… who stayed in hotels… residences… near the Demba family’s house… and Ami’s school… at least… six months… before the kid… napping.”

  Claps put down his phone and began to walk back to town.

  More thoughts, more questions. What had Elisa seen?

  Was it just the kidnapping?

  How did she know about the amputated finger? Was it possible that the beast chopped it off on the spot?

  Claps’ phone vibrated again but only once, it was a text message. It was from the Massa Marittima police chief.

  “The mail you’re waiting for has arrived.”

  1 These words echo the ending to “Il riflesso del lupo” (Leone Editore, Monza 2012). The story focuses on the life of a young professor Trevis, a lecturer of psychology, and the mysterious murders of an unsuspected serial killer.

  12

  It was past 8:00 p.m. when Abedi took Elaji to his humble adobe. The guest sat down to watch TV while he waited for Abedi to tidy up the house and then he went to the bathroom. When Elaji came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, the TV had been turned off and Abedi was staring at the empty screen with a sad expression.

  “You were on TV a few minutes ago,” he said in Wolof, avoiding Elaji’s eyes. “I saw you.”

  Elaji didn’t reply, but his mask of a rough, wild man dissolved immediately. His eyes stared firmly into Abedi’s.

  “I knew I’d seen you somewhere before… but I couldn’t remember where. We’ve prayed for your daughter, Elaji, and we will still do.”

  “What did they say on TV?” Elaji’s voice was cold.

  “They were talking about Ami. They were saying that the police are still after the culprit. They showed a clip, you were with your wife.”

  Elaji carried on staring into Abedi’s eyes without moving a muscle.

  “Why did you lie to me? Why are you here?”

  “I wanted to find you, I wanted to speak to you.”

  Abedi stood up and headed to the kitchen. He turned on a ring on the cooker to heat up some leftover food.

  “Why me? Did somebody send you?”

  “No.”

  “The police?”

  “No.”

  Abedi began to stir the food in the pan.

  “A policeman came to ask me some questions yesterday. There was a man with him. He wasn’t in uniform. He kept staring at me.”

  Abedi remained silent for a little while, as if he expected Elaji to respond to his statement.

  “Now,” he carried on, eventually. “You come over to speak to me.”

  “What did the policeman want to know?”

  “He showed me the photo of a young girl. He wanted to know if I’d seen her before.”

  “What did you say to him?”

  “I’d never seen her before.”

  During this conversation, Abedi had kept his back towards Elaji, stirring the food in the pan. Elaji walked closer to him and made him turn round.

  “I belong to a different tribe.” His muscles vibrated under the worn out clothes. His eyes glared with pride and strength. “My grandfather was the village griot, and his father before him and my father after him. My name is Elaji Demba and I’m asking you if you know that young girl?”

  Abedi looked away.

  “Will you tell the police?”

  “Perhaps the man who was staring at you. He’s a good man.”

  Abedi turned off the heat and sat down. Elaji followed him with his eyes.

  “I’ve met that girl. She was taken four years ago, just like your daughter.”

  Elaji’s eyes glared with anger again and his eyebrows almost touched one another. “The same man killed her… the same monster.”

  “Are you seeking revenge?”

  “A righteous man never seeks revenge, but sometimes revenge and the right punishment follow parallel paths.”

  “Your words are wise.” Abedi nodded. “Take a seat, Elaji. I’ll tell you what I know.”

  *

  Professor Trevis poured a generous amount of cognac into his glass. He sat down in his armchair, he warmed the drink up with his hand and made it swirl around in the glass to smell its scent.

  He had seen Elisa that afternoon.

  It hadn’t been easy for him, that day. After the meeting with Claps, everything had changed.

  He hadn’t prepared any blank sheets for Elisa to draw on that afternoon. As usual, Elisa had sat quietly on the other side of the desk. This time, the Professor had placed a white sheet in front of himself. The crayons were in the middle, handy for both to take. They had remained still for a few minutes, in silence.

  Trevis believed that it wasn’t the right moment, yet. Under normal conditions, he would have waited a little longer but now he had to break through, he had to speed up the process.

  When he had perceived some slight sign of perception from Elisa, he had grabbed the yellow crayon and slowly drawn the sun in the corner of the sheet. Then he had turned the sheet round and handed it to Elisa.

  While he was turning the sheet, he wondered how the young girl would be feeling. Would she appear indifferent? Would she ignore him? Would she destroy the paper instead of responding to that attempt to communicate?

  Elisa hadn’t shown indifference – she stared at the paper for a long time with her flat expression. Trevis carefully followed every movement and noted each of the changes that he saw.

  It looked like she stared at the white part of the sheet first – or rather, it looked as though she didn’t want to move her eyes to the sun Trevis had drawn.

  “She’s attracted to the white, the empty page, the nothingness.” Trevis thought. “Perhaps she’s not even attracted to it, she just feels protected by the oblivion.”

