The Monster of Florence

by Magdalen Nabb

  The point of his departure for this stalking phase could well be a disco or other locale where young couples collect. To frequent such a place without attracting undue notice the offender would necessarily be of a similar age to his victims. This preparatory period of stalking, choosing and watching the couple until the darkest night of the month made an attack viable, would be an important part of the gratification of killing which would be further prolonged by the enjoyment of the body parts taken away with him and the resulting newspaper articles, TV coverage and investigation.

  Modus operandi—The offender brings his weapons to the scene of the crime and removes them afterwards (see note 1). It is probable, though not provable, that he shoots the male first and the female second. The female victim is removed a little way from the car and mutilated. The male is also attacked with the knife and piercing instrument.

  The ’68 murder shows no hallmarks of a serial killer type crime and it may be that its relation to the murders which followed is that of a catalyst or model for someone connected with this group of people.

  The ’74 murder bears the hallmarks of a teenage—or at least beginner—lust murder of the organized type. The site has been chosen and the weapons brought, but the offender has failed to shoot to kill. His intention, based on long-nursed fantasy, might have been to rape the female victim whether before or after the stabbing but, finding himself impotent, he was obliged to use a vine branch on her instead. The offender is likely to have worked himself up to this realization of his fantasies by the use of drugs. A person in a normal state would be unlikely, however frenzied, to have inflicted as many as 96 stab wounds. The attack made on the dead man with the knife and puncturing instrument suggests his anger is directed equally against the male, but the blows being confined to the trunk and neck suggests a fear of contact with the male sexual zones (see note 2).

  The murders from ’81 onwards suggest a more clearly established rite. The problem of impotence on the scene of the crime is resolved by the removal of body parts which can be “enjoyed” in safety and leisure. The cooling-off period between ’74 and ’81 could be caused by fear, especially if the offender is very young or has been approached by the police for some reason. However, this is mere hypothesis since the offender may have been absent or confined for other reasons or have temporarily fled the area for fear of arrest.

  The sending of a cube of flesh to one of the investigators after the last crime could be due to the fact that the victims were foreign holidaymakers camping in a secluded spot and might not be missed. It could also be that he hid the bodies to give himself time to announce his crime in this sensational way. In either case, the time of death should be double-checked in view of the condition of the female victim’s body. It appears that the German victims of ’83 were murdered at the exact same period of the year in the same area and left in the enclosed metal container of their camper without any such deterioration in the cadavers.

  Absence of clues at the scene of the crimes indicates that the offender worked with care and forethought and was not courting arrest. On two occasions, ’82 and ’83 when the plan went awry, the killer abandoned the scene without mutilation of the bodies. It was essential for him to be in total control of the situation and he could not deal with any reaction (’82) on the part of his victims, who must be defenceless and die without being aware of the attack. The reaction of the ’82 victim caused him to flee without checking that the man was dead. In fact, had he been found sooner he might well have been able to identify his attacker. The offender had, by then, consumed the bullets loaded into the pistol but could quickly have dispatched his victim with the knife. He was clearly panicked by loss of control and by human contact, probably eye and voice, with the victim. This would have destroyed his fantasy image of himself as all-powerful, his victims succumbing in silence.

  The attempted flight of his last victim does not appear to have had this effect. It is probable that there was no eye or voice contact and a fleeing, naked, wounded victim fitted in well enough with the fantasy not to destroy it.

  Although his last crime was followed up by direct contact with the investigators (other communications received cannot be proved genuine), the addressing of the package to an investigator by name—the only woman to have worked on the case—indicates that the killer took an active interest in the investigation and is highly likely to have made personal contact with the police and/or returned to the scene of the crime on occasions to observe police activity. This behaviour is so common with this sub-group of serial killers as to render the strategic placing of telecameras at the scene during investigation routine.

  Diagnosis—Non-social organized lust murderer.

  Background—Economically and culturally poor, probably rural–the excision of the body parts shows signs of the flesh being lifted from the body before cutting, in the way that animals are skinned. Background of domestic violence and of excessive physical punishment in infancy and childhood.

  Probable childhood offences: stealing, truancy, cruelty to babies or infants, torture of animals, persistent lying. Lack of mother or mother substitute to establish affectionate behaviour patterns. Negative rapport with father or father figure.

  Adult profile—Extremely low self-esteem. Deep-rooted feelings of impotence caused by ill-treatment in childhood and adolescence. Lying and conciliatory behaviour in the face of stronger characters or authority caused by fear of aggression. Accumulated anger and resentment well masked by superficial friendliness. He will have to develop a keen sense of what anyone stronger than himself and/or in authority requires of him and to appear to provide it, through lying if necessary.

