City of Devils

by Diana Bretherick

  ‘This subject was a criminal but is now completely rehabilitated and is currently in my employ.’

  James was relieved at this. He had not wanted to hear anything about Sofia’s past life under these circumstances. If she wanted to tell him, he would listen, but it had to be between them.

  Lombroso went on. ‘The reason for her reaction to the test is not her gender but the result of her reform. This demonstrates that some criminals can change, as I indicated in my speech at the debate.’

  James glanced round as Lombroso was speaking about Sofia. Horton was leering at her in a most ungentlemanly fashion. Really, the more he saw of that man the less he liked him! For her part Sofia stood quietly, listening attentively as Lombroso spoke and nodding now and then to confirm his words. DeClichy was staring too – but not at Sofia. He was looking intently at Horton, his eyes screwed up in concentration. He seemed to have a small piece of paper in his hand and every now and again he would refer to it and look up at Horton again. Suddenly Horton glanced over at him and DeClichy hastily returned whatever it was to his pocket. James didn’t think Horton had seen as he looked away again almost immediately. Then Lombroso stopped speaking, and waited for Sofia to leave before asking for questions. The first came from Borelli.

  ‘You say, Cesare, that this technique could be used to collect evidence for a court case. Could you say how this might work?’

  ‘Ah yes, Adolfo, a good question to start us off. Well, the point is really that algometry, when applied to a person accused of a crime, can tell us about the sort of person they are and the likelihood that they are of a criminal type. This could assist a judge and jury in their assessment of the character of the accused. In simple terms – it could show us the dangers that atavism can pose. I have used similar techniques in several cases already and have successfully identified more than one offender as a result.’

  ‘Most interesting,’ Borelli said. ‘Could you give us an example?’

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ replied Lombroso. ‘There is one case which has always stayed in my mind, even though it was some years ago. It concerned a young man, I forget his name now, who was accused of the murder of his next-door neighbour, an elderly lady. She had been beaten to death in a frenzied attack with some kind of blunt instrument. I was asked to interview the suspect with a view to answering a particular question: the police wanted to know whether or not this particular young man had the capacity to kill in this way.’

  He paused and stroked his beard, a faraway look in his eye.

  ‘What happened, Cesare?’ asked Madame Tarnovsky gently.

  Lombroso smiled sadly. ‘It was a tragic case. The young man was clearly mentally disturbed. One only had to look at his posture. He sat throughout the entire interview rocking backwards and forwards with his arms locked tightly around his body.’

  ‘Did he say anything?’ asked Borelli, leaning forward slightly.

  ‘He spoke only one sentence,’ replied Lombroso, ‘though he repeated it over and over again. I will never forget it. “Nothing can harm a good man, either in life or after death.” ’

  ‘Socrates!’ James exclaimed.

  Lombroso nodded sagely.

  ‘Well done, Murray. Yes, it was indeed Socrates. You can imagine my surprise that a young man from humble origins should be in a position to quote such wisdom.’

  ‘And did it change your view of him?’ asked Borelli.

  Lombroso shook his head. ‘No, it did not.’ He paused, no doubt for dramatic effect. ‘I took one look at this young man and I knew his past and, more importantly, his future, if left to his own devices. There was no doubt in my mind that he was a criminal born and bred.’

  ‘How could you tell?’ Borelli asked, who appeared to be genuinely bemused at Lombroso’s conclusions. ‘You seemed somewhat hasty to conclude his guilt!’

  This level of criticism from someone who claimed to be a supporter of Lombroso sounded a little odd to James. But then, after all, James himself was not a little troubled by the professor’s certainty about things, particularly his apparent willingness to condemn people on the basis of what they looked like.

  ‘His appearance was enough,’ Lombroso said, as if he had read James’s mind. ‘He had a cold stare, almost glassy – in fact, his eyes appeared almost filmy. His nose was hawklike and prominent, his jaw strong, his cheekbones broad. He had an abundance of dark hair but a scanty beard and thin lips. All of these are characteristics of the habitual murderer. And that is what I told the authorities. I gave evidence in court to that effect. Later the unfortunate boy’s defence lawyer told me that my testimony was so certain that he did not dare to test it!’

