The Broken Frame (4 page)

“Yes Vincent. He stopped at the bank before going to that address.”

“I see. How many people live in the building?”

“Twelve families.”

"This is useful information. For now we can say we’ve made a small step forward. A very small step."

“There’s one more thing, Vincent.”

“Tell me.”

“Fifteen days ago, that building was reported to be a brothel.”

“Reported? How?”

"It was during the trial of a new product we recently started using. It’s connected to the Police computer database. The application is installed on your phone, and allows citizens to report crimes anonymously. The process is simple, you indicate the place on a map and add a note to describe the type of offense that is being committed."

“Interesting. Is that incident under investigation?”

“Not yet. Felonies must be reported at least three times before we take any action, otherwise there’s a big risk that the report may be an act of vengeance.”

“In a case of prostitution, the report may have come from an unsatisfied customer, is that what you mean?”

“Exactly. I just wanted to tell you so you could add it to your information. ”

“You’ve done well. What do they call this new system?”

“They call it Breath of Wind.”

A peal of laughter accompanied the  answer.

“It would be hard to find a better name.”

"You are right Vincent. Now that you know, how do we make progress?"

"The first thing for us to do is call the tax office. We need to establish details of the tax returns from all the families who live in that building. After that we’ll plan our next move.”

“Right, then I’ll move quickly.”

There was no need for any further clarification between the two cops. The Inspector knew his friend well, and in this type of case, the Commissioner would know exactly where he was going.

Germano, however, once he was alone, began to wonder how he should proceed with the investigation. After all, the tax office data would represent only a tiny part of the facts. It was therefore necessary to begin a parallel investigation. An independent investigation.

With that in mind, the right person to approach was Mrs. Bezzi, wife of the late Carlo Riva.

Germano was able to make an appointment at the lady’s house for that afternoon. Located in the fields outside Grottaferrata, it was built in an Art Nouveau style, surrounded by vineyards that seemed to produce excellent grapes. Germano reached the house and went inside.

Mrs. Bezzi met him after returning from the grave, and despite the heat, she was wearing a hat and a scarf. Inside the house, the furniture made it obvious Mr. and Mrs. Riva liked to buy the highest quality art works for themselves.

“Well Commissioner, I believe that you must have some news, since you’ve come all the way out here.”

“Well, yes and no. Mrs. Bezzi, your son is remaining silent, refusing to talk. This is not helping us at all.”

“My son, the poor boy. You must understand how he feels, Commissioner. First his father’s death, and then the handcuffs.”

“You saw the footage. I know how hard this must seem to you, but I couldn’t let him go free.”

“That’s true.”

“Anyway, the investigation hasn’t stopped, even if we do have one man under arrest. But I’m going to need your help.”

“You need my help? What for?”

“Maybe not to find the killer, but to exclude anyone else.”

“I guess you’re going to ask me some extremely personal questions.”

“Well, sort of.”

“Let’s start then.”

“This is not a police interrogation, Mrs. Bezzi. I’m just trying to get a better idea of what happened.”

“Don’t worry, Commissioner.”

“We’re trying to find if your husband had a second life. I mean...”

“That’s impossible!”

“You seem quite confident.”

“I have good reason to be confident.”

“I don’t doubt it. However, did your husband limit himself to only going to the art gallery, or did he often visit his friends?”

“He had friends, but he rarely visited them. Usually they came to our house for dinner at the weekends. I mean, they never joined him just for a cup of coffee.”

“I understand. As for your marriage, was everything fine with your relationship?”

"Commissioner, even if Charles was older than me, I have never thought about leaving him for someone else. He was fine the way he was, I assure you."

“I understand that, but I was talking about some...”

"I think I understand what you meant, Germano. I can tell you again, from that point of view, it was all good."

“You tell me your husband didn’t have a second life, and you say you’re sure about that. But there is always some kind of doubt.”

“Not in this case. When I did have certain doubts, I took the proper measures.”

“Can you explain that better?”

“I hired a private investigator to follow him for several weeks, day and night. Nothing came of it.”

“Can you give me the name of this man?”

“His name is Giovanni Arcangeli. I can give you his phone number.”

“No thanks.”

The rest of the conversation settled on mundane matters, and he uncovered no meaningful insights. After he drank the coffee that Mrs. Bezzi kindly offered, the Commissioner went back to his car. He intended to reach his office as soon as possible.

More details, uncovered by Germano during the interview, put the surveillance of Giovanni Archangel between spring and summer, two years before. It was perhaps too far back to be useful to the Commissioner’s investigation. Despite this, it was essential he made the effort to make sense of it.

He called the private investigator to call at the police station at noon. From the way he acted, and from his body odor, Germano concluded that Giovanni Arcangeli had suffered some recent problems with alcohol. He was a drunk. Even so, he hoped that the man he interrogated could understand all the questions.

“Good morning, Arcangeli, excuse me if...”

“Good morning, Commissioner. Don’t excuse yourself, just tell me what you want.”

"We're investigating the murder of Carlo Riva, and we understand that some time ago, you had the opportunity to observe him closely."

“His wife called me to do the job. I watched from the sidelines for three weeks, but nothing came of it. Commissioner, it seemed like he was a saint."

“Did you take any pictures?”

"Yes, I did. On those few occasions when I watched him meet up with people, that's all."

“With women?”

"No, in both cases they were men. The first time was outside a bank in Rome. The guy with whom he went for coffee probably worked there. In his fifties, and well dressed."

“What about the second time?”

“It was a young man. Older than eighteen, because after the meeting they left in their own cars. I think he may have been the son.”

“Go ahead, tell me about that day.”

"My recollection is all a bit vague, to tell you the truth. It's been almost two years. However I do remember how well she paid me for the work, the highest I'd ever..."

