Death Brings Gold

CHAPTER 6

“Come in.”

The door opened without a sound and detective Bassani peeped out into Walker’s office.

The two men stood staring at each other. So? the Chief’s eyes seem to shout.

Bassani looked away, as if for some strange reason he felt intimidated by the Chief Inspector.

“We’ve tracked down the widow Pilenga, Martina’s mother, wife of…”

“Good. Well done.” Walker interrupted him abruptly. “Where is she now?”

Bassani hadn’t even had time to respond when Walker spoke again.

“That woman should have already been here.”

The detective’s eyes widened.

“You’re right, Chief, but…” he stopped, worried by, but also quietly relishing the brooding expression on Walker’s face. “Martina Pilenga is not available at the moment.”

“What do you mean ‘is not available at the moment’ ?”

“Just what I said, Chief. What our witness said, Belmond…”

“Belmondo” Walker remarked with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Yes, Belmondo. Like Belmondo was saying, Martina Pilenga moved in with her mother – probably following the stormy period with her husband –, but it’s been a couple of days since she’s been there. The widow Pilenga, Martina’s mother, said her daughter had told her that she was going to be away for the weekend …”

“But?” asked Walker, as if he was inevitably expecting a “but”.

“But she is pretty old,” Bassani hurried to answer. “And doesn’t remember where she’s gone. Actually, she doesn’t even remember if her daughter told her.”

A cloak of silence fell on them again. Then it was the Chief who spoke again.

“So, let’s see if I’ve understood it well…” he grumbled. “A man is found lifeless in his flat after discovering his wife was unfaithful. The colleague who finds him states that that man was a good person, but had just found out that his wife had cheated on him. We, obviously, try to trace the wife of this poor unlucky man and, strangely enough, she’s away for the weekend and no one, not even her mother, knows where she’s gone. It could be a coincidence, of course! But I’d say something strange is going on here. Very strange.”

The Chief took a pause. He couldn’t wait for Caslini - the detective he’d worked with since his arrival in Milan – to get back quickly enough from his holiday. It’s not that he didn’t like Bassani, he simply lacked initiative. Moreover, Walker was convinced that he was a slacker.

“That’s why I want that woman to be found asp,” Walker continued, running his fingers through his hair. Then the tone of his voice went up. “Call her girlfriends, relatives, colleagues, cats, dogs, even turtles – if she has any… I want somebody to tell me asap where the fuck this woman is. And I want her here, in my office. It’s the only lead we have.”

“I’ll do my best, Chief,” the detective said. “Anything else?”

Walker shook his head.

The detective turned, heading towards the door. When he was about to open the door, the Chief Inspector stopped him.

“Bassani?”

He turned around.

“Yes, Chief,” he answered.

“If that woman, for whatever reason, cannot manage to come to my office this very day” now his voice was calmer, “I at least want to speak with her on the phone.”

Bassani gave his boss a perplexed look, and tried to answer in a way that wouldn’t disappoint him.

“It will be done, Chief.”

Before disappearing through the door, Bassani raised his hand to wave goodbye.

Walker stood motionless for a long time, before deciding to treat himself to a cigarette. Although by law it was strictly forbidden, as long as that office was his, he would smoke any time he felt like it.

Smoking relaxed him, as well as helping him think.

Automatically he let the ash fall on a little china plate which had seen better days, when he felt a sharp pain running through his arm. He clenched his teeth and grimaced with pain, tossing and turning on his chair. The wound on his shoulder was still burning. Maybe he had underestimated it.

CHAPTER 7

“What do you mean she’s at the spa?”

“A SPA is, like…” replied Bassani, “… a sort of wellness centre, Chief.”

“I know perfectly well what a SPA is,” Walker replied dryly. Then the tone of his voice mellowed. “Did you think I thought it was the Software Publishing Association?”

Bassani smiled, shaking his head.

Walker became serious again.

“What I meant was… what the hell is she doing in a SPA?”

“She must have gone there to relax, Chief. Maybe to have a break from her husband, since it looks like they were on bad terms.”

Walker nodded, remembering what Belmondo had told him about the marital instability between the victim and his wife.

“So,” the Chief Inspector considered, “Ghezzi’s wife is relaxing at a wellness centre. Sauna, Turkish baths, massage and other shit like that. All of this while her husband is resting peacefully at the morgue, after having been killed. Quite bizarre this thing.”

