Never More Than Twice

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Never More Than Twice Page 6

by Claudio Ruggeri


  “You guessed right, chief ... let’s go, follow me.”

  Once they reached the place they were looking for, Dr. Piccirillo was provided with all the tools he needed to be able to do his dental examination and was then left alone to work.

  Germano walked away without saying a word and he remained in the company of the refrigeration room employee during those long minutes.

  Only a few clichés were exchanged between the two. The chief, too nervous to be able to think, didn’t do anything except continue to look at his shoes; while Brisa, realizing that it wasn’t at all the case to ask too many questions, occupied his time arranging some files in a filing cabinet.

  Piccirillo, with a bitter smile on his face, peered into the room where the two were; Germano tried to make him comfortable.

  “Well, doctor?”

  “For what technology can ...”

  “Doctor...”

  “I understand ... that’s Ferdinando Rocca’s body.”

  At those words even Brisa, quiet and distant until then, looked up at the dentist with a look of surprise, was now about to say something but the chief spoke first.

  “Brisa ...”

  “Here I am.”

  “Take us now to the place where a body was placed that was recovered the night between December 2nd and 3rd last year, for which death was listed as occurring from natural causes, a heart attack, I believe.”

  The employee began frantically leafing through his archive until he found that to which the chief was referring, then he jumped up and led the two to the other wing of the refrigeration room.

  As soon as the body was shown to Dr. Piccirillo, he could not mask the disbelief that took him by surprise; he brought his hands to his mouth while standing there in silence. He too was beginning to understand.

  Indeed, the two bodies recovered and stored at the institute at least demonstrated an abnormal similarity between them, this one could notice even though the body recovered nearly six months before was not in excellent shape.

  Germano’s cellphone rang.

  “Hello.”

  “Vincent it’s Angelo!”

  “I was just about to call you; I have news for you ...”

  “Good, I hope ...”

  “We were able to put a name to a body recovered a few weeks ago.”

  “Better than nothing ... as far as the train goes, we decided to proceed as though it were an old West style train robbery. We’ll stop it in the countryside north of Rome before it gets near Terni. Then, with some excuse, we’ll get on board to check each of the passengers; we have his face imprinted in our minds, he won’t get away.”

  “Be careful, however, he may have even changed some of his characteristics to not be recognized ... try this, pay particular attention to all men in their forties who are travelling alone.”

  “Ok Vincent.”

  “Wait Angelo, there’s more news, call Piazza and Venditti and have them come here to meet me; I need them here before eleven.”

  “Ok.”

  “Tell them to come directly to the refrigeration room; I'll be here waiting for them.”

  “Ok ... one more thing, Vincent ... the phone here is becoming increasingly hot ... is there anything new in terms of evidence?”

  “Not yet, but we are one step away.”

  At that point, Germano knew how much of his credibility, and perhaps even something more, was riding on what would happen during the next two or three hours; he was raising a huge uproar even though he didn’t yet have anything concrete to go on. In spite of everything, he tried not to think about it and went out for a smoke.

  Gianni Piazza and Officer Venditti reported to the chief at ten-thirty sharp. With a bit of a mocking smile, the inspector allowed himself to ask Germano for some more news, hoping thus to appease some of his curiosity.

  “Don’t worry,” answered the chief. “We just need to interrogate someone, the guy who will be on at eleven, his name is Duccio Martinelli.”

  “And what would this Martinelli have done, chief?”

  “I’ve a pretty good idea already, but it will be he himself who will tell us exactly, my dear Piazza.”

  “I understand ... how ...?”

  “I don’t know that yet, nevertheless it's time to move, let's wait for him in the locker room. That's where he’ll be before starting his shift.”

  Duccio Martinelli showed up on time, five minutes before the eleven pm already stamped on his card and he was heading toward the locker room.

  Humming, he opened the door wide that accessed the cramped room where every worker had their locker.

  He was not too surprised to find three people trying to talk to each other; the thing that did alarm him were their faces, unknown, but with the expressions of those who were not there by accident.

  The sound of footsteps behind him confirmed his feeling.

  “Duccio Martinelli?”

  “Yes...”

  “My name is Germano, I’m a chief of police.”

  “Hello, do you already have some body to deliver to us tonight?”

  “Really no. Today we are more interested in someone who is still alive ...”

  “Someone...”

  “You understand perfectly well who I'm talking about, Mr. Duccio Martinelli.”

  “I...”

  “Is there a place where we could get comfortable and ask you some questions?”

  “I know the law, chief! I cannot be questioned without my lawyer.”

  “That’s true, but that is only when someone is suspected of a crime ... not when you're just a witness informed of the facts ... and I think you are very well informed about certain facts.”

  “Alright, let's sit down in these chair.”

  The four utilized, in addition, an old iron desk as a support. They all sat down except Germano, who remained standing, leaning against the wall.

  He was the first to speak.

  “What we are aware of, Mr. Martinelli, is that something very unpleasant happened on the night between the 2nd and 3rd of December last year.”

