Five Urban Stories

by Thomas Dalcolle

  I walked back to the car, and she followed me in silence. I opened with the remote and got in. Sofia entered from the passenger door and finally spoke.

  “I was late, and I forgot my cellphone at home. When I realized it, I couldn’t go back to take it. I reached Colli Albani square with the underground, I walked, and entered the Caffarella from the children's playground, and then I trekked along a pathway to here.”

  “You must be crazy walking at night in the middle of this abandoned park.”

  “Don’t worry about me. Let’s go to your villa now; I need to warm up and to drink something strong.”

  She looked nervous, tense, as somebody who’d faced a hard time and was trying to relax.

  I switched on the engine and drove back towards the Appia, following Latina road. The Latina road ended in a small street which ran for a short while in parallel with Appia road and then joined with it.

  I thought of the name of that unimportant small street: Via dei Cessati Spiriti, the road of deceased spirits. More than souls of dead men, that name recalled a more complete and frightening form of death: the annihilation of whatever might still exist after the body perished.

  Once more I wondered about the reason for our appointment, and what Sofia had to tell or ask me so urgently and secretly, but I decided it was better to take her home and give her the time to relax. Only then I should have talked and asked her some questions.

  I feared that she’d confessed her possible guilt and insisted on asking for my silence, or worse sustaining her alibi, I couldn’t imagine how. It would have been a dilemma. What would one do in such a situation?

  Had I accepted her request, becoming an accomplice in Fulvia’s murder, merely because of my responsibility in engaging them in that foolish sex game?

  Or should I mislead her, promise my help, and then report everything to the police?

  I drove in silence towards the villa. I always liked that retreat for its isolation. The isolation made it an ideal place for personal meetings. Nobody could see us reaching it, unless they knew about the small access path that departed from the provincial road and led inside a thick wood to an automatic metal gate. And no one could see from the main street that the house lights were on when I was inside it.

  But tonight, all those qualities that made it a secluded, romantic resort, only worried me.

  At a point, when we left the Appia road and climbed the hills toward the villa, Sofia took a small white paper bag from inside her purse, opened the passenger window and threw it out. It disappeared in the middle of the vegetation at the side of the road.

  “What are you doing? Do you want someone may fine me for dirtying the street?”

  “The street is empty, and nobody is following us. Who do you think might fine you? A squirrel agent?”

  “What was that thing?”

  “It was only a paper bag with the remainders of a sandwich I had this morning at lunch. I couldn’t finish it, and I forgot it inside my bag. The smell was disturbing me.”

  I didn’t reply. I only hoped that once in the house she would end all this foolish behavior.

  For me, she wanted to get rid of something that might create a problem if I, or someone else, had found it inside her purse. I made a mental note of the place.

  If she wanted to hide something from me, she’d made a mistake. I might come back to search, and I could find the white paper bag. Unless it contained some food for real. In that case, the wild animals would have taken it and ripped it to eat the food, then they would also have eaten the paper.

  When I finally entered the small lateral pathway leading to the villa, I stopped at the gate and reached for the remote control inside the dashboard closet.

  “Be careful that nobody is inside waiting for us,” said Sofia in a low, steady voice.

  “What? Who should be waiting for us here? Who knows that we are here?”

  “Calm down! I said nothing to anybody. Even my cousin wasn’t at home when I left. But stay alert. There might be someone watching. Who knows?”

  “You must explain to me what the hell is happening tonight,” I almost shouted. But as I looked around carefully, I felt a chilling sensation.

  “I will explain to you everything when we are inside the villa.”

  Then she opened her purse and showed me a switchblade knife which lay inside it. “Take it before getting out.”

  That made me shiver with fear.

  “If you are sure we are in danger here, why have you asked to come here tonight? It’s better we go back to the city, we go to a bar, and we talk.”

  “No, no, I'm not sure of any certain danger here. It’s just a crazy idea; you know I’m scared. But I want to stay with you tonight. Please, just take the knife, park near the entrance and let’s get in. After that I shall be fine, don’t worry. I will explain everything to you.”

  I tried to overcome the sensation of threat.

  I parked the car very close to the entrance door; I left the lights and the engine on, then we jumped out at the same time. I reached into the niche of the power switch in the wall near the door, and I turned it on.

  The entrance and garden lit up. Nobody seemed to be around. I opened the door in a rush, and I let Sofia in, closing the door behind her. I jumped inside the car again, switched off the engine, took the keys, and I locked the car with the remote.

  In a few seconds, I was inside the villa with Sofia, and I blocked the door from inside with the security stake. Now, nobody could enter from there. Even with a copy of the keys.

  Sofia seemed back to normal now.

  I tried the opening mechanism of the knife, and it swung open with a sharp sound. It was a well-balanced professional knife, with a blade of about ten centimeters. It was a lethal object, in the right hands.

  “Now you must tell me who is scaring you so much,” I told Sofia, pointing the knife towards her.

  “Close that knife, it is not a toy.”

  “I see it.”

  I closed the knife and handed it back to her. Sofia opened the purse, and I let it fall inside. “Since when are you going around with a professional knife? Is this tied to Fulvia’s accident?” I asked.

