City of Devils: A Novel (39 page)

Lombroso stood to greet his guest. ‘Good afternoon, Father Vincenzo.’ He looked past him into the hall. ‘I was expecting the Marchesa.’

‘She is indisposed. I think that your connection with four murders was too much, even for her.’

‘Ah, I see. The news is out already. I suppose I should have expected it. Well, thank you for coming, in any event,’ Lombroso said.

The priest looked self-assured as usual. ‘Think nothing of it, Professor, though I confess I was surprised to be included in your invitation to the Marchesa.’

‘Shall we be seated?’ Lombroso wandered over to a sideboard upon which a silver tray and some fine crystal decanters sat, glinting in the gaslight.

‘May I offer you some refreshment? A drink, perhaps, since it so cold outside?’

Father Vincenzo accepted a glass of sherry and the two of them sat before the fire. James looked over to Ottolenghi and shrugged. The priest had not acknowledged their presence, which seemed to James both ill-mannered and odd at the same time. Clearly he did not regard either of them as being of sufficient importance to pay them even the most fleeting courtesy. Lombroso was, of course, an entirely different matter. Further pleasantries were exchanged and then the visitor glanced over to a small table beside him.

‘I see you are a chess player.’

‘I am indeed. I find it helps me to think and to relax, on occasion. Do you play?’

Father Vincenzo nodded. ‘I do. To my mind mastery of the game indicates an exceptional intellect.’

‘Perhaps,’ said Lombroso with some scepticism in his voice, ‘but also a love for strategy and even a little bluff. We must have a game some time.’

‘I would enjoy that very much indeed. So what can I do for you, Professor?’ Father Vincenzo asked crisply. ‘Is it to do with Pilgrim? I have been following the case with some interest.’

Lombroso nodded. ‘I am glad to hear it. We could do with some assistance for I confess that these murders have been perplexing me, somewhat. I have only recently been in a position to theorise with any certainty as to the type of person responsible and even then I am not entirely certain.’

‘I would be most interested to hear your conclusions,’ Father Vincenzo said. ‘But you wish to consult me about something in particular?’

Lombroso nodded. ‘There is some indication that the perpetrator may be influenced by some kind of black magic or Satanism.’

‘I see. What makes you say that?’

‘I cannot give detail at this point in the investigation, I’m afraid.’

‘So what do you want from me?’ Father Vincenzo’s tone had hardened slightly, James noticed. He clearly did not like to be excluded in any way. Either that or . . . could
he
be responsible? The possibility of a priest committing such atrocities was profoundly shocking. But if he had, then obviously he would want to know exactly what the professor had found out. James looked over at the two men and wondered if the same thought had occurred to Lombroso.

‘Are there any cults or covens that are particularly active in the city at the moment?’ the professor asked.

Father Vincenzo placed his hands together, as if in prayer. ‘There are several. As you know, such people are drawn to this city as moths to a flame. Can you be more precise as to what you are looking for?’

Lombroso paused and stared at him. It seemed to James that he was reluctant to give anything away but he would have to in order to get anything meaningful from Father Vincenzo. ‘Symbols, for one thing. We found something at one of the scenes – an inverted cross. I know, of course, that it is a Satanic emblem but is it one that is of special significance to any of the cults you speak of?’

Father Vincenzo raised his eyebrows. ‘How interesting. Yes, there is a Solomonite sect that use that sign.’

‘For what?’

‘For their rituals – sacrificial mostly – attempts to summon evil spirits.’

Lombroso looked over to James and Ottolenghi. ‘My two assistants found some evidence of such a rite in the tunnels. Murray, tell Father Vincenzo what you saw.’

‘There was a large double circle and three pentagrams,’ James said.

Father Vincenzo nodded. ‘Was there a diamond marked in the centre?’

‘Yes,’ James replied.

‘That signifies the forty-fifth parallel – black and white magic coming together for a common purpose.’

‘What purpose?’ Lombroso asked.

Father Vincenzo frowned. ‘That is the worrying aspect. We have had a number of macabre murders and under those circumstances I would think that the aim is to conjure up something or someone to either deal with or collude with the culprit.’

‘Who?’ James asked, both fascinated and appalled by this information.

‘Only one being could deal with evil on this level: I have no doubt that this rite was conducted in order to summon the Devil himself.’

For a moment silence descended on the room. ‘Ludicrous!’ Lombroso declared.

