The Measure of Time

by Gianrico Carofiglio

“A few days ago.”

  “What did they say to you?”

  Marinelli glanced at us, expecting us to object. Gastoni’s questions hinted that we had behaved improperly. Once again, theoretically, I could have objected. In practice I didn’t do so, for the same reason as a little earlier: it would have suggested that we were worried, that we were trying to stop what had happened from emerging because it contained something reprehensible. I shook my head and remained silent: I had nothing to say and the assistant prosecutor’s questions didn’t bother me at all.

  “Nothing really, they asked me about that time I met Iacopo. And then if I wanted to come here and give my testimony.”

  Gastoni seemed about to insist, then must have thought it was better not to.

  “Why is it you never told the police any of the things you’ve told us today?”

  “Because nobody called me.”

  “But you knew Cardace had been arrested and then tried for murder?”

  “Everyone knew. It was even on television.”

  “And why didn’t you come forward before to tell anyone what you’ve told us today?”

  “Because nobody sent for me.”

  “But didn’t you realize your testimony might be important?”

  “How was I supposed to know that?”

  Gastoni made a gesture of exasperation and sat down again. Marinelli asked us if we wished to re-examine. I replied that I just needed to clarify a few things.

  “Signor Arcidiacono, let me go back to what you were just asked by the prosecution. You said nobody sent for you. No policeman, no carabiniere, no examining magistrate?”

  “No, nobody.”

  “Can you tell the court what I said to you when we talked a few days ago?”

  “Objection,” Gastoni almost growled.

  “Why?” Marinelli asked in a not very friendly tone.

  “This is an irrelevant topic.”

  “It seems to me you were the one to introduce it during your cross-examination. I’m surprised that you now object to a question seeking to clarify it. Objection overruled. You may answer, Signor Arcidiacono.”

  As happens when there are these skirmishes, the witness was confused, he didn’t know who to answer and wasn’t even sure what the question was. So I helped him.

  “I just want you to recall briefly what I said to you when we talked a few days ago. First of all, where did we meet?”

  “In your office.”

  “What did I say to you?”

  “That I had to come to court and testify.”

  “What else?”

  “That I had to tell the truth and there was nothing to worry about.”

  22

  Finally it was the turn of Gaetano Rafaschieri, Gaglione’s former partner. A man of medium height with lots of muscles, the kind you see even when he’s dressed, and an almost completely shaved head. Like most people who find themselves testifying in a court of law, he didn’t seem happy to be there.

  After the ritual formalities, Consuelo began her examination. “Good morning, Signor Rafaschieri. Do you own a gym?”

  “I did. I sold it about a year ago.”

  “What do you do now?”

  “I work in other gyms, or in people’s homes as a personal trainer. Let’s say I’m freelance.”

  “For how long did you have a gym of your own?”

  “Four years, more or less.”

  “Why did you sell it?”

  “It wasn’t bringing in much money any more.”

  “Were you the sole owner?”

  “At the end, yes. Before that I had a partner.”

  “Who was this partner?”

  “Mino Gaglione, I mean Cosimo Gaglione.”

  “Were you equal partners?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you split the running?”

  “It wasn’t a big gym. I did mainly weightlifting, he did courses in kick-boxing and martial arts in general. But if it was needed, he helped me with the rest.”

  “Do you know the accused, the man who’s behind the bars over there?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know him?”

  “He used to come to the gym, he was a pupil of Gaglione’s: mixed martial arts, he was actually quite good.”

  “Obviously you know what this hearing is about?”

  “Yes.”

  “What terms were Gaglione and Cardace on?”

  “They were friends.”

  “Did they see each other outside the gym?”

  “As far as I know, yes.”

  “When did your partnership with Gaglione come to an end?”

  “About a year before the … the thing happened.”

  “Why did it end?”

  “He was bringing in people I didn’t like, there were drugs going around, I wanted a clean place.”

  “Did you quarrel?”

  “No. It was a joint decision. I bought out his share and that was it. I didn’t want to argue, I just wanted to find a way to get out of the situation. I was afraid there’d be problems and that my customers, who were normal people, women, kids, would be scared off. Some had already stopped coming.”

  “After the end of the partnership, did you maintain relations with Gaglione?”

  “No.”

  “Did you ever see him again?”

  “It happened. But only to say hi, good morning, good evening.”

  “Did you ever find out what he was doing? Did he have another gym?”

  “I don’t think so. I heard he sometimes worked as a nightclub bouncer.”

  “Did you ever hear of any specific episode connected with this work of Gaglione’s? I’m referring to an episode that took place in the weeks before the murder.”

  The witness looked at Consuelo. His face expressed something like: Do I really have to talk about this stuff? He remained silent until Marinelli prompted him.

  “You must answer. If you have something to say, of course. If you don’t, just say no.”