  “Yes, it is. But let’s drink something. I will tell you the whole story now, don’t worry. Please, switch on the heating system, I'm cold tonight.”

  For the first time that night, I felt at ease. I was in control, there in my place, and I thought I could satisfy my curiosity, finally.

  But, in an utterly weird way, I also felt deeply attracted to Sofia. She wore a pair of tight black trousers and a black leather jacket that made her sinuous shape alluring

  “Let’s go to the kitchen,” I said. “I’ll prepare something to eat. Is red wine okay with you?”

  “Yes, but only make soup to warm me up. I’m not hungry at all. And light the fire in the fireplace. I will be all right.”

  I prepared everything in a few minutes.

  We sat near the fireplace where some big wood logs burned at full pace, hissing, and crackling, and after the soup and two full glasses of Chianti, she said something.

  “Shall we have a hot bath before going to bed?” she asked as if teasing me and probing my desire.

  I nodded.

  “The game is over, my love. But I want more,” she began in a low, almost threatening voice, watching the fire. “I always wanted to finish up like this, only me and you, but not in this way.”

  “Explain that to me.”

  “Do you still play tennis, my love?”

  “What?”

  “Come on! I know you were a ranked player, you, tasty treat! Do you want to refresh my memory on the meaning of deuce?”

  “Are you fooling me?”

  “Come on! Tell me. Or you want I stop, and we have our bath and then we make love? To remain comfortable with your doubts? Maybe, taking me home tomorrow and never call me again?”

  “Please, don’t talk nonsense. I want to know what’s happening to you.”

 
“Then, tell me what deuce means,” she asked again turning her face towards me, and staring at me in silence.

  I sighed, surrendering.

  “Deuce means a condition of balance in the scoring. It happens when a game goes to the advantages, but none of the players prevails by scoring two advantages in a row. When they get an advantage for each, the scoring is deuce, and the advantages’ count starts again from zero. Until either of the players gets a double advantage, winning the game. It may last for long if the two are playing at the same level.”

  “In theory, it could last forever. Couldn’t it?”

  “Well, only in theory. In reality, the stronger player, the one who succeeds in keeping the concentration without losing temper and commit unforced errors, will end up winning.”

  “Okay. You thought you had pushed two girls playing your special game, and you thought to be like the advantage, blessing one or another. And you wished the game never ended: an endless sequence of deuces.”

  She paused. I didn’t want to say anything, hoping she came to explaining the facts.

  “But you were wrong,” she resumed, “you were the ball, and the game was enjoyable for us, much more than for you. Up to a point.”

  “What happened then?”

  “Well, actually it was more complex than two players and a ball. Have you thought Fulvia remained alone while you were dating me? Or, vice versa—that I remained alone waiting for you to come back when you were dating Fulvia?”

  I felt a veil fall before my eyes, allowing me to see what I had vaguely doubted a few times.

  Since the night when that Marco had called on Sofia’s phone, I was sure she was entertaining multiple relationships, but I had never suspected about Fulvia.

  “And which was the real game, then?” I tried to ask that as gently as I could.

  “There were two balls in play. You and another one. Our game was proof of extreme ability, like two tennis players using two balls in a training session. They hit the balls in sync, the balls cross flying above the net, bounce in the playground, then both players hit the incoming balls, making them fly back in opposite directions, again and again. Without forcing the shots, just staying in sync, as long as possible.”

  “A foolish game. We were all fools.”

  “Yes, but it was so exciting! Until when one of the balls got crazy. The other one, not you.”

  “That Marco?”

  She didn’t reply, just sipping more wine.

  “What happened?” I asked again.

  “He lost his mind for Fulvia. He didn’t want to let her go once again, nor to come back with me. He confronted her, and the things got out of control.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Fulvia was keeping me informed of everything. As always. I knew they had a date that evening. Marco wanted to clarify the situation.”

  “Or you were with him,” I added, “trying to settle everything but…you’ve been the one who lost control and hit her…”

  “Think as you like!” she replied with a controlled tone of regret, staring at the fire with sullen eyes. What I can say is that she was my dearest friend, a sister, and I would never hurt her. But now it’s over, we can’t do anything for Fulvia.”

  “If you know everything, why don’t you call the police and tell them the story?”

  “I don’t want to get involved. The police will do their job all the same.”

  Then she stared at me with a piercing glance and added, “You keep your mouth shut on our game, or you’ll put yourself in trouble! When they call you, keep yourself vague and easy, just admit you had an on-again relationship with Fulvia. You have an alibi for that evening, and you needn’t fear anything if you don’t pull me in the game.”

  “Otherwise?”

  “Why should you involve me? You’ll put yourself and me in trouble without reason. Believe me! I warn you! You will get stuck in trouble for nothing.”

  “How? And there’s still a killer around. You must tell the police what you know!”

  “You’ll understand. That one won’t harm anybody again, and we, we can’t do anything any longer. Now, stop talking, and let’s relax.”

  *

  In the large bathroom near the main bedroom, there was a Jacuzzi for two. Sofia always loved it.