  Enjoys appearing innocuous whilst nursing his hidden fantasy made real in which he is all-powerful. His lust killings are about power rather than sex. His own sex life need not be particularly abnormal, but long-lasting affectionate relationships are difficult for him. He will prefer sex with prostitutes whom he can consider his inferiors because they are social outcasts and in his pay. He appears to have a fear and hatred of homosexual tendencies in himself which may or may not have a basis in reality. He is likely to seek companionship among people even weaker and less successful than himself, such as drug addicts, prostitutes, vagrants, who will alleviate his sufferings caused by low self-esteem. Normal intelligence but underachiever. Constant use of awl or screwdriver as a weapon indicates that he is almost certainly an unskilled manual worker. He will be inconstant in work and often unemployed. He probably has a criminal record and will have spent brief periods in prison for theft, arson, drugs, detention of arms, even armed robbery—probably unsuccessful. He will be interested in his physical appearance, in clothes and cars in an effort to boost his self-image.

  The offender will undoubtedly have followed the enquiry closely through the newspapers and television and may have tried to insert himself into the investigation as a witness or informer. The preparatory stalking and the following of the investigation prolong the gratification of his desire for power and revenge which inspires the crimes.

  Whilst the serious trauma causing the original damage to the offender is most likely to have occurred in infancy and may be buried too deep for conscious memory, it is likely that it was reawakened or reinforced at some point during adolescence. There will probably have been some negative exposure to sex at an early age, causing anger and resentment.

  The lack of connection between killer and victim makes proof in these cases hard to find and is limited to the physical. However, when a killer of this type is pinpointed, the invasion of the real world into his fantasy world is likely to break down his defence system and a confession usually results. It should also be noted that, despite the time lapse, physical proof in the form of body parts should still be sought. They are taken so as to help the killer relive his crime and are often photographed. Cf. John Christie in whose home four sets of pubic hair, neatly waxed, were found stored in a tobacco tin. They did not match the bodies of any of his known victims. These proof
s are more likely to be found than the gun because the offender will like to keep them near him. However, if he does not live alone he must necessarily have access to some private location where he can store and enjoy his trophies. In this case the gun will probably be stored in the same place.

  1. The use of the firearm in this type of murder is highly unusual. However, Ed Kemper did use a gun since he always attacked two girls at a time; he then removed their bodies for mutilation.

  2. The targeting of the couple is unique. This and the weapon suggest a reenactment of the ’68 precipitating crime. Otherwise the subject should be checked for possession of pornographic material which might have inspired this anomalous choice.

  “Digested all that, have you?” Ferrini asked.

  “Yes … But then, all three of them …”

  “I know. All three of them hated their father or father figure, all three of them lost their mother, all three of them did some thieving and were inconstant at work. What’s more, they all at some point collaborated with the investigators. And the only thing we can do now is to start all over again reading Romola’s report and pick out every single reference to each one of them until one of them emerges clearly and the others fade out because something doesn’t add up—and added to this description are some plain facts which are more up our street. We have to show that he could have got hold of Silvano’s gun, we have to explain the gaps between sixty-eight and seventy-four and between seventy-four and eighty-one and, what’s even more difficult, understand why he stopped—I remember a case I was on once …”

  The Marshal didn’t try to interrupt him. He didn’t get annoyed at his smoke-filled office. Now that Ferrini was back he could function again. He felt calm and sure. As Ferrini chattered on he divided up the Romola report between them and prepared three sheets of paper each with a name at the top. He wasn’t consciously thinking about it but somewhere inside himself he knew they were going to find the answer, however long it took.

  They talked a lot as they worked that first evening, exchanging questions mostly.

  “Why do you think Silvano suddenly lost his grip and put himself in a psychiatric ward?”

  “Had the killer told him he’d used the sixty-eight gun to murder?”

  “Could he just have been terrified of exposure as a homosexual, an exposure he’d gone to enormous lengths to avoid?”

  “Did he screw up on the German murder just to get Flavio out of prison?”

  By the second evening they were exchanging answers.

  “There, look! He botched the shooting in seventy-four but then he worked on it—and he was smart enough not to practise with the famous Beretta or we’d have had him years ago.”

  “No, we wouldn’t. Things would have gone just the way they did.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  “There could have been more episodes of arson; we only know about the one that was reported.”

  “And there you have his obsession. How we missed that the first time round I don’t know.”

  “I do. I’m no hand at jigsaws and in this one you have to work out whether the piece belongs at all before you start looking for where.”

  “Every case is like that.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  “There are gaps, though,” Ferrini pointed out. “Things we don’t know.”

  “But nothing that we do know that eliminates him. We’ll fill in the gaps … if we’re allowed to.”

  “The thing that convinces me most,” the Marshal said, “is perhaps the only thing we can’t prove. That it was his car on the scene that night. Nobody will ever be able to prove it but I know it. The car of his fantasy world. By day he was an out-of-work labourer chugging around in a little utility car like the rest of us. But by night …”

  “Clever, these FBI birds. They don’t explain the famous bloodstained rag, though.”