  ‘What happened to the boy?’ asked Madame Tarnovsky.

  ‘He was convicted, and rightly so. His sentence was a life of penal servitude. The judge said that he had little choice, for, having heard my opinion, it was clear that the young man could never be rehabilitated.’

  ‘So you were responsible, almost single-handedly, for his incarceration?’ murmured Borelli.

  Lombroso bowed slightly as if expecting applause. ‘I was . . .’

  ‘He was lucky that you do not execute murderers in this country,’ said Madame Tarnovsky, shivering slightly.

  Lombroso looked over to her and nodded sadly. James wondered how that would have made him feel. To be responsible for someone’s death is a heavy burden and not one that he would ever wish to carry.

  ‘Professor?’ It was Horton, still standing at the back. Everyone turned to look at him. He didn’t seem troubled in the slightest by their attention.

  ‘Yes?’ Lombroso said tersely.

  ‘Bringing us back to today’s demonstration – is it not possible that what you have actually measured is merely the action of the electricity on the muscles rather than levels of pain?’

  Lombroso sighed. ‘I see that you have read Gemelli’s critique of my work in some depth, Horton. I believe my experiments have clearly demonstrated my point. His efforts, I might add, are rather primitive in comparison.’

  There were a few more questions from the audience but they did not go on for long. The governor thanked Lombroso and brought the proceedings to an end. Ottolenghi and James started to attend to the equipment as people were leaving, but Lombroso ushered them away and beckoned the two other assistants over to deal with it so James took the opportunity to slip out of the room. He was hoping to catch Sofia before she left and make things right between them.

  He saw her about to leave. He was just going to call out to her when he saw Reiner, already in his hat and coat, approach her. He hung back and watched, puzzled. What could Reiner have to say to Sofia, he wondered? Reiner whispered in her ear for a moment. She nodded, said something back, and they parted. It looked as if they had made some kind of an assignation. As Reiner left, James caught sight of a flash of colour from beneath his coat. It had been Reiner with Rosa Bruno and Sofia, that evening in La Capra!

  ‘Sofia!’ James called.

  She turned and saw him but was clearly going to ignore him.

  ‘Wait, please!’

  ‘What is it? I am in a hurry,’ Sofia said abruptly.

  ‘I just wanted to see if you were all right.’

  She looked puzzled. ‘Of course I am, as you can see.’

  ‘Sofia, you really shouldn’t let him use you like that!’

  ‘Really? I thought the professor had used you as a subject or is it one rule for you and another for me?’

  ‘That was different.’

  ‘Why, because you are a man, not a servant girl who cannot make up her own mind?’

  ‘No, yes . . . oh I don’t know!’ James ran his hand through his hair in confusion. ‘What did Reiner want?’

  Sofia stood before him, her arms folded. ‘That is none of your business. I may be a servant but, contrary to what you may think, I am perfectly capable of making make my own mind up about what I do and who I speak to. I don’t need you or anyone else to tell me. Arrivederci, Dr Murray.’


  James grabbed her hand before she could go. ‘Please, Sofia, I was just worried about you.’

  She looked at down at her hand in his. Her expression softened slightly and he saw the beginnings of a smile. She muttered under her breath and shook her head. ‘Oh, James, what am I to do with you?’

  He grinned at her. ‘You could allow me to visit you later.’

  ‘Perhaps, si, but not too late. Remember, I need my sleep!’

  They heard voices. It was the professor and Ottolenghi. Sofia squeezed his hand and ran out of the door before they could see her.

  ‘Ah, Murray, there you are. I was just saying to Ottolenghi that you should both be rewarded for your endeavours. I also think that it is time to introduce Murray to the delights of Caffè Torino. What do you say, Salvatore?’

