The Haunted Inspector

by Claudio Ruggeri

  4

  The silence of the station did nothing to reduce the concern of the two officers; once seated, face to face, in Germano’s office, not even the deafening siren of a passing ambulance could distract them.

  “That mobile was on the move way too much last night, Vincent.”

  “Go on.”

  “At 21.40 it was on a road in the Grotte Celoni district of Rome, then at a service station on the ring road, near the Appia-Ardeatina exit at 22.20, then it reached the centre of Ciampino at around 23.10. Finally, the signal was transmitting from the Tuscolo area at midnight, and continued to give out a signal until a few hours ago, at which point it went dead.”

  “Maybe she was meeting someone in Grotte Celoni; that’s where we should start. Have you already had a look to see if any of the girl’s acquaintances live around there?”

  “I’ve checked the most frequent contacts. She made calls and sent regular texts to a device owned by a guy called Matteo Mengoni, twenty-seven, single, works in a transport company and lives on his own in Grotte Celoni.”

  “Ask him to come in tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Ok, even though his mobile didn’t leave his home until this morning?”

  “The phone may not have moved, but he might have...”

  “Good point, Vincent”.

  As he listened to those last words, the inspector already had his phone in his hand, and was dialling Venditti’s number.

  “Marco?”

  “Yes, Inspector.”

  “That Fiat Uno; try looking for it around Grotte Celoni. Take a good drive around there and call me as soon as you find it. Do you remember the number plate?”

  “Yes, I’ve got it all written down.”

  “Ok, good luck.”

  As soon as he had hung up, Detective Parisi was quick to make an observation.

  “Why did you ask him to go there specifically, Vincent?”

  “We’re following the mobile, aren’t we?”

  “Do you already have something in mind?”

  “As I say, my theory is that she’d arranged to meet someone, otherwise it wouldn’t make sense to drive around like that; after all, if you want to go to Ciampino from Castel Gandolfo you certainly don’t go through Rome...”

  “That’s true, so are you thinking that she then got into someone else’s car...?”

  “Not only that, I also think that the whole of the following route was unplanned; the same again applies: if she was going to Ciampino and then to Tuscolo, she would have gone there directly, it would have been quicker.”

  Meanwhile, Germano’s phone started ringing.

  “Hello.”

  “Di Girolamo here, we’ve finished here at the girl’s office. A couple of colleagues told us that she’d been seeing someone for a while, a guy called Matteo Mengoni; other than that, nothing of any note. In any case, we’ve taken down the names and addresses of all of Chiara’s colleagues.”

  “Ok, we’ll have a chat with this Mengoni fellow. Tomorrow morning we’ll take stock of the situation. See you then.”

  “Ok, see you tomorrow, Inspector.”

  “I should carry on looking through the phone records, I guess...” asked Parisi.

  “Yes, Angelo, I’ll call the dog unit now and ask them to go to Tuscolo.”

  “Just ours?”

  “Yes, just the Police unit for now. I don’t know, but I don’t think we’re going to find anything around there.”

  “In fact, the mobile may even have been lost, and stopped sending out a signal when the battery died...”

  Germano made no further comment and dismissed his friend and colleague. He notified Mancuso, the head of the dog unit, asking him to drop by before organising the searches.

  When he arrived, Germano handed him the various items of clothing belonging to the girl, asking him not to mention it to the father. Mancuso understood and promised Germano that he would report back to the station as soon as he returned from the search party.

  Tuscolo is a hillside town in the middle of Castelli Romani and is therefore easily accessible from any of the municipalities surrounding it. There are two asphalt roads leading to the top, with nothing either side, just scrubland and woods popular with mushroom hunters.

  Mancuso spent all night combing every inch of the area and at first light reported back to the inspector. The dogs had found her bag, but there was no sign of the girl.

  “So, Mancuso...I guess there was no sign of her phone either.”

  “Unfortunately not. We’ve got her bag containing her ID and a few personal belongings, but nothing else.”

  “Ok, I don’t think we could have expected much more, to be honest. Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course, Inspector.”

  “In your experience, if the girl was in the area, your dogs would definitely have found her, wouldn’t they?”

  “Definitely. At one point they were going round in circles; there were no trails for them to follow, at least that’s the impression I got.”

  “Hmm...we need to start looking elsewhere.”

  “You know where to find me if you need me, Inspector.”

  “Thanks, don’t worry, I’ll be in touch if necessary.”

  After a quick handshake they both headed for the exit. Mancuso would get a few hours’ rest, while Germano went to the bar; he needed a coffee.

  He had had no more than four hours’ sleep the night before and had been in the office since before six that morning. He had been desperately looking for something to help him get a grasp of the situation.

  Throughout his career, spanning more than twenty years, there had been many an occasion when he had slipped up or followed unlikely leads, but this time it was different; everything seemed so unclear, evasive, where the only lead seemed to be that boy, the one he would be interviewing that afternoon.

