“Alone?”
“No...with Gloria, the other girl I’m seeing. I asked her over for dinner and she stayed until midnight or so.”
Germano had suspected as much having seen the records. The only thing he could not work out was what Chiara was doing that night so close to his place. He asked Matteo one last question before dismissing him.
“Did Chiara ever like to surprise you? I mean...was she someone who was quite predictable or the opposite?”
“Yes, she was always surprising me, she was an expert at it...”
Matteo Mengoni expressed that last phrase with a hint of melancholy, before saying goodbye to the inspector and going home.
At this point, Germano was convinced of two things: firstly, that there would be no point in continuing to investigate the boy, and secondly, that Chiara had probably gone to Matteo’s place that night with a gift, the one they had found in the Fiat Uno, to surprise him. Perhaps she had realised that things were not going well and was trying in any way she could to stop things from slipping away.
One thing that Mengoni had said, between the lines, was certainly true: they were indeed opposites.
What he had to work out was what had followed, supposing that something had happened before she had managed to buzz the boy’s intercom, or, realising what was going on in the apartment, she did not buzz and left instead.
Judging from how the Fiat had been parked, at least according to Officer Venditti’s description, Chiara had been planning to stay for some time; she was definitely going to Matteo’s and certainly did not end up seeing him.
Germano had to call Detective Parisi; he would do it that evening, to see if anything new had come out of Chiara’s emails or any other interception.
That Sunday afternoon, before going home, he reviewed Operation EXTRA TIME; it seemed as if everyone was keeping quiet, as if someone had cottoned on that they were being watched or, possibly, there was simply nothing illegal going on.
This would mean that Angelo Parisi had got the wrong end of the stick, but to someone who had known him for years, this seemed highly unlikely.
For most of the week everyone had been getting on with routine paperwork. Office Venditti continued to keep an eye on the pawn shop; as it was at the centre of a possible case of receipt of stolen goods, the work had to be meticulous, with nothing left to chance.
No progress could be made in relation to Chiara’s disappearance for the moment; the dog unit were combing every inch of woodland in Castelli Romani, in the hope, or fear, of finding something.
That Thursday morning, Germano seemed a bit too tired to his colleagues, even too tired to go to the bar for a coffee; the twins had kept him awake all night.
So Detective Parisi had two excellent ristretto coffees delivered to the station, which they sipped in silence until the detective’s mobile rang.
“Parisi...yes, I see...give me the address.”
Germano did not know what the call was about until his friend, having written something down on his notepad, turned to him.
“It’s started ringing again.”
“What has?”
“Chiara’s mobile, but with a different SIM card!”
“Get it intercepted!”
“Already done, a guy is using it, and they’ve even located him.”
“Where?”
“In San Cesareo, in an area where there’s just some kind of ranch, looks like horse stables.”
They were both already on their feet at the last exchange of words; they were undecided as to which vehicle to use, and after a couple of glances, got into a Delta and drove off at speed.
As they approached the ranch they reduced their speed, so as not to attract attention; they drove through the gate and continued along the track.
“Vincent, to find out who it is, we should call the phone so that we can hear it ringing...”.
“Let’s do the following. Using my American accent, I’ll pretend to be a horse lover interested in buying one, and you can be my interpreter or something; we can use this as our excuse for meeting as many people as possible. Just remember to keep calling that phone number whenever we’re with anyone, and hopefully a phone will ring...”
“Who shall we start with?”
“The guy coming towards us now...”
No sooner had the two officers driven through the gate, a man promptly came out of a cottage; he looked like a guard.
“Can I help you?”
“Oh yes...”, Germano tried to pretend that he could not remember any Italian, so that the man would focus all of his attention on him. That way, Parisi would be able to dial the number without being noticed; his phone was in the back pocket of his jeans with the number already in the memory, so all he had to do was press one of the keys.
The inspector continued talking for ten seconds or so, half in Italian and half in English, until the man interrupted him.
“Excuse me a moment, I just need to answer the phone, it won’t stop ringing...could you wait a minute?”
“No problem”.
Germano immediately looked for confirmation in the eyes of Parisi, and once he received it, they both followed the man to the cottage, staying a couple of metres behind him.
Rinaldo Veroli had been the guard at the ranch for more than five years; he ran everything himself, from feeding the horses to dealing with the tax returns.
He was not immediately aware of what was happening and his expression only changed once he saw the two men follow him into the cottage and close the door behind them.
“I’m Police Inspector Germano”.
“Everything’s in order! I put everything through the books!”
“I said Police, not Customs and Excise...”
“Oh...well, what do you want then?”
“Can we sit down, please?”
“Yes, of course.”
At that point, Germano let Detective Parisi speak.
“What’s your name?”
“Rinaldo Veroli”.
“Right, well we’re actually interested in that phone there...”