  Waiting for the Jacuzzi to fill, we undressed slowly, while I continued to think in silence, watching the vapor rising from the sizzling water surface.

  What was I doing?

  Somebody had killed Fulvia, the girl I really loved, and I was here with the woman who was likely present during the fact. She might even be the one that had killed Fulvia. It was clear that she knew too many details, and I suspected her more than ever.

  And what was I doing? I was naked with her, ready to make love with her. And, at the same time, I was scared of her, confused and disgusted by the whole story and by myself.

  When we entered the Jacuzzi, Sofia wanted to sit behind me. She massaged my back and then kissed my neck.

  I relaxed but, all at once, she clutched me firmly passing her strong arms under my armpits and clasping her hands behind my neck.

  Meanwhile, she grabbed me firmly with her thighs around my waist, leaving me breathless, and she pushed hard behind my neck, causing my chin to press on my breastbone. It was almost impossible to breathe for me, and, under Sofia’s pressure, my face was gradually dipping toward the water surface.

  I was almost fifty, and Sofia was about twenty years younger than me. She was a tall woman, athletic, and I knew she attended the gym nearly every day, while I hadn’t exercised for a long time. I felt her strength would overwhelm me.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I muttered with a strangled voice through the tightened teeth. “Leave me, for God’s sake! I can’t breathe!”

  She chuckled from behind my back as if she enjoyed making me beg for mercy.

  “I could kill you; you know?”

  “Sofia, leave me! Please!”

  “Ah, ah, ah! You weep like a girl,” she sneered releasing her grip. “I was joking! Silly you! Calm down, now.”

  As soon as she loosened her hold, I jerked towards the opposite side of the Jacuzzi, massaging my neck.

  “Joking? That’s a hell of a joke! You must be out of your mind; you almost broke my neck!”

  “Uh, uh, uh! Little girl, stop weeping. Sofia doesn’t want to harm you, don’t worry.”

  While saying so, she stretched her arms towards me, with a sweet smile. “I’m sorry to have scared you. Forgive me, come on, and let’s make peace. Come, give me a kiss my love.”

  Now that I had recovered and I could breathe normally again, I felt a pang of blind rage mounting inside me.

  I wasn’t in good shape, for sure, but I was still fast and, avoiding a close fight I could hit her hard. I was about to smash her face, to make her pay for having humiliated me by strength and for her mocking that burned even more.

  But at that moment, I realized that a real fight with Sofia would have led to the extreme consequences for one of us; I even doubted she aimed precisely to that by provoking me. So, I regained my self-control.

  I neared her again, obeying her call, hoping this creepy meeting would soon end. I swore within myself I would never call her again, while I couldn’t avoid the numbing effects of her kisses. Then our bodies took full control of us. Or better, her body took it.

  When we got to the bed, she got every drop of my juice in a sequence of unrelenting assaults.

  “Come, my love,” she whispered. “I want to get pregnant of you. You make my sex open like a blooming flower when you’re inside me…”

  I shivered, thinking Sofia felt toward me that same compelling thrust I had felt for Fulvia.

  At the end of that, I was emptied and exhausted: she had taught me the meaning of a dead spirit.

  We fell both asleep.

  We got up soon because Sofia was on duty that morning. She asked me to leave her at the underground stop of Largo dei Colli Albani.

>   When she got out of the car, before closing the passenger door, she leaned towards me and said:

  "Listen to the Regional News Broadcast. I think you’ll hear something about Marco. You know which Marco. If you're smart enough, you'll understand why you're better to keep your mouth shut and never call me again.

  “And, one last thing: I wasn't with you last night. I was with my cousin in a remote area of the city. My phone was with me, and I have several witnesses.”

  Then she closed the door and walked away quickly.

  I remained baffled for some seconds.

  I drove for a while in that horrible, traffic congested, south-eastern end of the capital, until when I could park the car near a bar. I entered and took an espresso to help me get rid of a frightening sensation of unreality.

  Back at the car, I switched on the radio, and I searched for a local news broadcast. I waited, listening to loathsome pop music hits, interspersed with the idiot talks of the disk jockeys.

  Finally, the well-trained voice of the reporter began his litany. The third story was about a homicide inside Caffarella Park, near its eastern border.

  Early in the morning, a jogger had found a man's body lying on the ground behind the Cisterna of Ninfeo.

  He’d been stabbed: a single blow to the heart inflicted with a blade about ten centimeters long.

  A professional stab, apparently. The victim's name was Marco Salimbeni, a thirty-five-year-old employee of a ministry who regularly went running inside the Caffarella Park. The killing hadn't any obvious explanation, and the police were investigating.

  My mouth was dry, and I tried swallowing, but I got nothing except air. I felt myself sinking into the car's seat while the bits of memory rearranged themselves to form an explanation.

  Sofia had arranged everything carefully. She had avoided showing up with me, she hadn't used her car, and she hadn't carried the phone with her.

  On the other side, she’d done everything to involve me. I had been there with my car and my phone and, almost certainly, while the killing was happening.

  My presence there had been already tracked and recorded in several databases: the one of my telecom provider, the one of the car's navigator, and that of my car insurance, which controlled my car's GPS.