Germano began observing that the course of the water went slightly over toward a bend, to then disappear back into the vegetation.
“If you want we could also go check it out, chief ...”
To that question the old man didn’t get anything but a refusal, made clear by the cop’s slight rocking motion of his head. In fact, Germano had already deduced how the current of the water ran and that trip would not have added anything new to what he already had figured out. Furthermore, it was very unlikely that anyone who had been attacked or who had been taken ill would have had either the time or the idea of writing a message in a bottle.
It was highly improbable, therefore, that they would be able to find any material evidence in the midst of those woods. However, there was something they would be able to do, but not from there.
“Ok let's go,” the chief said, and with a big wave of his arms invited both his colleague and their host to go back to the squad car.
“Are we leaving, chief?”
“Yes indeed Giovanni, I have already found out all that could have been discovered.”
“And that would be?”
“That would be nothing. However, I thank you for having guided us this far.”
The old teacher, as a result, headed off, leading the two policemen towards the woods. Inspector Parisi, once Giovanni was a few meters ahead, took the opportunity to talk to the chief.
“No doubt about it, Vincent. This guy is a real character, perhaps as a young man he even wanted to be a policeman ...”
“Yeah, I think so, too ... ah ... though now let’s take him home.”
“And then?”
“And then what Angelo?”
“I don’t know. Usually when you say that it means that we, instead, will be heading somewhere else ...”
“Exactly, we'll be going to the Land Registry office.”
This time, the short return journey was much quieter than the prior one. All three were silent during the whole trip. Even the dog never barked, as if sensing the atmosphere. When they reached the house, they let Giovanni out and thanked him for his help.
Without saying anything, inspector Parisi put the squad car into first gear to leave, already knowing in advance their next destination.
Chapter 3
The Land Registry offices for the province of Rome, where all the real estate properties in the area were registered with their respective owners, were located in an old building built during the Fascist era. Its structure and dimensions left no doubt about this particular fact.
As soon as they entered, the two policemen were approached by an attractive young brunette dressed in a blue outfit who continued to stare at them with a sardonic smile on her face.
Guessing its meaning, Germano decided to speak up.
“Good morning.”
“And good morning to you...”
“My name is Vincent Germano and...”
“And ...?”
.”.. and I’m a police chief. I need to talk to whomever manages the archive.”
“I understand ... if you wait for me here I'll go right now to ask.”
“Take your time.”
Germano, in noticing the sudden change of expression on the face of the girl, was surprised that he had not been recognized before, not so much because he was so well-known in the area, but because one of the things that they were always reproached for in his line of work was precisely their inability to look like an ordinary person. In fact, one glance was enough to understand he could only have been a policeman.
After a few minutes, the chief, leaning against the doorway of the main entrance, noticed a rather elderly gentleman come out from behind a door located on the opposite side of the lobby to where he was, motioning them to come closer.
“Please come this way.”
These words were followed by the usual introductions and to their descent leading into the archive.
“I’m Luigi Peduto, I’ve been working here for the past forty years ... I apologize for my colleague, she’s a bit young and ...”
“Yes, indeed. I’m afraid she took us for two timewasters, given the way she was looking at us.”
“That’s strange, however, since one can see a mile away that you are two cops ... oh, excuse me chief, that slipped out.”
“Don’t worry about it, but let’s see if we can pick up the pace a bit, hmm ...”
Having descended four flights of stairs, the three entered a small office from which, through the glass that enclosed it, you could see a good part of the archive.
“Chief, if you want you can sit here while I go and look for what you need. If I’m not mistaken, you’ll want everything around that little stream, correct?”
“You’re right Peduto, but focus mainly on the southern area, that part above the stream.”
“No problem, please wait for me here.”
Germano, not overly optimistic, gave him a nod.
Just as he had feared due to the archive’s enormous size, the wait lasted more than half an hour, during which time the two policemen listened a bit to the radio and gave a quick look at the newspaper resting on the wobbly desk.
The clerk was very diligent. He found the topographical maps of everything located around that spring within a one kilometer radius.
Luigi Peduto, in delivering the massive amount of material to the chief, explained that their investigation would have to take place elsewhere because, if they were placed one next to another, the maps would cover the entire surface of a normal apartment. Therefore, it followed that it would be impossible for them to work at the Land Registry offices.
Keeping the large quantity of papers under their arms, the two officers thanked him and walked toward the stairs. Once they reached the lobby, they again met the brunette who this time, instead of a mocking smile, gave them a mortified and embarrassed look.
“Where are you thinking of examining them, Vincent?”
“These Angelo?,” the chief asked, indicating the maps.
“Yeah...”
“We’ll take them to our office, I think that in the end we’ll need only a few, you'll see that there won’t be any problems, but meanwhile let’s get a move on ...”
“If you say so...”