“Well, although a mortuary isn’t a wellness centre, at least it is a calm place. Where you certainly don’t get stressed” Bassani tried to joke about it.

“That was a good joke, detective. Unlike mine”, smiled Walker. “But now, let’s be serious again. The fact that this woman is unreachable could make her a suspect. Actually, the only suspect, at this moment.”

Bassani nodded without saying a word, allowing the Chief Inspector to continue.

“Who told you that Ghezzi’s wife is at a wellness centre?”

“After speaking with some people who knew her, one of her girlfriends told us.”

Bassani didn’t mention the identity or details of that person and Walker didn’t care to know.” And where is this wellness centre?”

“In a town in the region of Versilia, Chief.”

“So I can assume that it would be impossible to have her in my office today.”

“Exactly…”

“But I did say that in that case I would have wanted …”

The phone ringing cut the Chief’s sentence clean off . Before he could answer it, Bassani hurried to say he had called the place where Mrs Pilenga was staying.

“After introducing myself, I told them I needed to speak urgently with Mrs Pilenga. I gave them your extension. This should be her” Bassani concluded, nodding towards the receiver that kept on ringing. For once, he felt like he had done something right.

“State Police, Chief Inspector Walker speaking.”

On the other end of the line was the tense voice of the receptionist who, after having introduced himself, passed the phone to Mrs Pilenga.

“Hello?” the woman said, her anxiety tightening her throat.

The Chief Inspector introduced himself and, choosing his words carefully, informed her of the fate that had befallen her husband.

No reply.

After a time that seemed, according to Walker, sufficient to take in the news, he prompted Mrs Pilenga.

“Mrs Pilenga, are you still there?”

“This isn’t a joke, is it?” she asked faintly.

“It’s not a joke, Mrs Pilenga. My condolences.”

“Dead in our flat?”

“Yes, Mrs Pilenga,” confirmed Walker, not reminding her that she hadn’t lived under the same roof as her husband for some months.

“It’s impossi…”

Sobbing stopped her from finishing her sentence.

Walker waited until the sobbing diminished, then asked her to come to Police Headquarters as soon as possible.

“I should be back in Milan tomorrow,” the woman told him.

“Tomorrow will be perfectly fine.”

“I was supposed to leave in the early afternoon, but…” more sobbing in her voice, “… I will leave early tomorrow morning.”

The Chief Inspector told her he would expect her in the afternoon. Then, exactly when he was about to hang up, she mumbled something incomprehensible.

“Excuse me?”

“Can I know why you want to talk to me in person?”

Walker had expected that question. Nevertheless, he gave himself a couple of seconds before answering.

“Mrs Pilenga, your husband has been found dead, in rather unusual circumstances. And you are his wife. It seems more than reasonable for me to ask you some questions.”

“Unusual circumstances? What do you mean?” Mrs Pilenga asked in an agitated shrill voice

“I’m sorry, Mrs Pilenga, but I can’t provide any information over the phone. You’ll have to come to Police Headquarters.”

His tone of voice did not encourage a reply. The silence on the other end of the phone was a clear sign that she had got the message.

Walker re-confirmed the appointment for the following day, said goodbye, rang off and stood there listening to the sound of the interrupted dial tone, lost in his thoughts.

When he came back from the place he’d gone to, a new thought struck him: if the woman was in any way linked to the death of her husband, she hadn’t showed it at all. At least not from her voice. Only one more day and Walker would also read her body language. Then he could arrive at his most valid conclusions. He was trusting the same instinct that had many times before guided him to the right place.

“So?” asked Bassani.

“Tomorrow we’ll see if Mrs Pilenga has something to tell us.”

“Good,” said the detective, nodding. “Can I go now?”

“Just one minute, please, there’s something else I want to talk to you about.”

Bassani’s silence was an invitation for Walker to continue.

“I’ve been informed the necktie is the MODADUOMO brand. You know it, don’t you?”

“Who doesn’t know MODADUOMO, Chief?”

Walker nodded, smiling. Then he typed the brand name on his Smartphone and clicked on the link.

“Listen” he said. “Straight from Wikipedia. MODADUOMO.… well known fashion brand made in Italy… founded in Milan… production and sale of tailored, custom-made suits and accessories for men for over fifty years… blah, blah, blah… with branches throughout Italy. Since 2004 the well known brand has also been exported, opening over fifty stores across the world.”

When Walker finished reading, Bassani, looking disoriented, spoke.

