The Haunted Inspector

by Claudio Ruggeri

  “Ok.”

  Detective Parisi took his leave as the inspector gathered up the paperwork. He put it all into a folder and wrote on it 'EXTRA TIME ', convinced that the intuition of his colleague, and friend, would once again lead them somewhere.

  Luca Fazio was appointed to the Colleferro derby, an Under-14s match. That Sunday, the same scene was played out, the only difference being the actors.

  Detective Di Girolamo took his seat in the stands. They were already a few minutes into the game, and Officer Maria Pennino, dressed as a fan, opted to park close to the main entrance, from where she had a perfect view of the walkway outside the changing rooms.

  For a good half hour they enjoyed the spectacle put on by the players, a fast-paced game, strong defending and the score standing at two-all at half time.

  At this point, they should have sprung into action, but no one approached the referee’s changing room. Detective Di Girolamo spent the first five minutes of half time cursing the inspector and his colleague, for having such a ridiculous idea.

  Having now decided to leave, he forced himself to check things out quickly; he would make up some excuse to visit the changing rooms to see if anything out of the ordinary was going on.

  But something strange was indeed going on: a sign had been prominently placed on the door from which the suspects should have been going in and out, and it read 'OUT OF SERVICE '.

  He cursed himself for not entering the stadium until the game was in progress. At this point, the referee could be anywhere and Di Girolamo had not the faintest idea what to do next.

  Assuming that something had probably gone wrong, Officer Pennino had moved closer to her colleague, and on hearing what he had found, she proceeded to take the initiative herself.

  “Excuse me...”, she turned to a man of around forty standing close to her; he looked like someone who was in charge.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m the photographer and I should be taking a few shots for our magazine. I need to ask the referee’s permission but I can’t seem to find him.”

  “Don’t worry, any minute now he should be coming out of that door at the end there, near the bar, where it says 'GROUNDSMAN'.” He accompanied his directions with ample arm gestures to indicate the exact point, adding: “In any case, the referees never take any notice of the photographers...unless they get in the way when someone’s taking a penalty, ha ha!”

  She thanked him and the grey-haired man returned to his seat in the stands, while Officer Pennino felt on her the inquisitive eyes of his wife, seated next to him.

  She stood watch, and a few moments later, the scene that she had imagined unfolded: four young men, including one with long fair hair, left the groundsman’s room. She decided to opt for microfilm; starting to take photos in front of them did not seem to be a good idea.

  Her gaze followed them and she also tried to make out the number plates of the cars they got into, without attracting too much attention.

  Detective Di Girolamo, meanwhile, unable to be of any help to his colleague, chose to sit tight in the stands. He was soon joined by the officer-turned-fan-turned-photographer and without exchanging a word, they waited for ten minutes and then both headed for the exit.

  The following afternoon they all gathered in Germano’s office. The microfilm backed up several suspicions.

  “Good...very good”, said the inspector after his officers and detectives had taken him through all the details. He swiftly moved on to the next plan of action.

  “Tomorrow I’ll ask for all devices owned by this Fazio to be intercepted, as well as his emails. In a couple of days we’ll have something to go on.”

  “How could we tackle it? I mean...if we get confirmation that an exchange is about to take place?”

  “Well, Angelo, we actually have a bit of an advantage. I reckon the exchanges take place at weekends, so we have until Friday to come up with a plan.”

  Officer Fiorini joined in the discussion between the inspector and Detective Parisi: “We have to arrest them all together”.

  “And how do we do that? The drugs, or whatever they’re exchanging, are in the referee’s holdall until half time and in the four men’s pockets afterwards, so it’s one or the other...”, said Pennino.

  “My feeling...”, said Di Girolamo, “...is that we should take the referee, we lean on him and with a bit of luck we might discover something bigger, right, Maria?”

  “Yes, I think so. Fazio has a clean record, and not even previous offenders can take heavy punishment. I mean, if we can make him talk out of fear of an exemplary sentence...”

  “Then all we have to do is pick up the four guys as they’re leaving”, concluded Di Girolamo.

  Meanwhile, both Germano and Parisi were making a mental note of all the observations, trying to spot a significant lead.

  Silent from the start and leaning against a cabinet, Officer Marco Venditti was also taking in all the information but, given the scarce experience of his twenty-five years, he preferred not to contribute.

  It was the inspector who wanted to hear what ideas his shy officer might have.

  “Well...although I’ve only been in the force for a year, I think there’s a way of getting them all.”

  At these words, everyone turned to listen and after a moment he continued: “The only way would be to install a surveillance camera in the referee’s changing room, we film the handover and once we’ve seized the drugs we also arrest Fazio”.

  “That’s true...”, Di Girolamo seemed to be considering this.

  “The only problem would be getting into the changing room”, said Pennino, who went on: “Supposing we only find out about the handover an hour beforehand...” Germano intervened:

  “We do have a small advantage: we’ll already know where he’s going to be officiating by Friday, we could try to install the camera on Saturday morning in the hope that we’ve got the right week.”

  “It shouldn’t be that difficult to work out when the next handover will be, either. We’re bound to get some information out of the interceptions...”, concluded Parisi in support of the inspector’s theory.