The guard then relaxed slightly; he picked up the phone and showed it to the detective, adding that he had bought it a few days earlier, second hand from a childhood friend of his, called Roberto Colantoni, who lived in the area of Vermicino, near Frascati.
On hearing this, Germano immediately intervened.
“There’s nothing to worry about, signor Veroli. I just need to ask you not to mention our little chat to anyone. If you do, we’ll find out, make no mistake.”
The guard gestured with his arms, as if he were making a solemn oath.
As soon as they were back in the car, Germano picked up the radio.
“Operations department.”
“It’s Germano here.”
“Yes, Inspector.”
“I need to know where a certain Roberto Colantoni lives, in Frascati.”
“Just a moment...there’s no one listed by that name in Frascati.”
The inspector thought for a few seconds and then continued: “Try Rome, restricting the search to Rome-South”.
“Found him, Via Tuscolana, between Frascati and Rome.”
“Well done, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“One more thing...can you see if he’s got a record.”
“One second...yes, for theft, fraud and receipt of stolen goods.”
“Perfect.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes, that’s all, thanks.”
Germano, turning to his colleague Parisi, who was already in the driving seat, repeated the address he had just heard over the radio. The detective started the car and they left.
Along the way the inspector checked that his regulation gun was unloaded; over the many years of his career he had found that in some cases and with certain people, the temptation to use his weapon could be uncontrollable.
“What do you think, Vincent? Is the girl there?”
“I don
’t think so.”
“Maybe he wants to wait a few days before demanding a ransom?”
“Who from? The father? He has a good pension and some savings, it’s true, but he’s not exactly an obvious target for ransom money.”
“Shall I ask for some back-up?”
“Not yet, just let them know where we’re going.”
“Ok.”
Detective Parisi had learned over time not to ask too many questions; what his colleague was thinking and the various explanations would eventually come out when the time was right; although sometimes the facts often spoke for themselves.
“Here we are, this is the place.”
“Right, park up and we’ll walk from here.”
The entrance was not visible from the main road; in order to reach it they had to walk down a dirt track for around fifty metres, at the end of which stood a derelict house, surrounded by a hedge a couple of metres high and with a rusty gate which, left half-open, made their access easy.
Both men moved cautiously, checking the entire perimeter of the house; from the ground floor they could hear mumbled voices, similar to those on a radio; the decrepit door looked easy enough to open and so Germano started the countdown on his fingers and burst in.
“Police, nobody move.”
In the middle of the only room was a double bed, off which a naked woman leapt screaming, and at the sight of the guns she covered her eyes and continued to scream.
The two officers, distracted for a few seconds, did not realise at first that there was a man on the other side of the bed, semi-naked and with his hands up, begging them not to shoot.
“Roberto Colantoni?” asked Germano, as he put his gun back into its holster.
“Yes”, the youth replied immediately in a trembling voice.
“Don’t worry, we haven’t come here to shoot you.”
Meanwhile, Detective Parisi was studying the girl, who was now leaning against the wall; from her features she looked as if she might be Eastern European, nothing like Chiara. What amazed him most was that Germano was not paying her the slightest attention, not even for an instant, as if he already knew that she was not the girl they were looking for.
“I’ll tell you anything you want....”
“I’ve been informed by a colleague of mine that recently you’ve been ripping people off with mobile phones...”
“What mobile phones? I haven’t even got one myself...”
“In fact, you’ve actually been stealing them...”
“No, no, you’ve got it wrong!”
The inspector, still pacing the room nervously, waited a few moments before continuing.
“So you really don’t remember anything about a grey iPhone? About a week ago...”
“No, no, nothing at all!”
At that point, overcome by frustration, the inspector grabbed Colantoni by the hair, looked him right in the face and, inflicting on him the smell of the coffee he had drunk shortly before, still present on his breath, continued: “A girl has gone missing you ugly son of a bitch.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about...”
“I know, you wouldn’t have the balls for anything like that, but you did have her mobile and I want to know where you got it from.”
“I can’t remember.”
The force on his small amount of hair increased, almost causing Colantoni to cry with the pain.
“Ok, ok, I found it on the ground.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“What I mean is...it was almost on the ground, it was inside a handbag that I found thrown away near Tuscolo. I didn’t steal it, I swear!”
Germano released his grip. He was almost hoping that this two-bit thief was involved in some way, but he had to accept the fact that they were barking up the wrong tree.
6
The next day the whole team working on the case of the missing girl was brought up to date on the latest developments; nothing significant had been discovered in the woods in Tuscolo, nothing that could lead the investigation in any particular direction.
Detective Di Girolamo was the first to ask a question.
“So, Inspector, that petty thief has nothing to do with the rest of it?”
“No, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t. That evening he must have spotted Chiara’s bag as he was passing that area and must have stolen the contents. The time he said he passed that area fits with the point at which the mobile stopped giving out a signal. He said he took it after throwing the SIM card away, so someone needs to go back there and look for it... Marco, can you do that?”