  Her expression had slowly faded and she had gone back to her state of complete absence. The Professor had resigned himself to failure, when Elisa had come back all of a sudden. Her eyes moved to the side of the page, she hesitated… then eventually she stared at the sun in the corner. She had stared at it for a long time. Trevis noticed that the young girl had remained completely still, almost rigid, all this time. Her expression changed a little and began to show some signs of negativity – the changes were barely perceptible and the Professor wasn’t sure how to interpret them. Irritation? Rejection? Was it something akin to suffering?

  Elisa stared at the crayons and chose one. A black crayon. She began to draw parallel horizontal lines with extreme care and with increasing speed from one side of the sheet to the other. She had been careful not to draw on the sun. She had eventually drawn so many lines that she had filled in all the blank space on the sheet. Only then had Elisa’s expression lost the minimal, nearly imperceptible negativity that the Professor had noticed earlier.

  Trevis leaned back in his armchair. He lifted the glass to his lips. “The sun is there, but it doesn’t illuminate anything.” He let the cognac tickle his throat. “Everything is grey and dark.”

  But the sun was still there, Elisa hadn’t erased it.

  The Professor glanced at his watch, it was still too early to prepare for what was going to be a long, sleepless night.

  He stood up and poured some more cognac. Then the doorbell rang.

  Claps was on the doorstep, he didn’t step into the office.

  “Whoever… took… Denise… had to be… very close… I need to… talk to… her relatives… those that she… saw… regularly.”

  Claps’ eyes shone with a bright, confident light. “But… I can’t do it… as a policeman… who investigates… on the case… I don’t want to… alarm… the monster… I have an idea… and I need your help… Professor.”

  *

  “Her name was Afya and she came from Togo. She had arrived at the camp a month or two earlier. Her father had been there for a year. The police had checked his documents and he had been charged an as illegal immigrant and had been asked to return to his homeland. She had arrived w
ith her mother as an illegal immigrant and they had managed to get to the camp together. When the family were re-united, they had begun to save money to move to France, where some of their relatives lived.

  Afya was a very lively young girl, she was very well behaved and respected the elders. I worked in the fields with her father quite a few times and we’ve eaten at the same table many times. The young girl disappeared one night. Her mother was in the old town, in the northern quarter. She owned a small stand near the town walls. It was dark when she decided to go back to the camp. Afya shot off downhill like she always did, she would have waited at the large square, skipping on the steps of the church. Her mother walked slowly downhill with some heavy bags on her shoulders. When she reached the square, a few minutes later, Afya wasn’t there. She thought that her daughter had made her way to the camp. She had done it before and her mother had reprimanded her for it, but children often forget what they’re told off for… That night, however, Afya never returned to the camp.”

  Abedi stopped his story, he was struggling with his emotions.

  “Did you look for her straight away?” Elaji asked, a few seconds later.

  “A whole squad looked for her for many hours along the road that leads to the camp. Then we moved to the old town, inside the walls, and the new town. We didn’t find her.”

  “Did nobody see anything that night, when she was taken?”

  “You know what they say, Elaji? They say that some men steal our children and they give them to the families of white people who don’t have any children. They walk around cities, towns, they observe, they pick up the prettiest one and they steal them. They had chosen Afya. Her disappearance had been a cause of great distress to her parents, but there was a sweet consolation that the young girl’s life in a rich family would have been beautiful and easy. We resigned ourselves to having lost her forever. You asked me if anybody had seen anything – her mother probably saw one of those men. He was a tall man, with large, dark glasses and a hat. A while later, she remembered that a few days before she had seen the man looking at her and Afya from a distance. He had never approached them, he had never stopped to look at them for too long, he just looked like one of the people from the streets.”

  Abedi paused for a while, then he carried on talking. “We thought that Afya was part of a new family, the pain slowly wore off and the woman got pregnant again. Then, one day, some policemen turned up at the camp. They spoke about the body of a young girl that they had found, they showed us a t-shirt, they wanted to know if a young girl had disappeared from the camp a few months earlier. We understood immediately. Afya had no new family. No new life. No life at all.”

  “Did her mother talk to the police about that man?”

  Abedi shook his head. “She didn’t say anything, but they understood that she knew something. They would have been back again. The woman didn’t have any documents and her husband had been issued with a deportation order. They fled the camp the same night.”

  “Where did they go? Do you know where they are now?”

  Abedi shrugged. “No idea, I know the woman wanted to go to France.”

  “Would she be able to recognise the kidnapper?”

  “Glasses, a hat… she only saw him from a distance. Even if you found her, it would be pretty much useless.”

  Elaji looked over Abedi’s shoulders for a while, thoughtfully.

  “You know more, right?”

  “Well… a few months ago, in the summer, another young girl disappeared from the camp. And a few years before that, two more girls disappeared from another camp near Siena, soon after Afya.”

  Elaji shivered. There had been five girls then, including Ami.

  “How do you know?”

  “I’m well informed, Elaji.”

  “Do you know anything else about these other victims?”

  Abedi shook his head again. “Only that they disappeared.”

  Elaji remained silent for a few seconds. “Tell me about the other young girl from the camp then.”