‘I know you do not believe in the Devil, Professor,’ Father Vincenzo said quietly. ‘But many inhabitants of our city do and that in itself could be dangerous.’ He turned to James and Ottolenghi. ‘I imagine you found certain remains, did you not?’

‘Yes,’ Ottolenghi replied. ‘They looked to be pig and chicken organs.’

‘I see,’ Father Vincenzo said. ‘Well, that is something. But I should warn you that this rite may well have been a mere preparatory exercise.’

‘What do you mean?’ Lombroso asked.

‘To summon the Devil himself the sacrifice must be human.’ Father Vincenzo looked at Lombroso. ‘It is surely possible that the murders were committed for this purpose – to provide human organs as a sacrifice.’

Lombroso shook his head. ‘No, no. The organs are left at the scene, not removed for some ill-conceived ritual. There is no connection. The murders are the work of a person who suffers from moral insanity, albeit at a level that I have not come across before.’

‘I have heard you talk of this before, have I not?’ Father Vincenzo said. ‘I seem to remember that you suggested that such a person could be both rational and insane – an interesting idea.’

‘Indeed, that is what I said, although I am not sure of the extent to which that might apply to the killer.’

‘Why must evil be considered an act of the insane?’

Lombroso looked him in the eye. ‘I do not see evil as anything other than an irrational choice. Indeed, the concept is a conundrum in itself. Does it really exist at all, I wonder?’

‘It is abstract, naturally, but its consequences are clearly visible, as we have all seen.’

Lombroso sipped at his drink and pondered the question carefully. He appeared to be looking around the room at his various artefacts in search of an answer. Eventually he spoke. ‘If evil men had cloven hooves and horns, how simple life would be! That is what people like the members of this cult seem to think, I believe, encouraged by the Church. I do not share that view. Evil can hide in all sorts of places, minds included.’

‘So your research is wrong?’

Lombroso smiled and shook his head. ‘Not at all. Crime is one thing and evil is another. My work tells me that some criminals can be identified physically and are a throwback to more primitive times. Evil, however, is different and much more easily concealed than a tendency towards criminality. A man can be evil in intent but never commit an evil deed.’

‘So you could not then, as an expert in such things, as a scientist, identify an evil man from his appearance?’ Father Vincenzo asked, his eyes narrowed as if preparing not to accept the answer.

‘I think I could, yes,’ Lombroso replied with unfamiliar modesty.

‘How?’ Father Vincenzo asked. He seemed to be enjoying himself.

‘I would look into the eyes, Father. That is where the soul lies. One can see everything, provided that is, one looks in the right way.’ With that Lombroso drew closer, stared into Father Vincenzo’s eyes and smiled enigmatically.

The priest laughed. ‘Say for the purposes of argument that a person is evil, does it necessarily mean that evil has to amount to an irrational choice?’

Lombroso nodded thoughtfully. ‘Choosing evil over good – how very interesting.’

‘We have come full circle, have we not, Professor?’ Father Vincenzo said, a trifle smugly, it seemed to James.

‘Indeed we have,’ Lombroso said. ‘Back to moral insanity – and I am as uncertain as I was before.’

Before Father Vincenzo could respond, the door opened suddenly and Machinetti pushed past the maid who was attempting to prevent him from entering without being announced. He was closely followed by an embarrassed-looking Giardinello. Machinetti paused briefly to acknowledge Father Vincenzo with a deep and ostentatious bow before turning his attention to Lombroso.

‘It has happened again and all roads lead to you, Professor!’

Lombroso looked severely at Machinetti. ‘What has happened?’ he asked in a tone of thinly veiled impatience.

‘There has been another murder . . .’

There was silence as they all tried to take in this information.

‘Will it ever end?’ Lombroso muttered beneath his breath.

‘And this time we have evidence of both your motive and opportunity so I must insist that you accompany me to be questioned.’ Machinetti nodded at Giardinello who reluctantly moved towards Lombroso. James and Ottolenghi stood open-mouthed but silent in response to what was going on. Father Vincenzo looked on, a slight smirk on his face, which, James thought, was a puzzling reaction, particularly after he and Lombroso had seemed to reach some kind of an understanding. Fortunately, at that moment both Borelli and Tullio arrived.

‘Marshal, what is happening here?’ Tullio asked brusquely.

‘I am taking the professor in for questioning,’ Machinetti replied. ‘Yet another body has been found with a note as before. I advise you not to interfere, Tullio. The
questore
himself has authorised this.’

Tullio frowned at him. ‘On what basis are you detaining the professor? Is there evidence?’