  After a quick glance at the papers scattered across a table in the deserted bar, Germano paid for his coffee and lit a cigarette, reflecting on how there was nothing worse than this, waiting around for something to happen.

  He spent another hour shut away in his office, thinking and smoking, when his phone rang.

  “Hello.”

  “It’s Venditti here, Inspector.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I’ve found the Fiat Uno!”

  “Where?”

  “You were right, it was in Grotte Celoni, parked on a residential street”.

  “Perfect, don’t touch anything. Call the breakdown lorry and get the car taken to the vehicle pound for examination. Deal with it yourself and call me as soon as you have any news.”

  “Will do, Inspector.”

  “Thanks.”

  They were actually getting somewhere. Germano waited impatiently for the others to arrive.

  At nine that morning, everyone was present except for Venditti, who was still busy with the Fiat Uno.

  “Right, guys, let’s have an update. I’ve just found out from Officer Venditti that Chiara’s car has been found in the area of Grotte Celoni, properly parked. We should have more to go on in a few hours; Fiorini, you go first..”

  The officer informed the team that there was nothing suspicious about Chiara’s father, a retired pilot with a passion for art; a widower, who occasionally received visits from old friends, no dodgy acquaintances or women. It seemed clear to everyone that he had nothing to do with her disappearance.

  It was then the turn of Detective Di Girolamo, who, along with Officer Pennino, had been questioning all of Chiara’s colleagues.

  “As I informed the inspector earlier over the phone, a couple of them mentioned Mengoni, Matteo Mengoni, but not much else. They say that Chiara is an honest and decent girl, who doesn’t like to be too much of a burden to her father.”

  “We’ve already asked Mengoni to come in this afternoon, and he’s been under observation since this morning”, added Germano.

  At that point, Di Girolamo gestured that he had nothing more to add or suggest, but
the inspector had something else to say: “This morning, the dogs found Chiara’s bag in the scrubland in Tuscolo. Her phone was missing, but the few personal belongings have been sent to the lab. I’m not too hopeful, but let’s see what they come up with.”

  The team started discussing the case among themselves, sharing impressions and theories, still all too vague, when the office phone rang. Detective Parisi, seeing that Germano was busy studying some notes, decided to answer.

  “Inspector Germano’s office.”

  “It’s Venditti here.”

  “Any news?”

  “I’ve got something on the car, the Fiat; I’ve managed to get them to advance some information.”

  “Go on.”

  “The car was unlocked when they picked it up...nothing seems to be missing other than the jack, which should have been in its place in the boot. The compartment was open but there was nothing inside. We’ll have to wait for the report for the rest.”

  “Excellent, I’ll let everyone know, but you go and get some sleep...”

  As soon as he had hung up, Parisi shared the news, noticing that the inspector’s face had darkened. Di Girolamo spoke up almost immediately: “She probably broke down, maybe she went to find help and who knows what happened to her...”

  “Strange, though...”, murmured Parisi, who then continued aloud.

  “Surely she would have called her boyfriend, who only lives a hundred metres from where the car was found. I must call Venditti back before he goes, just one second.”

  The detective dashed to Germano’s phone and dialled the number.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, it’s Parisi again.”

  “Oh, hi...”

  “One last thing, are you still at the pound?”

  “Yes, I was just having a coffee with the guard.”

  “Good, check whether any of the four tyres has a puncture and what condition the spare one is in.”

  “Just a minute...” Parisi waited a couple of minutes, hearing a few voices in the background, then Venditti spoke again.

  “I’m back.”

  “And?”

  “The four tyres are fine, they’re all the same type. They were only manufactured six months ago, but the spare is missing”.

  “What do you mean? Has it been removed?”

  “No, no. Judging by the dust in the boot, it was never put in.”

  “Ok, that’s all, thanks again.”

  “No problem.”

  The team were deep in thought, and it was Germano who broke the silence.

  “It’s possible that the puncture wasn’t hers.”

  “Not hers?”

  “The thing is, Angelo, if you use the jack it’s to change a tyre, nothing else, and seeing as the tyres are ok, then the jack must have been used by someone else.”

  “I guess we can rule out some petty thief breaking into the car...”

  “Definitely. If you break into a Fiat Uno you’re going to take the car itself, or if you do happen to look in the boot, then you take everything. You don’t hang about deciding what might or might not be of use.”

  The phone rang again.

  “Inspector Germano’s office.”

  “It’s Venditti again.”

  “Hi, Angelo here.”

  “They’ve found an envelope under the seat. Inside was a small gift-wrapped item, about the size of a diary, tied with a light-blue bow. There was also a tag with To Matteo written on it. As soon as they’ve opened it I’ll update you.”

  “I’ll let the inspector know.”

  “Ok, thanks.”

  “Vincent, guess what they’ve found...”, Detective Parisi relayed to his superior point by point what he had just heard, but was surprised to see that Germano was still confused.

  “I’ll question Mengoni, what time is he due to arrive?”

  “At two.”