“Just try to stay on our case.”

“Oh yes, sorry. I followed the old man until he stopped at the square in Pietralata. He stayed there for an hour and a half, until the boy came.”

“What did they do?”

“It seems to me that they went to have a coffee. After that, they both returned the way they came.”

"Do you remember the model of the car in which the boy showed up?"

“No, I don’t’ remember it.”

“Okay, we're done for now. Thank you for coming, and please call me immediately if you think of anything else relevant to this matter."

“You can count on it.”

The Commissioner was not entirely convinced by the last words of the strange investigator. The man took his coat, made his way out of his office, and went toward the parking lot.

“V
incent, may I come in?”

“Sure, Angelo, come in, come in.”

“We’ve received the information you requested, about the income taxes.”

“What does it say?”

"That eleven of the twelve families who live in that condo near the Cristoforo Colombo declare more than twenty-five thousand Euros a year."

“Eleven out of twelve? That’s interesting.”

"Yeah, and that's not all. We compared the reported income with their standard of living, and everything fits."

"Well, at this point I only need to ask you which family is not present in the list.”

"It isn’t really a family. It appears that the tax return is for one person. Virginia Lucci, who is single.”

“And her income declaration goes up to how much?”

“Not even five thousand Euros a month.”

"I understand. I want you to assemble a team of two or three people that can keep an eye out for a few days. In the meantime, we’ll dedicate ourselves investigating in another direction."

"Ok Vincent, I’ll go and tell the others."

Mrs. Lucci, in the opinion of the Commissioner, already looked like a person who had something to hide. It remained to be seen whether she was fleeing from something, or just concealing income from the tax office.

Meanwhile, Inspector Parisi briefed his team and gave then the necessary information about Virginia Lucci. Germano decided to make inquiries on his own. Once he’d discovered the identity of woman’s employer, he decided he’d pay him a visit.

The gentleman in question was named Luciano De Vincenzi. He lived just a few steps away from the lady, and declared that he paid her a few thousand Euros for domestic work.

Germano showed up at Luciano De Vincenzi’s house, without calling ahead as he normally did.

“Who is it?”

“The postman! I need you to sign for this parcel.”

As soon as the door opened the man came face to face with the Commissioner's badge.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing Mr. De Vincenzi. I just need to have a little chat with you.”

“Okay, come on in.”

The entrance, and all of the rooms which Germano passed through on his way to the living room, gave off an air of melancholy. They looked more run down than they really were. Like the people who lived in them.

De Vincenzi was elderly, a man in his seventies, with a very pronounced hump. He was more deaf in one ear than the other. During the interview, Germano realized the other man was reading his lips.

“What can you tell me about Virginia Lucci?”

"Virginia? She's a good woman. She kept this house clean for me for several years. She always made sure it was comfortable, in exchange for money of course.”

“How much money?”

“Around three hundred Euros a month. She came twice a week”

“What do you mean she came, past tense?”

“Because she hasn’t showed up for the past two months. She failed to collect her salary the last time, so I thought she’d found something better.”

“Do you remember anything strange about Virginia Lucci’s behavior?”

"To be honest, no. She's always been punctual and hard-working during the five years she’s been working in this house."

“Have you tried to call her or write to her? After you realized she wasn’t coming anymore?”

“She left me her phone number, in case I may need to call her about something, but I never did call her.”

“It’s not my business, but have you thought about how to keep running this house without Virginia? After all, you’re a widower, aren’t you?”

"I’ve had some offers. Some foreign girls are willing to help with the housework in return for just food and lodging. I preferred this solution."

“I understand.”

“Commissioner, this is Virginia’s number. If you do manage to call her, please give her my best wishes.”

“I will, Mr. De Vincenzi, have a good day.”

Germano had the impression that De Vincenzi wanted to end the conversation as soon as possible. Not so much in an attempt to hide something, but to cut his personal agony as short as possible. It was evident that deafness caused him more problems than he pretended to others.

Despite everything, the conversation provided Germano with the means to push the investigation forward.  After a series of checks carried out by the Commissioner, the Virginia Lucci’s mobile phone number turned up on the Internet. Specifically, in ads on erotic websites.

It now became clear why the woman was no longer interested in claiming the three hundred Euros from her last salary.

Germano immediately communicated this latest information to Parisi, who had already organized a team of four people to monitor the meetings and movements of Mrs. Lucci.

At this stage, the range of possibilities appeared to broaden even more. He felt something was still missing before his investigation could go forward in a well-defined direction. The ringing of the phone interrupted the Commissioner’s thoughts.

“This is Germano.”

“Hello Commissioner. This is Venditti.”

“What do you have?”

"There’s a guy on the phone who wants to talk to you. He says he’s the grandson of a Mr. De Vincenzi."

“Okay, put him on the line.”

“Am I talking to Commissioner Germano?”

“That’s correct. How can I help you?”

“My name is Gianlucca, my grandfather asked me to call you. He says that he forgot to tell you something when you came to his house.”

“Tell me what he forgot.”

“It’s about the lady who used to help him at the house, Virginia Lucci. Her son was arrested by the police, that’s why my grandfather...”

“When did this happen?”

“Wait, I’ll ask him. Nearly a month ago.”

“I see. One month ago.”

"Yes, he told me that in those days he didn’t try to call her because he feared that she’d had some big family problems. However, a few days later he read that guy’s name in the newspaper, and then he calmed down."

"Gianlucca, thank your grandfather on my behalf. Also tell him that I will visit him soon."

“He’ll be happy to see you Commissioner. Arrivederci.”

“Ciao.”

Germano recalled reading somewhere how it often happened that when one of the senses fades, it refines the strength of the others. His analysis of the conversation with De Vincenzi was proof of that.