Not even an hour after getting in the car, Germano and Parisi were already examining the maps that interested them.
They had chosen the wall to the right of the chief as a work area, even if in reality it was perpendicular. Paintings, photos and various images were temporarily relegated to the office floor.
The entire wall was covered with strange symbols and numbers which could be interpreted, perhaps, only by the Land Registry’s old archivist.
At that point, the chief took out his notebook. In fact, he had asked Mr. Peduto to prepare a small symbol reference key since he had anticipated potential errors in interpreting those maps.
Inspector Parisi, at Germano’s suggestion, had the other members of the group come into the room who, looking each other in the eye, trustingly awaited whatever the chief would have to say.
Germano, after greeting them but continuing to peer into his notebook, began to circle certain points on the map in red.
“Here ... these three points indicate areas in which we are interested.”
“Excuse me, chief ...”
“What is it, Piazza.”
“Why have you put circles only to the left of the river?”
“Because, from what I could see when I was there in person, to the right of the little stream there’s nothing but weeds and undergrowth, so it would be better to concentrate on other areas.”
“Excuse me if I insist ...”
“Go on, Piazza.”
The conversation, however, was abruptly interrupted by the phone ringing. Consequently, Germano was forced to pick it up.
“Hello.”
“Hello, chief, this is Silvestri from the laboratory.”
“Good morning, go ahead.”
“I wanted
to update you on the outcome of the analysis of the plastic bottle that you gave me an hour ago ...”
“Yes...”
“There's actually very little to say ... it was in the water for only a few days, so the label had not even become completely unglued. We didn’t find anything special inside, with the exception of the usual things one could find by analyzing river water.”
“I see ... so we can’t find out what it was used for before it became a message bottle ...”
“Well ... probably the mineral water that was in it had been drunk and nothing else was contained in it.”
“But ...”
“Don’t ask me anymore, chief. A DNA examination is useless and above all I don’t think that that object was ever material evidence of a crime.”
“Very well, Silvestri, then ... there’s nothing left for me to do but to thank you for your cooperation.”
“Anytime, chief.”
As soon as the phone was hung up Germano turned back to inspector Piazza, trying to catch up where they’d left off.
“Well . . .”
“We were talking about why we shouldn’t look on the right side of the river, chief ...”
“Ah ... I was telling you, it’s better to focus elsewhere, precisely on these three points that I have circled. Unless I have misunderstood the different symbols, these should be three estates that stretch from the spring to the point where the bottle was found.”
Everyone there approached the wall when Germano pointed to the first circle from the top. Meanwhile, Angelo Parisi had sat down at the computer getting ready to look for all possible information regarding those estates.
“There should be a sports center in this area, right Angelo?”
“Just a second ... yes, it’s a country club called Orchid, the owner is a certain Alfredo Mecenate, no criminal record. The center was opened in the early nineties and has never had any type of problem.”
“Good, Angelo, in a few minutes I’ll call the owner and I’ll ask him to let both you Venditti, and you Piazza, to work in his center for a while, I was thinking for a maximum of about ten days. I guess you can disguise yourselves as workers, waiters or something like that to justify your presence there. I only want you to try to find out if something is going on and to keep me posted, ok?”
Both policemen, having listened to their orders, responded with a nod.
“What about this other circle, Angelo?”
“One moment Vincent ... here, it’s a private villa that stretches for almost 3 acres, the owners appear to be a Ferdinando Rocca and his wife, but ...”
“But what?”
“They are both deceased, Vincent.”
“Ah, when exactly?”
“The husband Ferdinando six months ago, while his wife Laura has only been dead a few weeks.”
“I understand ... okay, let’s go to the last circle. So, who owns this piece of land?”
“Cloistered nuns, Vincent ... ... since 1910 ...”
Sensing the chief’s thoughts, Fiorini and Pennino, the two female officers, began exchanging worried glances.
“Well” said Germano, .”.. even cloistered nuns will have someone who communicates with the outside world, right?”
The two agents began to shake their heads, but the chief didn’t lose his enthusiasm.
“Anyway ... now I’ll try to talk to those deal with this and ... after all, I mean, it could be a learning experience ... don’t you think so, Pennino?”
“Oh God, having to dress up as a nun was not exactly on my mind when I signed up for the police.”
“We’re only talking of at most a couple of weeks, I swear.”
The two policewomen feigned a smile and accepted reluctantly, but first, officer Fiorini asked a question.
“But what exactly should we be looking for in the convent, chief?”
“Double check to see if there is anything more than the monastic life going on in there, something that can lead a person to talk about death and to desperately ask for help by writing a note, and then sending it off in a bottle.”
“Ok, but... one last thing.”
“What is it, Fiorini.”