  “I don’t think,” the Marshal said, “that anybody ever told them about it. Silvano was off the scene by then. In any case, we do know the most baffling thing: why Silvano didn’t turn a hair when they found it and why he said, ‘There might be bloodstains but there can’t be gunpowder.’ Do you remember how that left Romola perplexed? The gun had been stolen years before and that bag presumably wasn’t where he kept it when he still had it. The killer must have hidden it there after the seventy-four job and then taken it away with him. The bag obviously carried no message to Silvano in eighty-five. We’ll never get further with it than that.”

  “Will we get further than that with any of it? I mean, have you thought what in God’s name we’re supposed to do next?”

  The task they had just completed was the easy part. What they should do next was much more difficult to decide.

  “Maestrangelo’s our best bet,” Ferrini said.

  How could the Marshal tell him what he had overheard? He couldn’t. And because of that he lied.

  “You may be right. As a matter of fact, he wants me to go over and see him this week. I’ll go tomorrow, drop a hint, see how he reacts.”

  He had no intention of dropping any hints but he was playing for time. He’d think of some other way.

  Ferrini yawned and looked at his watch. “Twenty to three … The things you get me into! My wife’ll divorce me …”

  When he’d gone the Marshal gathered up the papers on his desk and locked them into a drawer. After that, he sat still a moment staring at the map, wondering at the strangeness of things.

  Their checking of the document had been scrupulous, slow and precise. On the point that “If you check, you check everything” the Marshal was immovable. But somehow or other he must have registered all those tiny things the first time round because, however dark and tortuous the road, he’d known where it was going to come out.

  “Guarnaccia! Come in, come in, take a seat.”

  The Marshal, hat in hand, sat down. It wasn’t his way to let his feelings show on his face, but the Captain at once looked at him hard and asked, “Are you all right?”

  “Oh, yes. Yes, thank you. Perhaps a little bit tired.”

  “I was told you came to see me the other day—”

  “Yes. Yes. You were busy with someone and I had to leave … Simonetti and so on … I’m sorry. I imagine you were wanting some information on that letter about the painting?”

  “No.” The Captain seemed more embarrassed than annoyed. “It wasn’t that. I was just wondering … I heard you found some evidence yesterday …?”

  “So it seems.”

  The Captain’s eyes were more than usually watchful. “Another anonymous letter, I gather.”

  “Another one, yes.”

  It wasn’t the Marshal, but the Captain who seemed to want to test which way the wind was blowing, but what did he want? Was he trying to find out where the Marshal stood, what he believed? Was the expected reprimand to come from him, not Di Maira?

  “Ferrini and I were both at the scene of the crime in Galluzzo,” the Captain said, the grey eyes still watchful.

  So was he afraid the Marshal would blow the whistle? How could it be that this man he’d trusted for so many years could suddenly be so … dishonourable. Because that was the only word for it. And hadn’t he said himself yesterday that people don’t change to that extent, not at his age?

  “I shouldn’t have got you into this.” The Captain got up abruptly and went to stand at the window. With his back to the Marshal, he repeated, “Both Ferrini and I … Didn’t he say anything to you about it?”

  Ferrini had said plenty, that very morning when it was announced that both the soapdish, whose contents had proved so useless, and the sketch book, whose notes had led nowhere, were in fact vital clues. According to an anonymous communication just received, these two objects had been stolen from the camper of the two young German victims at Galluzzo.

  “He never set foot in the blasted camper!” raged Ferrini. “Never set foot! Simonetti’ll never get away with this—there are photographs! That van was only
an improvised camper. When they had the bed down every piece of junk they had in there was under it. If he’d wanted to get at any of it, he’d have had to climb over the bodies, move them and lift the blasted bed up. For a soapdish! Like as if—and if he’d wanted a silly souvenir there was a suitcase full. The suitcase they’d propped the door open with to get some fresh air while they slept. It was on the ground where it fell when the killer opened the door to shoot. Not even open—and another thing: there’s the search report; I wrote it. They didn’t have so much as a pencil, a rubber, a crayon, inks, colours, sketches, nothing! So why should they have had, Jesus Christ, a sketch book? He’s got a nerve!”

  “Yes,” murmured the Marshal now, “he did seem to think it a bit unlikely.”

  “I’d hoped … I’d hoped that you and he might have—Listen, Guarnaccia, I shouldn’t say this but I’m going to …”

  Which remark coming from the man known to all journalists as “the Tomb” was pretty startling.

  “When we had to make a choice of men for this job, the Colonel had no intention of giving up his best investigators, given what I imagine you by now have understood to be the circumstances. He was right, of course, but still, I didn’t like it. I still don’t like it. We’ll be tarred with the same brush, you know, if all this blows up in their faces.”

  “Yes.”

  “So I came up with what you might well think was a foolish idea. The Colonel hadn’t been here long, you see.”

  “No.”

  “He knew all our important investigators but there was a lot he didn’t know, people he didn’t know or even notice. People who had a certain experience but whose careers didn’t really indicate it. You and Ferrini, you see, appeared to fit the Colonel’s requirements. Ferrini was pushing paper about in an office. You were over at Pitti. I’d no business to do it, of course.”