  “I would need to check to see if I was on duty ... you see ...”

  “It was you that night, Martinelli. We have already saved you the trouble of checking.”

  “Ah ... it's been a long time, I ...”

  “No Martinelli, something like what you did no one would forget, not even after six years, I believe.”

  “And ... what did I ...?”

  “Let's just say you did a favor for a friend.”

  “A friend?”

  “Do you know Andrea Grassetti?”

  “Yes ... we’ve worked together in the past, a few appearances at some country fairs, but nothing more.”

  “What did these appearances involve?”

  “As you know ... I guess you know what the former trade of Andrea was, right?”

  “Of course we know, tell me the rest.”

  “There’s nothing more. He liked to put on these magic shows during village festivals. He said that he loved playing the illusionist; I used to go with him because I was unemployed at the time ...”

  “He’s an illusionist?”

  “Right, chief, and he was good, too.”

  “I don’t doubt it ... except that playing with dead bodies is a bit risky, if at the end the trick goes wrong and they find you out and you end up going to jail ...”

  “I don’t know anything about these things.”

  “You’re very clever Martinelli, but your ...”

  Germano’s sentence was interrupted by the ringing of his cellphone; therefore, the chief went out to answer it leaving Piazza and Venditti the daunting task of getting something out of the mouth of their unusual interviewee.

  “Hello.”

  “Vincent, it’s Angelo.”

  “What’s up?”

  “A few minutes ago the Police Judiciaire called me from Paris. They said that setting up such an operation at an airport is not something that is simply routine ...”

>   “That's obvious.”

  “Yes, but first of all they would like to have your final confirmation and then, of course, something written that they can rely on.”

  “They’ll have it very soon. Now listen, you try to gain some time with the French and wait until I call you back to give them the final confirmation and ... how is the train matter going?”

  “Rather good Vincent, four squad cars with ten men are already on their way; in a half-hour they’ll get to the appointed place and prepare for the raid.”

  “Well, let's not let this Andrea Grassetti get to France. If we catch him directly it would be much better.”

  “Yes, Vincent, I'll keep you updated with all the developments! How are things going for you? Any news?”

  “Nothing special, Angelo. We are interrogating a certain Duccio Martinelli who works here in the building. Nothing is happening, however; he must have realized that we don’t know anything after all and I don’t believe he’ll talk.”

  “But sooner or later he’ll have to give in, right?”

  “I don’t think so. I rather think that he’s interpreted our sudden appearance as the result of some tip-off, nothing more.”

  “Actually Vincent, I wouldn’t either have understood well what ...”

  “Oh, right, I forgot. The body that we identified is that of Ferdinando Rocca, which at this point we can say with certainty that he died on May 27th.”

  “So he didn’t die in December?”

  “No Angelo.”

  “Then whose body was that?”

  “I don’t think we'll ever find that out. However, I'll explain everything when I return; let's keep each other up to date.”

  “Ok Vincent.”

  The chief, after ending the phone call, preferred not to immediately return to the locker room; he’d let his two colleagues continue in that ungrateful task for a bit.

  He continued, however, to observe every single scene from behind the door through a small window that allowed one to peer inside. But the music didn’t change. Piazza’s constant questions received no response except the looks of astonishment gradually painting themselves on Martinelli’s face.

  At that point there was nothing for the chief to do except to stop the interrogation, trying to play a surprise card.

  “I'm back ... it’s all over for you, Duccio Martinelli ...”

  “Yes, but I ...”

  “You may not have understood what we are really talking about here, but I have to make amends. It’s true, not having told you everything, it’s normal that you don’t realize what’s going on ... the investigation that we are conducting is not some kind of treasure hunt where everyone runs to and fro seemingly without purpose ...”

  “I don’t follow you, chief.”

  “Martinelli, we are dealing here with a double homicide and probably someone, like myself until just now, has failed to inform you completely about the kind of game in which you are involved ...”

  At that point the expression on the refrigeration room employee’s face suddenly changed, and while waiting for Germano’s next words, he nervously began to move his hands and feet.

  “You see, Martinelli, I’m aware that you’re in cahoots with Grassetti. Do you want to know what I thought when I understood everything? I thought about it and I'm convinced that someone like you doesn’t help a guy like Grassetti only because of friendship ... I'll tell you more, I also don’t think a person like you let’s these things go without a glimpse of at least a second chance to gain something ...”

  “No no! I...”

  “You what? You want to tell me that I cannot accuse you of anything because you haven’t committed extortion yet? Tell me the truth ... that night, when you called Grassetti to tell him that what he wanted had arrived, you made sure you had some evidence of that meeting, isn’t that right?”

  At this point Martinelli could not even look the chief in the face, who, undaunted, kept on with his monologue.

  “So Martinelli ... remember that the fact that one collaborates never goes unnoticed ... come on, tell me something I don’t know.”