“How will we communicate with you, chief? I mean, it’s a cloistered convent, I don’t think they can use cell phones, much less the Internet.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll talk with their Mother Superior about that later and we’ll find a way.”
“If you say so ...”
“I said not to worry... trust me.”
After explaining to his team what to do, Germano was finally alone with his friend Parisi. However, before they could manage to talk, the phone rang.
“Hello.”
“Good morning chief, I'm calling from the technical office regarding the calligraphic analysis. You had asked for one ...”
“Yes, yes, that was me.”
“Well, from the little that one can read it seems that our man was in a big hurry when he wrote that note.”
“Excuse me, why did you say man?”
“Because it’s a man’s handwriting ...”
“I understand, go ahead.”
“Nothing more, that’s really all there is. However, we were careful not to touch the paper too much, just in case you might have wanted to do a scientific analysis.”
“I'll think about it. But for now, thanks.”
“No problem.”
After hanging up, Germano briefed his colleague Parisi on the meager news and awaited his reaction.
“If that's the case, Vincent... I think it’s useless to send Fiorini and Pennino into the convent, I mean ...”
“I know Angelo, but right now we have too few paths of inquiry to be able to already exclude some of them, so let’s give it a try.”
“Okay, but what are you and I going to investigate?”
“The third possibility.”
“You mean the dead spouses?”
“Right, start gathering information. We’ll meet for an update again tomorrow.”
The chief’s evening was miserable. He was forced to walk in pain due to the sudden inflammation of his sciatic nerve and he had no appetite. He was also told off several times by his wife Arianna for having decided to conduct that investigation that seemed like such a waste of time. Germano went to bed, and he could hardly wait for the next morning.
Chapter 4
The next day began in the worst possible way. There was no more coffee and in addition the chief needed several minutes to get out of bed as his sciatic nerve gave the distinct impression of not wanting to be disturbed.
He dressed in a hurry, or rather, at the maximum speed that his physical problem allowed him to. He decided that his wife should drive him to the office that day.
When he got there, his colleagues were already at work. Through the venetian blinds, Germano noticed that his friend Parisi was waiting, comfortably sitting in the office of the chief himself. This rather unusual situation being the case, he decided to enter immediately, postponing his first coffee of the day until a bit later.
“Hey Angelo, you got here early this morning, didn’t you?”
“Actually, you're the one who’s late, Vincent ... but why the limp?”
“Damn sciatic nerve, it’ll pass.”
Let’s hope so ... anyway I have here in this dossier all the information that you asked me about yesterday, about the Rocca couple.”
“Well, what do we know that’s interesting?”
“Who shall we begin with? Who died first?”
“Yeah ... let's start there.”
“Ferdinando Rocca was a wealthy landowner, in addition to the villa which he had nearby there are at least five others, scattered among Tuscany, Liguria, Salento, Umbria and London, as well as various agricultural land in Italy and Argentina.”
“I imagine he was living on their income.”
“You guessed right, Vincent, in fact in his tax returns there isn’t anything besides the income from the various properties. I che
cked with the Financial Police early this morning.”
“Well, how he did he die?”
“Heart attack. It seem that his wife found him dead one morning six months ago when she woke up.”
“Why did you say it seems?”
“Because in reality it isn’t specified very well in the coroner's report. To be honest, it’s not even required to mention very much, after all Rocca died of natural causes, like it happens to many others.”
“I understand. At what time did he die?”
“Between 10:00 pm and 11:00 pm on December 27, at least that’s what it says.”
“OK, let’s move on to the wife.”
“Laura Grassetti, her married name Rocca, fifty-two, was married at twenty-two to her only boyfriend, in effect Ferdinando Rocca, she had a university degree in Humanities, no children and was quite well-off. I guess you want to know how she died ...”
“Yep.”
“Suicide, Vincent, as we told you yesterday; 15 days ago, while you were on vacation. We were called by the gardener of the villa who was screaming into the phone that his mistress had thrown herself off of the balcony.”
“Who was sent, Angelo?”
“Venditti and Pennino, later Di Girolamo went for fingerprints but there wasn’t much to investigate.”
“Are there any photos in that file that you are holding Angelo?”
“Here they are, have a look.”
The photos that Germano had in his hands showed a middle-aged woman lying, almost as if she were sleeping, on the asphalt of the driveway of her home. There was blood all around, however, which told of a woman tired of life, who one morning gets up, crosses her bedroom and throws herself from the third floor.
Germano, as he flipped through the photos, was more and more convinced that perhaps the story was not exactly as told to him by his friend and as indicated from that dossier.
“Angelo, have you already looked at these pictures?”
“No, I'm looking at them now with you.”
“Then look at this one ...”
The chief pulled one from the pile and turned it around on the table so that Parisi could see it well.
After a few seconds of silence, Germano resumed the conversation.
Never More Than Twice Page 2