  “There was a rumour going around that he’d quarrelled with some dangerous people in a club. That he’d beaten up a kid who’d got drunk and was causing trouble, and … well, they were people it was better not to go near.”

  “But did Gaglione know that? I mean that he’d beaten someone ‘it was better not to go near’?”

  “When it happened, no. Then he found out and started to get worried.”

  “Are you able to tell us how long before the murder this episode took place? Weeks, days?”

  Gastoni stood up to object. She was perfectly right to do so. In fact, I was surprised she and Marinelli had allowed us to go ahead like this with inadmissible questions.

  “Your Honour, the witness said ‘there was a rumour going around’, which should already have been enough to make us interrupt the examination, being an answer contrary to article 194 paragraph 3 and article 195 paragraph 7 of the code of practice, which prohibits testimony based on common rumour, and in the case of indirect testimony requires that the witness indicate the person or the source from which he or she learned the facts which are the object of the examination. As if that weren’t enough, in his subsequent question counsel for the defence takes it for granted that an episode happened when there is no usable evidence pointing to the event having occurred at all.”

  “Objection sustained. Signor Rafaschieri, from whom did you hear about this quarrel in a disco?”

  Rafaschieri opened his arms wide. “I can’t say, Your Honour. The rumour was going around, even in the gym, it was common knowledge…”

  “Precisely. Testimony cannot be based on rumour. Avvocato Favia, Avvocato Guerrieri, do you have any further questions? Admissible questions, I mean.”

  It was the most we could do. The story of the fight in the disco hadn’t (yet) formally been allowed as part of the evidence that could be used to elicit further testimony later. But the thought had insinuated itself into the heads of the judges and jury. It would be a good starting point for sugge
sting an alternative narrative. Material I could work on in my closing statement.

  “We have no other questions, Your Honour, thank you.”

  The hearing was adjourned until the following Wednesday, when the accused would testify.

  “You did well,” I said to Consuelo. “You couldn’t have done more.”

  She shook her head. “Let’s hope it helps.”

  23

  On Tuesday afternoon I went to the prison to give Iacopo a full run-down on what would happen in court and how he should behave. I made him go over everything he had told us and advised him to talk about what he remembered, without making any effort to tinker with it or embellish it.

  “How’s it going to end, Avvocato Guerrieri?”

  “It’s very hard to make predictions in proceedings like this.”

  “But is there any hope?”

  I looked at him for a moment, thinking that, since the time we had first met, his face actually seemed to have changed.

  “We have a shot. We aren’t the favourite team in this championship, but we have a shot.”

  When I got to the court – I was on my own: Consuelo had a trial in Trani that morning – Lorenza was at the door waiting for me.

  “Hello, Guido.”

  “Hello, Lorenza.”

  “Today’s when Iacopo testifies.”

  “Yes.”

  She was silent, as if she had a question she couldn’t quite formulate.

  “Everything all right?” I asked.

  “Are we … sure?”

  “Sure of what?”

  “About him testifying. Is it the right thing to do? Iacopo’s fragile. The prosecutor could confuse him. Isn’t there a risk we’ll only make the situation worse, maybe with something coming out that they could use against him?”

  It took me a moment or two to realize. She didn’t trust her son. She didn’t think he was able to support the situation. As far as she was concerned, he was a child. This, I told myself, probably explained many other things. I had to control my irritation before answering, and what came out sounded so paternalistic that I hated myself for it later.

  “I think it’s not only the right thing to do, I think it’s necessary. If we’re going to introduce an element of reasonable doubt by proposing an alternative narrative to the one in the original ruling, then Iacopo’s testimony is indispensable. If you want to talk about it with him again, then do. My professional opinion is that we should go ahead.”

  She stared at me for a few seconds, as if to catch a hidden meaning in my words. Then she said: all right, and went in and took her seat in the courtroom.

  “Signor Cardace, you are charged with the murder of Cosimo Gaglione, known as Mino. Did you commit this murder?”

  “No. I’m innocent. I’ve committed crimes in my life, but not murder.”

  “Was Gaglione your friend?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you have interests in common?”

  “Yes. Drugs, and also sports.”

  “Can you be more specific? Can you tell us first of all how you met?”

  “I was doing mixed martial arts, and so was Gaglione. In fact, he was an instructor, he had his own gym. He saw me in a competition, he said I was good and offered to train me.”

  “And you accepted?”

  “Yes, and we quickly became friends. We saw each other outside, too.”

  “You mentioned drugs. Are you aware that in talking about certain things you could be incriminating yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then continue.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “About the drugs.”

  “Well, Gaglione supplied me … that is, he managed to get hold of banned substances that are used to increase muscular mass.”

  “Like anabolic steroids for bodybuilders?”

  “Not just for bodybuilders. He got hold of them through doctors, I think, and I helped him to sell them in a few gyms.”

  “Just that kind of substance?”