  The facts were then listed in perfect chronological order and in great detail; it started from the first contact, almost casual, that he had with Grassetti after years in which they had not seen one another. It then passed on to the strange proposal that was made to the refrigeration room clerk, that being to let him know when a body arrived that resembled Ferdinando Rocca.

  Martinelli told him everything, even about the two thousand Euros that he pocketed for having lent out for a few hours the dead body of a stranger to his friend Andrea Grassetti; of how the body was taken away in the dead of night; and how it returned to its place in the late evening of the day next.

  Duccio Martinelli also recounted the words that his friend told him to justify that stunt; that it was a joke, this was why Grassetti needed a body resembling that of his brother-in-law Ferdinando Rocca.

  Germano could have asked him why he didn’t become suspicious after that gruesome request, but the chief well knew how money also had the power to switch a brain off.

  After the story Martinelli found himself, not only in a pool of sweat, but also with the chief’s eyes still glued on him. Something was still missing.

  This time without waiting to be asked, the employee got up and walked to his locker, out from which sprang a tape recorder. The tape contained the dialogue between the two on the night when the body disappeared. Germano listened in complete silence for those seven to eight minutes in which everything was explained precisely by the parties involved.

  The thoughts of the chief were interrupted by the ringing of his cellphone; recognizing who was calling he answered without delay.

  “Angelo?”

  “Yes, Vincent, it’s me, well ...”

  “Wait, I finally have some evidence, an audio recording of the night when that dead body was brought to the Rocca home and made to look like that of Ferdinand.”

  “Yes ... but...”

  “Listen carefully, if you want I can send you the tape also by e-mail from here. In fact Martinelli, besides having jealously kept this evidence, is also a fan of technology ... call the prosecutor immediately, ask him to immediately prepare an international arrest warrant for Andrea Grassetti; then send everything to France to the Police Judiciaire, so they arrest him without so much trouble this time.”

  “Vincent ... if you had let me talk ... Di Girolamo called me a few minutes ago.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He says that in fact the arrest warrant should be sent to the police all over the world ... at some point plane and train reservations on behalf of Andrea Grassetti started to sprout up like mushrooms ... in fact he’s booked flights on British, American Airlines, Lufthansa, Alitalia and another three or four companies with the most remote places of the world as destinations ...”

  “Um ... you're certain?”

  “Absolutely certain, Vincent.”

  “Damn it, who knows where he would be at this time ...”

  “I also think that by now he’s far away; he wanted us to believe that he had a well-defined route so that we’d focus on that while he calmly gave us the slip. Then, I guess, once he’d arrived at his destination, he started to book flights in continuation in order to make us understand how he’d basically pulled our leg.”

  “Um ... I think this time you're right, Angelo.”

  “So now?”

  “Nothing, but call the prosecutor and ask for the arrest warrant in any case. As for the rest ... call everyone back before they stop that train and also alert the Police Judiciaire.”

  “Will do, Vincent.”

  “One other thing Angelo, if you can, try to arrange for a squad car to come to the morgue here. We need to take Dr. Piccirillo back home, we shouldn’t take advantage of his helpfulness ...”

  “This will be done as well, Vincent ... what shall we do with Martinelli?”

  “Tell the prosecutor that we’ll worry a
bout him tomorrow; tonight we’ll keep him nice and warm in a jail cell.”

  Chapter 9

  The return of Germano that night to his own four walls was particularly sad and dejected. Midnight had long passed but, despite this, on opening the door he found almost everyone still awake.

  “Hello Arianna, why at this time ...?”

  “Luke didn’t want to go to sleep, Vincent....”

  “I see, and the twins?”

  “Oh, they’ve been asleep for quite a while!”

  “I guess you've already eaten ...”

  “Yes, but in the oven there’s still a little pasta left, come on, I’ll keep you company.”

  So the three brought all their things into the kitchen and made themselves comfortable.

  The chief immediately set the plate of spaghetti in front of him and began to devour it without uttering a word; both his wife as well as his son, sitting at the same table, couldn’t stop watching him.

  Only after almost finishing his second plate of pasta and having downed a nice glass of red wine, did Germano felt the desire for a chat.

  “Sorry if ... lately I must have disrupted our family schedule ... it’s just that ...”

  “You have nothing to be sorry about, Vincent.”

  “In fact ... all this trouble and instead right at the end ... I got taken like a sitting duck, by someone who works as an illusionist ...”

  “But in my opinion it wasn’t a total waste of time.”

  “You don’t think so, Arianna?”

  “No, in fact, lately I saw in you a certain fighting spirit, of initiative, something that had been missing from your eyes for quite a while now.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, Vincent.”

  “I don’t know ... I think it happens to all those who are seeking the truth; sometimes you don’t want to settle for the details and you want to go all the way ... anyway, Arianna, what was your day like today?”

  “Nothing like that, in the afternoon I went to visit Valentina; do you remember that friend of mine or not?”

  “Yes, she’s the one who came to dinner here with us a couple of times, right?”

  “Yes, that’s the one.”

  “What did you talk about? If I can be nosy ...”

 

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