  Germano thought for a few moments and then also concluded:

  “Let’s do as follows: as soon as we have the appointment and something from the interceptions, we’ll install the camera. We must arrest the four guys as they leave the stadium with the stuff on them. As soon as they split up we’ll go into action. We already know that one of them gets around on a scooter, so in addition to the three unmarked cars we’ll need a couple of officers on motorbikes, so I’ll ask the Mobile Police Unit at Headquarters for some back-up”.

  The team remained silent as the inspector lit a cigarette before continuing: “Only once the four arrests have been confirmed do we go for the referee, who’ll still be officiating the second half, unaware of what’s going on. We’ll handcuff him in the changing room itself, at the end of the match.”

  “So, we wait until Friday, then.” At Detective Parisi’s words, the team disbanded and everyone went back to what they had been doing.

  For Inspector Germano, it was not exactly a day like any other. On the sixth of April fifteen years earlier he had married Arianna, and he had a small surprise in store to celebrate.

  It had not been easy to get hold of that vinyl record by Barry White; he had been looking for it for weeks before finally giving in and looking online, where within twenty minutes he had managed to place the order, make the payment and even arrange delivery.

  He would wait for his wife to come home before switching on the turntable; the American singer’s voice would fill the room, they would dance, alone for a few minutes, just as they had done on the night they first met.

  Germano tried, often in vain, to avoid getting too involved in his work; not because he was shallow, but in order to preserve the side of him that was still innocent, ingenuous and light-hearted, the part of him that was tested to the limit every day, when his work reflected the darker side of mank
ind.

  3

  There were two pieces of news awaiting the inspector the following Friday, one good and the other very bad.

  Around midday, a man of around sixty, quite short and grey-haired, came into the station. He was a retired pilot who could not get hold of his daughter.

  “Let’s start from the beginning, signor Clementi.”

  “Ok, Inspector.”

  “When did you last see your daughter, Chiara?”

  “Last night, at around nine. We’d had dinner and then she went out.”

  “Did she say where she was going, by any chance? And with whom?”

  “She mentioned a colleague, but she didn’t say anything about where she was going. I thought she was probably going to a local pub.”

  “How old is your daughter?”

  “Twenty-nine.”

  “Have you already tried calling her workplace?”

  “Yes, it was the first thing I did this morning when I realised that she hadn’t come home. They said she’d taken the day off...but I knew nothing about that.”

  “Where’s her office?”

  “In Ciampino, it’s a service centre where they keep the accounts for several companies.”

  Germano pictured a date with a man, and as it was only midday, it was probably not yet over.

  “Does your daughter have a boyfriend?”

  “Not to my knowledge, but I’ve noticed that she’s been acting differently over the last five or six months. Sometimes I’ve happened to overhear her talking on her mobile and...it doesn’t sound as if it’s one of her girlfriends on the other end...”

  “I’m sorry I have to ask this, but have you had any arguments recently?”

  “No, not at all. Since Lucia, my wife, died four years ago, we’ve become even closer. Sometimes we have our differences of opinion, but our disagreements always end with a smile.”

  “Don’t worry, signor Clementi, I’m sure that as soon as she wakes up...I mean...”

  “Yes, yes, I understand, Inspector.”

  “Right, well...I’m sure she’ll call you soon.”

  “So, you’re saying that I shouldn’t be worried?”

  “I don’t think so, but in any case, as soon as you get home, try to find out the name of this chap, and we’ll rap his knuckles for you...”

  They shook hands as Germano tried to hide the strange feeling that was creeping over him. He tried to suppress it as he showed signor Clementi out.

  He decided to focus on the referee. He checked online but the weekend’s appointments had not come out yet.

  Just as he was picking up the phone to call his wife, Detective Parisi walked in.

  “Are you coming to lunch with us, Vincent?”

  “Um...yes. I just need to have a quick chat with my wife and then I’ll be there. Are we going to da Luciano?”

  “Yes...we’ll wait for you outside in the car, then.”

  The restaurant da Luciano was in the old part of Frascati, with breath-taking views from the terrace. It was the favourite haunt of Germano’s team.

  “As soon as we get back I want to check the referees’ appointments” said Di Girolamo, once he’d finished his antipasto.

  “I had a look a little while ago but nothing yet”, replied the inspector, adding: “The sooner we know, the better, because the way I see it, the operation’s going to involve quite a few officers, including some from outside of our station. Everything has to run smoothly, I don’t want any surprises.”

  Everyone around the table nodded, including Parisi, Fiorini and Venditti, who then updated the team: “We’ve been sorting out surveillance shifts for that pawn shop that Finance flagged up. Over the next fortnight we’ll photograph anyone who goes in or out. Let’s see if that turns up anything.”

  “Perfect, Marco, I’m glad that you’ve all managed to sort out your own shifts. You’ve saved me the job...”

  Officer Venditti smiled in slight embarrassment, before returning to his steaming plate of lasagne with renewed vigour.

  Half an hour later, they all stood up smiling, ready to return to work, in a completely different mood from the one that was to follow a few hours later, when Germano called them all into his office urgently.