  “Let me know if anything comes up. I’m going home for lunch and I’ll be right back. You all take a break too”, said the inspector, as he dismissed his colleagues, who did not need to be told a second time, all looking forward to a Sunday that in some way might resemble normality.

  Germano made a couple of stops on his way home, one at the bar for cigarettes and the other at the grocer’s; he usually did the shopping on a Sunday.

  He called his wife, asking if they could eat a bit earlier than usual because of the interview that afternoon which would be dragging him back into the office. Arianna was used to this way of life by now and barely batted an eyelid.

  “I also picked up some basil...how about making us some nice, simple spaghetti?”

  His wife had not long cleared the breakfast table; their son Luca tended to wake up late on a Sunday and his mother could not help but indulge him.

  “Dad, you’re back!”, his faint voice could be heard coming from the bathroom, so Germano, trying not to make a noise, walked towards the door and burst in, startling the little boy.

  “Hah, hah, come on, get dressed, we’re going for a walk.”

  “Ok, coming!”

  On his way back to the kitchen he stopped for a couple of minutes in the bedroom; he had forgotten to put the Beretta, dismantled, back into the chest of drawers. He often wondered whether that pistol was still capable of firing, given that it had been years since he had last used it.

  “You look a bit tired, Vincent.”

  “I’m ok, Arianna, it’s just that I haven’t had much sleep.”

  “You’ve got a case on your hands and you can’t get to the bottom of it, am I right?”

  Arianna knew her husband inside out by now. She also knew that whenever he was caught out, he could not help smiling, mockingly, and keeping quiet; she preferred not to rub it in.

  “Are you going for a quick walk with Luca?”

  “I forgot to get the newspapers, so we’ll pick them up and take a stroll at the same time. What about the twins?”

  “I put them in Luca’s room as soon as he got up, they’re asleep.”

  Satisfied, and seeing that his son was ready to go, the inspector got up from the kitchen chair and headed for the door.

  They walked for half an hour or so around the neighbourhood streets; Luca told his father all about his week at school and Germano listened with interest.

  5

  Matteo Mengoni turned up at the station dressed as if he was on the way to a party. No reason for the visit had been given when he was called; the officer in charge had been deliberately vague so as not to forewarn him.

  As soon as his ID had been checked he was accompanied to the inspector’s office, where Germano was waiting for him with a good-natured air.

  “Good afternoon, Matteo, I’m Vincent Germano and...I’m sorry I had to ask you to come in on a Sunday.”

  “It’s not a problem.”

  “You work for a transport company, is that right?”

  “Yes, that’s right, in the accounts department”, the young man conveyed no emotion whatsoever.

  “And outside of work, do you have any interests? Any sports, for example?”

  “No, not really...I kick a ball around with friends sometimes, but I don’t have much spare time after work”.

  “Tell me about it...I’ve got three children but I still find time for a few hobbies; the thing is I’m married, women are a problem...”

  “You’re not wrong there, Inspector...”

  “Do you have a partner too?”

  “Yes, Chiara, we’ve been seeing each other for about six months but...things haven’t been going that well lately.”

  “In what way?”

  “Well, she’s too intense, whereas I tend to be much more laid back, I don’t know...”

  “I know what you mean...have you talked about it?”

  “I’ve tried a couple of times but she doesn’t want to know, she won’t accept that we’re not made for each other.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to leave things as they are for the m
oment, then...”

  “Then?”

  “Uh...well, then we’ll see, I try to lead a quiet life as much as I can.”

  “But is there a problem here?”

  “What problem?”

  The inspector waited a moment before continuing, unsure whether the man facing him was simply ignorant of the situation or a born actor.

  “Chiara disappeared two days ago, her father saw her go out at about nine on Friday evening and there’s been no sign of her since. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m sure you understand that I had to call you in.”

  As the young man took in what he had been told, he was visibly upset; even the colour of his face changed, from bright red to as white as a sheet in a fraction of a second.

  “Believe me, Inspector, I have absolutely no idea where she is!”

  “When did you last...”

  “Wednesday evening, we went to the cinema, then just a few texts. I also tried to call her last night but I couldn’t get through.”

  “On Friday did you just exchange texts or did you also speak on the phone?”

  “A couple of text messages in the morning, but that’s all.”

  The young man was telling the truth: Germano had already checked the phone records. The inspector was trying to take him back to Friday evening, but without much success so far.

  “You know how it is, Matteo, you’re both young, and in these cases the first thing that comes to mind are runaway lovers....”

  “But you’re wrong, I was seeing her, it’s true, but I would never have run away with her, I didn’t love her enough for that.”

  “Why are you talking in the past tense?”

  “Well...the thing is...I’ve been seeing someone else for a couple of weeks, so in my mind things were already over with Chiara.”

  “It’s just that she didn’t know it yet, maybe she was even in love with you...”

  “Maybe she was, but I haven’t seen her since Wednesday night, I swear!”

  “Don’t take offence, but I need to ask you where you were on Friday after nine o’ clock.”

  “At home, Inspector.”