  Ottolenghi nodded eagerly. James was in two minds. Although he was keen to experience all that Turin had to offer, particularly when it meant dining with Lombroso, he was also angry with both Lombroso and Ottolenghi for including Sofia in the demonstration. As it was, though, the decision was taken out of his hands. They were just leaving Le Nuove when they were approached by a young boy who announced in trembling tones that he had an urgent message for signor the professor.

  ‘Thank you, young man,’ Lombroso said, taking the letter. Ottolenghi tipped the boy, who bowed graciously and ran off into the dusk.

  Lombroso opened the letter and as he read the contents his expression became grim. ‘Gentlemen, I am afraid we must change our plans. I will need you as witnesses.’ He held the letter aloft and glared at them. ‘This is from Gemelli. Apparently my presence is requested immediately at an urgent meeting. There is one item on the agenda – the subject under discussion is my dismissal!’

  12

  While most murders are caused by a motive, such as religious belief, jealousy or revenge, others have no clear cause.

  Lombroso, 1884 p 180

  ‘I am surrounded by fools! This whole is affair is utterly ridiculous. I have not killed anyone and yet I am being treated as if I have been convicted of a crime!’ Lombroso threw up his hands in the air in exasperation.

  ‘If you continue to behave in this way I will have no option but to ask you to leave,’ replied Gemelli severely.

  James and Ottolenghi exchanged glances. The meeting was not going well. If the professor was not careful he would play right into Gemelli’s hands which would be a disaster.

  ‘Perhaps if you could outline your views, Professor Gemelli?’ Ottolenghi said carefully.

  Gemelli gave a slight smirk and Lombroso glowered at him. The rest of the committee, made up of several members of the Board of Governors including Borelli, Father Vincenzo who was acting as Chair and a couple of Gemelli’s cronies, looked on with interest.

  ‘The connection is quite clear,’ Gemelli said primly. ‘Professor Lombroso has been linked to two of the most horrific murders this city has ever seen. If we allow him to continue to represent the faculty there is a danger that he will bring the entire university into disrepute.’

  ‘É ridicolo!’ shouted Lombroso. ‘É assurdo! I have never heard such nonsense! I will sue you for criminal slander, Gemelli!’

  ‘Come, come, Professor,’ Father Vincenzo said. ‘There is no need for this meeting to be so ill-natured. We must remain calm.’

  ‘Calm!’ Lombroso shouted. ‘How can I remain calm when I am being accused of such a crime?’

  ‘You are not being accused directly, or so I understand it,’ said Father Vincenzo. He looked over to Gemelli. ‘You are not suggesting that Professor Lombroso is responsible for these events, I take it?’

  Gemelli shrugged. ‘We cannot know. The crime has not been solved. I am told by Marshal Machinetti—’

  ‘That imbecile!’ Lombroso interrupted.

  ‘Professor, I will not tell you again!’ responded Father Vincenzo.

  Lombroso slumped in his seat and pursed his lips. James thought that if his face flushed any redder he might have a seizure.

  ‘I do not think it is any secret that the marshal and Professor Lombroso do not always see eye-to-eye,’ Borelli said.

  ‘That may well be the case but there is still the matter of the note,’ said Father Vincenzo.

  ‘I have absolutely nothing to do with that,’ protested Lombroso.

  ‘Your name is on it!’ responded Gemelli.

  ‘But I did not write it!’

  ‘Nonetheless, Professor, it does represent a link, I think you must agree,’ said Father Vincenzo.

  ‘Not one of his making,’ interjected Borelli, quickly.

  Father Vincenzo nodded thoughtfully and whispered to the other two governors for a moment. ‘I think we have reached a decision, Professor Lombroso.’

  With that Lombroso stood up, turned and stalked out of the room, not even waiting for them to announce their findings. Borelli watched him go and looked over to James and Ottolenghi, exasperated. It was not looking as if the professor would last much longer in his post and what would happen then, James wondered. He glanced at Gemelli, triumphant and gloating and then got to his own feet to follow Lombroso. Something had to be done.