  “At first. Then we started working with other things, like Ecstasy.”

  “Were you partners?”

  “Not really. He’d supply me and I’d sell the stuff to people I knew, in discos and clubs around the province.”

  “I’d like you to tell us now how you spent the day Gaglione was killed.”

  “All right. In the morning I woke up late. The first thing I did was phone Mino … Gaglione, but I couldn’t reach him.”

  “Why did you call him?”

  “There was a problem and I had to talk to him.”

  “Was it a problem with drugs?”

  “Not really drugs. A few days before, he’d given me some bodybuilding products and I’d sold them to a guy who had a gym. But he’d complained to me, because he’d had the pills analysed and he said they weren’t … I mean, they didn’t look like what he’d been promised. They’d got him into trouble and he asked me for his money back.”

  “Did you give him his money?”

  “Yes, and he gave me back the pills. I was looking for Mino to talk to him about it, about this problem.”

  “You were angry.”

  “It’s only natural. He’d supplied me with the stuff and he’d made me look bad.”

  “When did you manage to talk to him?”

  “In the afternoon.”

  “How did the conversation go?”

  “I told him what had happened and complained about the fact that I hadn’t been able to reach him that morning.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said something like: ‘And who are you, my mother, always checking if my phone is on or off?’”

  “But what about the problem you’d had with the man from the gym?”

  “I don’t even know if he quite got what I was talking about. Anyway, he cut me off and said he’d call me right back.”

  “And did he?”

  “No. After half an hour I called him again.”

  “Do you remember what the two of you said during that second call?”

  “He wasn’t very pleasant, he said I was pissing him off, he’d told me lots of times that I said too much on the phone. I replied that I was going straight round there, that way he couldn’t use the phone as an excuse.”

  “How was your tone? Calm?”

  “No, I was pissed off.”

  “And what about Gaglione?”

  “He said: Come on then. Here I am.”

  “In a challenging voice?”

  “I’d say so, yes. He was angry too.”

  “What happened then?”

  “I went to his place.”

  “By car?”

  “Yes, of course. We live near the Russian church, and Gaglione lived in Fesca.”

  “What time did you start out?”

  “About half past five.”

  “What time did you get to his place?”

  “About six, more or less.”

  “How did the conversation go? Was it heated?”

  “At first a little, then we cleared things up. He said he’d check up on that consignment, and that if I was right he’d give me my money back. If not, we’d go and see the guy at the gym together.”

  “How long were you in Gaglione’s apartment?”

  “Half an hour.”

  “How did you part?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “On friendly or hostile terms?”

  “Friendly – we’d sorted things out.”

  “Did Gaglione give you anything before you left?”

  “Yes, he gave me some Ecstasy pills. He said they were very good, something special that had just arrived.”

  “Why did you meet at Gaglione’s apartment and not in a bar, for example?”

  “It was a time when Gaglione was going out as little as possible.”

  “Why?”

  “He was working as a bouncer. Sometime before there’d been a fight in a disco.”

  “Can you tell us which one?”
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br />   “Chilometro Zero. Anyway, this fight had broken out, the security people had intervened and he’d hit one guy who’d been especially violent. But it turned out he was someone dangerous, I mean, someone who belonged to a dangerous group.”

  “Did he tell you about it himself?”

  “Yes, he was worried, he was scared they might do something to him, as punishment. So he was avoiding going out if it wasn’t necessary. He even thought of going to stay with a cousin of his in Milan for a while.”

  “Who was the person he’d had this fight with?”

  “He didn’t tell me. He just said ‘dangerous people’ and I didn’t ask him any more questions.”

  “Did he mean people involved in organized crime?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you mention any of this before? In your statements, for example?”

  “My lawyer told me it was better not to mention the subject. If I couldn’t say the names it’d be useless, because the judges wouldn’t believe me and at the same time I’d be putting myself in danger.”

  “Let’s go back to that afternoon. After saying goodbye to Gaglione, what did you do?”

  “I was going back to my car when I met someone I knew.”

  “Sabino Arcidiacono?”

  “Yes, I didn’t know his surname. I knew him as Sabino.”

  “How did you know him?”

  “He was a mechanic. A good kid. I’d sold him stuff a few times.”

  “You mean drugs?”

  “A bit of grass, a few pills.”

  “And that afternoon?”

  “I gave him one of the pills Mino had given me.”

  “I see. Now let’s go back a bit. At what time did you go out that afternoon?”

  “Maybe about five, or a little earlier.”

  “When you went out, was your mother at home?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know where she was?”

  “She was working. She used to keep this old lady company. I think she read to her. She was round at her place.”

  “Do you know how often she went there?”

  “I’m not sure, but I think it was every afternoon.”

  “What time did you get home?”

  “I don’t know exactly. Between seven and eight.”

  “When you got back, was your mother at home?”