  “By then I wasn’t at the camp any more. I had my own house. All that I know was told to me by others and it’s no from different from Afya’s kidnapping.”

  “Did they see the tall man again?”

  Abedi spread his arms. “I don’t know.”

  “Is there anybody at the camp who could be of help? Anybody who knows exactly what happened?”

  “Maybe, but not the kid’s parents.”

  “Can you ask around? Can you do this for me, Abedi?”

  Abedi sighed. “You’re not going to leave tomorrow, are you?”

  “No, will you do that for me?”

  *

  The beast was in his hide-out.

  He had made sure that everything was in place – he would be hosting a new guest very soon.

  He adored the emotions that he felt in there.

  He adored the air that filled the place, the noise of his own quiet steps on the floor, the glittering darkness that surrounded him.

  He adored looking at his small trophies.

  Touching them.

  Holding them between his lips.

  Rolling them on his naked skin.

  He chose Ami, his favourite.

  He dropped his clothes.

  He got ready for pleasure.

  13

  The following morning, Elaji went out when the sun was high in the sky. Abedi had been out for about an hour. He had left more clothes for him to carry to Mudiwa.

  Elaji set off on the road, he looked forward to seeing Djara’s smile which reminded him of Ami’s. However, he had been barely a kilometre when two policemen appeared from nowhere and stopped him.

  “Give us your documents, please.” There was nothing friendly in their tone of voice or the way they were looking at him.

  Elaji pointed to his jeans without showing any sign of fear. “They’re here… I’ve sewn them inside my jeans, just in case.”

  “Of course… what about these clothes?”

  “I found them… on the road, a few minutes ago.”

  The younger of the two policeman looked nervous because of Elaji’s size. “Of course you did.”

  “If you let me, I’ll give you my documents.”

  “You’ll do it at the police department, come with us and keep calm.” The elder policeman ordered. “Don’t even try to mess around.”

  Ten minutes later, Elaji was shown into a small office. Claps was sitting behind the desk and greeted him with a nod. He invited him to sit down. “I’m sorry for… the lack of… manners, Elaji.” Claps said, as soon as they were alone. “I didn’t want to… talk to be seen… talking to you.”

  Elaji didn’t show any surprise at the fact that Claps was sat in front of him.

  “I gather… that you didn’t reveal… your real identity… to Abedi.” Claps said and he pointed to the worn out clothes that Elaji was wearing. “This seemed… the best way… to meet… Abedi knows… me.”

  On the one hand, Elaji hadn’t shown any emotion; on the other hand, Claps seemed very comfortable. It was as if finding Elaji in Massa Marittima and having planned that show to get to talk to him was the most natural thing in the world. Claps went straight to the point. “You spent most… of the day… with him… and then you… slept at his house.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you manage to get any information?”

  “He remembers the young girl in the photo. She was there, at the camp. Her name was Afya.”

  Elaji’s voice was low, it reverberated on the office walls.

  “Afya… what else… did the man… tell you?”

  “She was taken one night… she was with her mother. She didn’t notice anything, the little girl was taken from the main square here in town.”

  “Did anybody notice anything?”

  Claps was focused on Elaji’s face, his wrinkles, his changes of expression.

  “No.” Elaji was impassive, his face was an impenetrable mask. “No-one saw anything.”
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  “What about… the previous days… was there… anybody… who observed… Afya… even from… a distance?”

  “No, I promise, nobody.” Elaji lied again.

  Claps remained silent for a few seconds.

  “Did Abedi… tell you… where the young girl’s parents… are… right now?”

  “In France, but he doesn’t know where.”

  “Did he mention… any other… kidnappings?”

  Elaji didn’t mention the other young girl who had been taken from the camp a few months ago. “He spoke of two girls who were taken in Siena.”

  Claps felt a knot in his stomach – how many victims had the creature killed? How many graves were still hidden in the woods? Would they ever find him?

  “When… did it… happen?”

  “The second one… a few months before my little Ami.”

  “Do you know… anything… else?”

  “He heard some information.”

  Claps was a little nonplussed when he realized that Elaji’s expression wouldn’t change at all throughout the whole conversation.

  “Thanks… Elaji… you’re being of great help… now we know… that Afya… was taken here.” Claps stood up. “I’ll ask… my colleagues… to accompany you… back home.”

  “I’m not going home yet.” Elaji hissed.

  Claps sat down again slowly, he was staring into Elaji’s eyes.

  “Why… why do you… not want to… go back home?… you said that… Abedi… doesn’t know… anything… else.”

  Claps noticed a small, faint wrinkle appeared for less than a moment on Elaji’s forehead.

  “I’m going to Siena. To the camp. Where the man took the two girls. I want to talk to people there.”

  “I… see.” Claps’ eyes narrowed a little.

  “I’ll ask… my colleagues… to accompany you… there.”

  “No, I’ll make my own way.”

  “Okay…” Claps stood up again. “Will you… keep me… posted?”

  Elaji walked towards the door, his eyes were intense. “Of course, yes.”

 

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