Machinetti smiled triumphantly and looked at Lombroso. ‘Oh, there is plenty, I assure you.’

Borelli stepped forward, a look of puzzlement on his face. ‘Who is the victim? We know about one, found last night in the tunnels. But who is the other?’

Machinetti took a deep breath, puffing himself up until he looked like a fat turkey in a farmyard. ‘There is a fifth victim and he is well known to all of you. It is Dr DeClichy.’

‘DeClichy!’ Ottolenghi exclaimed. ‘But that cannot be. We saw him late last night and he looked to be on his way home!’

‘It is true, I’m afraid,’ Tullio said grimly. ‘He was found early this morning, in an alley off the Via Pietro Micca.’

‘He was strangled then disembowelled,’ Machinetti said with apparent relish.

‘That is indeed a tragedy,’ Lombroso said quietly. ‘That poor man. Why would anyone want to do this to him?’

‘This changes things, Professor,’ Tullio said. ‘The victim is a respectable academic. People will be frightened.’

‘They should be. Who knows where he will strike next?’ Borelli said. ‘What information do you have, Tullio? Is it definitely the same killer as before?’

‘There was a note. That means it must be the same killer,’ Machinetti declared firmly. ‘Not only that, but DeClichy was known to Lombroso here, as were the other victims. We also have a number of witnesses who have told us that there was bad blood between them.’ He turned towards Lombroso. ‘Come, Professor. It’s down to headquarters with you.’

Giardinello approached Lombroso who protested loudly, in company with almost everyone else. A small scuffle broke out as Tullio tried valiantly to prevent the arrest. Ottolenghi and James joined in. Borelli started to shout at Machinetti. Then suddenly a voice boomed out over them all.

‘How is the faithful city become a harlot! It was full of judgment; righteousness lodged in it; but now murderers.’

They all turned to look at Father Vincenzo who was standing with his hands clasped before him. ‘I will pray for you, Professor.’

‘Thank you, but there is no need, Father,’ Lombroso said. ‘I can assure you all that I have not murdered anyone – well, not directly anyway.’

‘I don’t believe you,’ Machinetti spluttered. ‘You had motive, opportunity and knowledge. It is my duty to arrest you.’

Lombroso nodded patiently. ‘Naturally I would expect nothing less. However, loath though I am to disappoint you, Marshal, I feel that I must point out the fatal flaw in your accusation.’

‘And what is that?’ Machinetti asked. His lips formed a thin line but some spittle had escaped from the one of the corners. James watched him, mesmerised, as it trickled slowly down to his chin.

‘The professor has an alibi,’ Borelli said firmly. ‘We left the dinner together last night then walked back here and sat and talked until Tullio summoned us to the scene of Rosa Bruno’s murder.’

‘It is true. We had much to discuss, given recent events,’ Lombroso agreed.

Machinetti snorted. ‘Why should I believe you?’

Borelli glared at him.

‘Your belief or otherwise is irrelevant, Marshal,’ Tullio said. ‘Evidence is paramount here. What reason do you have for supposing that the professor killed DeClichy?’

‘He was heard by various witnesses to have expressed a wish that the man would go away and leave him alone,’ Machinetti replied smugly.

Tullio looked over at Lombroso. ‘Professor?’

‘I did say that on a number of occasions,’ he agreed.

‘But still the man persisted, did he not, and so you decided to take matters into your own hands and do away with him. Isn’t that how it went?’ Machinetti declared forcefully.

‘Really, Marshal, this is not an interrogation!’ Borelli said.

Lombroso put a restraining hand on Borelli’s arm. ‘No, no, Adolfo. Let him finish. I want to hear all the evidence against me. It is most fascinating. So, Marshal, there I was in a state of, well, what would you say – fury, incandescence, apoplectic anger, uncontrollable rage, slight irritation?’

Marshal Machinetti looked at Lombroso with a bemused half smile, as if unsure whether he was being mocked or hearing a confession.

‘And then I ran out into the night and followed DeClichy, having paused briefly to tell Borelli of my movements and asking him to risk his entire career and reputation by giving me a false alibi. Then, having waited for an opportune moment, I smote poor DeClichy down, strangled him and disembowelled the poor fellow with – what? A knife or some such, was it – which I happened to have secreted about my person throughout an opera and a dinner, just in case I should feel the need to kill someone? Then, not content with that, I turned up at the tunnels having been alerted by Tullio here and looked at what – an earlier victim? I have been remarkably active, have I not?’