  They convened outside the meeting room and James slumped onto a hard bench by the door. It was his future as well as Lombroso’s fate that was being decided, for if he was dismissed there would be no option but to return to Scotland. He had just begun to feel alive again and he could not bear the thought that the progress he had made could be lost at the whim of Gemelli and his cronies. Their only hope was Borelli. If he could persuade the other members of the board to back Lombroso then the professor might survive with his position at the university intact.

  ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Borelli, who had followed them out, said, patting James on the shoulder before turning to go back into the meeting. He seemed oddly calm, given events.

  Ottolenghi sank down on the bench beside James.

  ‘What do you think will happen?’ James asked anxiously.

  ‘The professor will probably be barred from further teaching until the crimes are solved,’ replied Ottolenghi.

  ‘Well, at least it’s not a dismissal.’ James was trying hard to sound positive. ‘After all, where there’s life and all that . . .’ He tailed off.

  It was clear that Ottolenghi did not share this optimism. ‘Dismissal will be the next step. That much was made clear.’

  At that very moment, the door opened and Borelli walked out, shutting it firmly behind him. ‘Gentlemen . . .’ They rose to greet him. He beckoned to them to follow him down the corridor a little way, presumably to ensure that they could not be overheard.

  ‘I did what I could but the committee were adamant that Cesare’s involvement in these murders is bringing the university into disrepute. There is just one thing that can save him now.’

  The door opened again and Gemelli came out with a smug expression on his face, closely followed by his cronies. Then Father Vincenzo emerged with one or two other people that James did not recognise. Borelli waited until they had disappeared through the doors at the end of the corridor.

  ‘What was the priest doing there?’ James asked.

  ‘That man gets everywhere,’ Ottolenghi said bitterly.

  ‘Gemelli invited him to sit on the faculty board in order to please the Marchesa. Her patronage is extremely valuable to the university. And Father Vincenzo has real influence. We must be wary of him,’ cautioned Borelli. ‘I only wish Cesare had been more circumspect at the reception.’

  ‘So what can we do?’ James asked.

  Borelli sighed. ‘The professor has been forbidden to teach – a formal letter will be delivered to him by hand within the hour – but I managed to persuade the committee that he should be allowed to carry on with his research and that the symposium should continue.’

  James wondered how he had achieved that. Borelli answered his unspoken question.

  ‘I told them that to stop Cesare’s research was far too draconian when no connection to the murders
has been proved. Thankfully Father Vincenzo agreed, no doubt influenced by the Marchesa, who is a great supporter of research in all its forms. As for the symposium, I suggested that to cancel it now would only cause awkward questions to be asked.’

  ‘You did well to persuade them, Professor,’ Ottolenghi said. ‘Had it not been for you, I dread to think what would have happened.’

  ‘You mentioned that there was one thing that would save the professor?’ James said.

  Borelli nodded. ‘Indeed there is. Cesare must find out who committed the murders and why. He must use his expertise to investigate.’

  ‘But that is exactly what we have been trying to persuade him to do,’ Ottolenghi said in an exasperated tone. ‘He won’t budge an inch on it, no matter what we say.’

  ‘I think you may find that he will have a change of heart,’ Borelli said.

  James readied himself to leave. ‘No time like the present,’ he said firmly. ‘Let us go to him and ask.’

  Borelli put a restraining hand on his arm. ‘No, leave it a while. Let it sink in overnight and speak to him in the morning, when he’s had a chance to absorb things. It might make a difference.’

  They nodded their agreement and Borelli bade them good evening and went on his way.

  ‘Shall we discuss strategy over dinner?’ James asked Ottolenghi, keen to talk over the events of the day with him.

  He shook his head. ‘No, not tonight, my friend, if you don’t mind. I think I need an early night. You too – so we can be fresh for the morning. If we are to persuade the professor, we will need our wits about us.’

  Reluctantly James agreed and they parted company. He was about to make his way towards his lodgings when it occurred to him that this was an ideal opportunity to continue DeClichy’s research on Horton as he had decided at the reception. He looked at his watch. It was almost eight o’clock but the library was opening late during the symposium so he was confident that he would be able to gain admittance.