  A few seconds later, in a grave voice, he brought them all up to date with the developments. “I have some terrible news: a young woman is missing. Her name is Chiara Clementi and she’s twenty-nine. Here’s a photo.”

  After making sure that everyone had a copy, he continued: “Her father came to report her missing half an hour ago. He also came in this morning, but the situation didn’t seem that serious initially. He hasn’t seen her since last night at around nine o’ clock. He thinks she went out with a friend, but I’m not convinced.”

  “Sorry, Vincent”, interrupted Parisi, asking where the woman worked.

  “At the Dedra di Ciampino service centre, but she’d taken the day off today. I don’t think her absence is voluntary, though. We need to act fast.”

  The team looked at one another, wondering whether the inspector might have some other information that was leading him to believe that something serious had happened. But that was not the case; Germano usually shared everything with his colleagues, in fact even he could not work out what was putting him so on edge.

  He cleared his throat and went on, turning to Detective Di Girolamo.

  “Giulio, you and Pennino get over to the service centre quickly. It’s almost six, call ahead right now and ask everyone to stay put until you get there. Question everyone and get hold of the full list of staff.”

  “And if they ask why we’re in such a hurry?”

  “Don’t panic them. The news isn’t out yet. Tell them that it’s easier for us to go there than to track them all down one by one tomorrow. As for the reason, keep your lips sealed.”

  Germano then turned to Officer Fiorini.

  “Valentina, you concentrate on the father. Try and find out as much as possible, anything you can...”

  “Ok.”

  “Angelo, you, meanwhile, contact the phone company. Get hold of all the records for Chiara Clementi. Also try to find out the location of her mobile over the last fortnight, then email devices and everything else; and Marco...”, Officer Venditti looked up on hearing his name.

  “Yes, Inspector”.

  “You can focus on the car, which has also disappeared. It’s an old Fiat Uno, with number plate RM2476P. It’s dark grey and shouldn’t be hard to track down. Call me as soon as you find it.” Officer Venditti nodded, and Germano continued: “I’ll go to the Clementi home and try to find out a bit more about Chiara, but first I need to notify the dog support unit. I’ll also contact the Carabinieri and the Finance Police. Their dogs might also be useful.”

  “The dogs...”

  “Yes, I think we’re going to need them. So we can all concentrate on the girl.” Germano then dismissed his team, asking them to keep him informed of any developments.

  After two quick phone calls, to Captain Vanni at the Carabinieri and to Inspector Terenzio at Finance, the inspector headed for the Clementi residence.

  The apartment was on the second floor of a Liberty-style block in the old part of Castel Gandolfo. Only Chiara and her father lived there. Germano could not help but notice the sheer splendour of the building, although signor Clementi did not come across as the bourgeois type.

  He answered the door, guessing who it would be; they exchanged a brief smile and sat down in the lounge.

  “I’m sorry, signor Clementi, but we need your help with a few more things.”

  “Not at all, Inspector.”

  “You see...I’m a father too, although my eldest isn’t even nine yet, but he can often surprise me.”

  “In what way?”

  “In the sense that when he looks sad or pensive I try to ask him a few questions, to see if I can get to the bottom of what’s bothering him, but then when he does open up, the truth can actually be light years away from what I’d imagined.”<
br />
  “Do you suspect that Chiara is hiding something from me? Something bad?”

  “I don’t know yet; I just want you to be aware that we will have to look into your daughter’s private life; in these cases we need to carry out a thorough investigation, even though some parents think this is unnecessary.”

  “I suppose there’s no point in telling you that we have nothing to hide...”

  “I know that, signor Clementi, don’t worry.”

  “So you’ll help me find her...”

  “Of course.”

  At that point, Germano could not help embracing Chiara’s father. Not daring to imagine himself in the poor man’s shoes, all he could do was comfort him for a few seconds. They both sat down again.

  After a few moments of deafening silence, the inspector tried to pick up the thread of the conversation.

  “I would like to take a look at your daughter’s room, if I may.”

  “Of course, please do.”

  “I’m afraid I’ll also need to look inside a few drawers; Chiara may have kept a diary and with a bit of luck things might become a lot clearer.”

  The head of the household led the inspector to his daughter’s room without responding, and then returned, downhearted, to the lounge.

  A quarter of an hour or so later, Germano came out holding some notebooks and a diary. Signor Clementi, assuming how they could be of help, showed the inspector to the door. They shook hands firmly, and Germano had to draw on all of his skill and experience to try and give some assurance to the person facing him.

  As soon as he was back in the Alfa, his phone rang. It was Detective Parisi, waiting to give him the first update.

  “The last signal was sent from the mobile two hours ago from the road leading to Tuscolo”.

  “Hmm...”

  “This is all sounding too strange, Vincent. Don’t call the dog support unit just yet; I’ll see you back at the station.”

  “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  After letting his wife know that he would not be home for dinner, Germano drove back to the office, mulling over Detective Parisi’s words. He hoped that he was mistaken as he looked at the T-shirt and jeans that he had taken from the Clementi home; he had hidden them under his jacket and now stared at them on the passenger seat.