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me, Chief.”

Walker stared at him. The point perhaps eluding himself too.

“Basically we are dealing with a giant of designer fashion. The necktie found at the victim’s throat could have been bought anywhere.”

Walker stopped talking, giving himself time to reflect. It was when he noticed Bassani’s puzzled expression that he began to put forward his next question.

“I’m getting there, Chief,” Bassani said, interrupting with a fast movement of his hand.

Walker continued. “It would be almost impossible to track down the killer through that. O.K., it’s also true that the colour is not one of the most common ones. Did you get any idea of how many gold neckties MODADUOMO, in that exact model, have been sold around the world?”

Detective Bassani shrugged.

“Neither did I,” Walker admitted. “Although I believe that it must be a three-digit number. I’ll say it again, on our side we have that…unusual colour. Having said that, since we don’t have anywhere to start from, I would like to cling to that damn necktie. I plan to drop into one of these stores. Please get me the address of the main office and let the manager know about my upcoming visit. I’m going to have a little chat with him.”

“Will do, Chief.”

“Good, Bassani. That’s all. Thanks.”

CHAPTER 8

When Dr Visconti made his entrance into the Autopsy Room, he noticed that Dr Parri had already prepared all the instruments on the small trolley.

He didn’t let her see that he was pleased with her. Clara Parri was the new (and only) junior medical physician, she had arrived with a prestigious CV and was eager to work with the best medical examiner in the whole of Northern Italy. And Dr Visconti, although the idea of having to babysit junior doctors didn’t sit well with him –he’d only done it once with another student before her – in the end had accepted it.

And now, after almost a month and a half of work, he was pleased with the young woman. He still hadn’t found any negative trait in her. She was beautiful, sophisticated, with a refined attitude and well-mannered –and these were the basics needed to work by his side. Moreover she was a quick learner. With her you didn’t need to say things twice – and this was also a basic requirement if you were to work with Umberto Visconti.

“Well done, Clara,” that was all he said.

She gave him a delicate smile and he had the impression that she was attracted by his charm. He smiled back, then with few words their work began.

Visconti moved near to the table where Raffaele Ghezzi was lying, the tag tied around the dead man’s big toe stating his name.

With a sharp look he covered the dead body from head to toe several times and in the meantime he was asking himself how many corpses he had seen throughout his career. He remembered the first one. He was still a junior doctor and the dead body belonged to an obese man, almost two hundred kilos. When the doctor had made an incision on that large abdomen, it had deflated and a sickening smell had filled the room. It had lingered on him for more than a week. Or at least that was his impression.

And since that day his life had been a series of dead people and autopsies. And the people, who initially had a name, a sex and an age, with the passing of time had become mere dummies to be sliced open and a skullcap to be removed.

And now Raffaele Ghezzi was also part of that miserable group.

Visconti allowed himself a smile – careful not to be seen by the girl – which reflected the satisfaction he had for his job.

He stretched an arm towards the small trolley and retrieved two rubber gloves.

He put them on, making sure that they were snug. Noticing that Clara was already wearing hers, he nodded at her and grabbed the scalpel.

The autopsy lasted a bit more than an hour and a half.

Visconti recorded that the victim had died of cardiorespiratory arrest.

“A strip of fabric or something similar was tightly wrapped around the neck obstructing the passage of cerebral impulses.”

Then, when the dissection was almost concluded, ,Clara, who was examining the dead man’s oral cavity, in a feeble voice interrupted the operation.

“Doctor, look here,” said the girl.

“What’s up?” asked the doctor, leaning forward.

“There,” she continued. “In his mouth. It looks like…”

Clara didn’t complete the sentence because she knew what it looked like.

The medical examiner moved a bit closer and with a torch illuminated the inside of the dead man’s mouth.

“There,” the girl exorted him, “under his tongue.”

Dr Visconti lifted the dead man’s tongue, as much as was necessary, in order to be able to take a better look at what Clara had seen.

“Yes,” he said. “You’re right, Clara. There’s something strange.”

CHAPTER 9

“Thank you for coming, Mrs Pilenga,” Inspector Walker said to the woman, although it had been more of an order than a request.

Martina nodded, silent. Then, she tried to find something to say, despite the dreadful misery she felt inside her.

“If there’s anything I can do…”

Walker offered her a benevolent smile, in an attempt to look sympathetic. Then he rubbed his hands together and let himself drop back into his old worn-out armchair.