Officer Venditti stiffened before nodding in assent.
“I know it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack but we must at least give it a try; the contacts in her phone could be useful, and I’ve also asked for a copy of the records for any landline phones that Chiara was using, so we can also have a look at those.”
“Just one thing...”
“Yes, Angelo.”
“Do we need to do any more work on the car?”
“Not for the moment, it looks as if Chiara went to pay an unplanned visit to her boyfriend. The gift found in the car seems to confirm this.”
“And if this happened to be a diversion?”
“In what sense, Angelo?”
“Well, I mean...supposing someone took Chiara’s car to Grotte Celoni on purpose? Maybe to make us think that Mengoni had something to do with it?”
“That’s also a possibility, but if that were the case, the culprit would have to be very familiar with the details of Chiara’s private life; let’s start looking at her closest contacts and go from there.”
“Ok.”
“That evening, the mobile emitted two other signals after Grotte Celoni and before Tuscolo, one is close to a petrol station, I think, whilst the other came from Ciampino; Giulio, can you follow this up with Officer Fiorini.”
“Ok.”
“Get the details and see what you can find out.”
Before everyone stood up, Detective Parisi spoke again.
“One last thing...”
“Yes, Angelo”
“Fazio has been appointed for a match on Sunday.”
“Ah, yes, our referee friend...where?”
“In the municipality of Frascati, at 11am, Frascati is playing against Genazzano, so what’s the plan?”
“Intensify the surveillance activity; if we go there we have to make it a sure hit, no mistakes; if you get any results, let me know; in the meantime I’ll warn Headquarters, as we’re going to need at least two officers from the Mobile Police Unit.
“Ok.”
Germano, once left alone, took from his drawer the diary that he had taken from Chiara’s room a few days earlier; he wanted to comb through it in search of something, a clue to stop him fumbling around in the dark.
He spent all afternoon on it, still thinking about her entries as he walked his dog that evening; he tried hard, but could not find anything out of the ordinary.
The following morning when at home, being a Saturday, he asked Arianna to take a look as well; maybe a woman’s eye would be able to interpret it better. His wife reported back to him that evening over dinner.
“I’ve read it...that diary...”
“Already?”
“Well, there wasn’t really much to read, she made a note of things she had to do, the odd appointment, as we all do.”
“I saw a few other things too...”
“Nothing much to speak of, Vincent, she wrote about wanting a family and wanting to be an actress, the kind of thing everyone writes about...”
“Was there nothing that particularly stood out to you?”
Arianna met his gaze with a shy smile, before replying.
“No, I’m afraid you’re going to have to look elsewhere my dear Inspector...”
She stood up slowly and started clearing the table, leaving her husband staring at the floor in silence for a few moments. At that point, they both heard one of the
twins stirring in the other room and, as he stood up to go to them, he felt his wife’s tender touch on his back; it was her way of supporting him, of silently telling him that losing heart would not be the best strategy.
That evening in early spring the inspector was too exhausted to take his dog, Black, for his usual evening walk. After taking his son to his room he chose to see what was on the TV, and after a bit of channel surfing, ended up watching the Serie A game between Milan and Roma.
It turned out to be a gripping match, so he lit a cigarette and decided to end his evening watching twenty-two men running after a ball.
With just a few minutes left before full time, the home telephone rang and, guessing that it would be for him -who else would it be for at that time of night- he let his wife answer.
“Vinnie, Vinnie, it’s for you...”
Germano turned the TV down and picked up the phone in the lounge.
“Hello”
“Good evening, Inspector...it’s Di Girolamo”.
“Go ahead.”
“Tomorrow is Sunday...”
“Right, we’ll meet at the station at six thirty, let Pennino, Fiorini and Venditti know. I’ll contact Detective Parisi.”
“Perfect, see you tomorrow, then.”
“Yes, see you tomorrow.”
That tomorrow is Sunday meant that their friend the referee had made arrangements for the next day, as must have emerged from the surveillance; Germano would listen to it all calmly the following morning.
He turned off the TV and started to look through his phone list; the first person he needed to call was Parisi.
“Hello.”
“Angelo, it’s me...”
“What’s up, Vincent?”
“Di Girolamo called, about the referee...”
“Do you mean that tomorrow is the Sunday we’ve been waiting for?”
“Precisely.”
“What time are we meeting?”
“I’ve told Di Girolamo six thirty, but you and I will meet a few minutes earlier for a coffee.”
“Ok, see you tomorrow then.”
“Yes, see you tomorrow.”
The second person he needed to call was the coordinator of the Mobile Police Unit at Headquarters.
“Hello.”
“Sorry to call so late...it’s Inspector Germano speaking”.
“Yes, Inspector...”
The Haunted Inspector Page 4