“That’s exactly why we have summoned you. We think that anything you say may be useful to us.”

The woman replied by nodding again. She looked like a little doll with a broken neck.

“Good,” said Walker. Then he glanced at Zambetti, informing him that the real interrogation was now to begin.

The assistant nodded, sliding his fingertips onto the computer keys.

“Mrs Pilenga, do you know,” Walker started, “if there was anybody who would have wanted to hurt your husband?”

Before answering, the woman waited longer than the Inspector would have expected.

“Not that I know of.”

“And what about you, Mrs Pilenga? Did you get on with your husband?”

“What kind of question is that?” blurted the woman, fidgeting in her chair.

“Calm down, ” the Inspector tried to quiet her . This is just like any other question...”

“Of course we got on,” Mrs Pilenga uttered, interrupting him.

Walker nodded, moving his head slowly. In that precise moment he decided to shift into high gear, without reservation.

“Good,” he said smoothly. “Is there by any chance anything in particular that you would like to tell us regarding your relationship with your husband?”

The woman blushed. The Inspector could see on her face that she was wondering what the reason was behind that question. Following a few seconds of silence, Mrs Pilenga attempted to change track.

“What are you trying to say?”

Walker put on the most casual face he could summon.

“It was just a simple question, Mrs Pilenga. You know, before formulating any hypothesis about the murder, I would like to know a bit more about your husband’s life. And who better than you to help me?”

Martina looked down at the desk. She scratched nervously at the back of her hand, then she lifted her eyes and tried to look the Inspector in the face.

“My husband and I were an ordinary couple.”

“What do you mean by ordinary?”

The woman thought about that for a moment.

“We had ups and downs, like many other couples.”

“Ups and downs,” repeated Walker, turning his head sideways for a moment, towards his subordinate. “So, Mrs Pilenga, according to you, these ups and downs, could your husband also have them with somebody else. Don’t misunderstand me. I mean… of your knowledge, did your husband have problems with anybody?”

Walker’s cold eyes were inspecting Martina’s teary eyes, not prying away from them for even a moment.

“I’ve known my husband for thirty years. I have never seen him fight with anyone. I don’t believe he’d decided to start getting into trouble at fifty years old.”

“I understand,” continued Walker, who was still feeling his way through the dark.

“I still can’t believe it,” the woman opened up, letting herself go into a choked cry.

Walker stretched his hands out on the desk, in search of hers. She noticed it and decided to accept the charitable gesture. She put her hands together and entrusted them in the Inspector’s big, yet delicate, hands, finding warmth in them.

“I’m sorry, Mrs Pilenga. Believe me,” he told her. “Although my methods might seem harsh, I swear I am doing it for you. To find your husband’s killer. And I am sure that your deposition, even something that you might consider insignificant, could lead us on the right track. I am just asking you to help us to help you.”

“But I don’t know how,” she replied, sobbing.

Walker remained silent, wondering if he hadn’t made a mistake in summoning the woman too soon after her husband’s death. Would it have been better to have let some days go by?

“Mrs Pilenga,” he regained her attention, also by putting a light pressure on her hands. “Maybe it’s better if you go back home. You need to rest. Relax, let yourself go with all the tears you need. We’ll be in touch again in a couple of days. So if in the meantime you remember anything that can be useful to us, let me know.”

Martina nodded, taking a tissue out of her handbag.

“Maybe it’s better, yes,” she confirmed.

Walker offered her one last smile and stood still waiting for her to slip her hands from his.

“Have a good day,” said the woman, looking at the two men, first at one, then at the other.

“See you soon,” and “Have a good day too,” answered Walker and Zambetti in unison.

Martina Pilenga stood up from the chair and, walking slowly and sadly, left.

The two men found themselves alone together again.

“She seemed worn out,” ventured Zambetti.

“Well, even if it was true that she was unfaithful to him, he was still her husband,” suggested Walker.

“I wonder why she didn’t admit to the extramarital affair.”

“Well, it’s obvious. We didn’t ask her explicitly and she didn’t say it. It’s normal, isn’t it? Who’s that woman who loves to shout it from the rooftops that she is having an affair? I tried to bring up the topic, but she avoided it.”

“To be honest, you’re right, Chief Inspector,” Zambetti tried flattering him. “Although…”

Walker turned his head sharply towards him.

“Although?”

Zambetti tapped his fingertips on the edge of the computer.