The Disappearance of Signora Giulia (9 page)

‘That Saturday he sends the letter and hopes the response will come via the usual means before Thursday. Thursday morning, when he sees that no letter with my wife’s signature has arrived, he supposes Barsanti has not given any thought to the warning or the news he’s received. It’ll be necessary, therefore, to put pressure on Signora Giulia.

‘He must already have suggested to my wife that morning that she shouldn’t be going to Milan in the afternoon, and she would have been afraid. So she writes the letter that Sciancalepre found in viale Premuda a few days ago. It arrives in Milan a few days late, perhaps misdirected, and by that time Barsanti has already left for Rome. My wife would have gone out to post it at around ten that morning. Demetrio, sensing something’s up, enters the house an hour later to press home the threats. He shoves her down the hall and she screams – Demetrio loses his cool and shuts her up for ever…

‘The body is taken into the cellar via the internal staircase. The button I found under the wood on the cellar floor must have been torn from her dress when the killer dragged the body by the shoulders. The proximity of the cistern to the coach house is known only to Foletti; and he thinks he’ll put the lifeless body there. The route from cellar to cistern is hidden from sight. And the house is empty except for the typist, who’s in my office, which faces via Lamberti.

‘I’m in court for a trial and won’t be coming back before midday. Teresa is home and won’t know anything. Foletti has
time to return to the house, take the suitcases, jumble some of my wife’s clothes and linens into them and hide them in the cistern, not forgetting a purse or two. Inspired by Barsanti’s letter, which he’s intercepted, and in which the scrupulous rep discourages my wife from any such action, he fakes the flight.

‘I haven’t forgotten about the jewellery. When a wife leaves she always takes her jewellery with her. He knows, does Demetrio, that her jewellery constitutes a small fortune in itself. For this reason, he makes sure he doesn’t put it in the suitcases, which neither he nor anyone else will ever unearth. He hides the jewellery, locked in a travelling case the size of your palm, by burying it in the greenhouse under a large urn used as a planter.’

The judge and Sciancalepre listened to the account without batting an eyelid. But at that point the judge exclaimed, ‘So it’s there, the jewellery!’

‘It was,’ Esengrini went on. ‘A few months ago, when I was going back to the park every now and again at night, it was precisely as a result of having found the body that I was more than ever convinced I’d find the jewellery. Demetrio had followed all my searches. He’d noticed that I was looking underground for my wife in the park, and maybe he guessed that when I’d explored all other corners I’d find the cistern. But he needn’t have worried: all the proof I found was against
me
. Evidently, I was the one with a reason to follow through with the killing – and I had no interest in stirring the law, which, fortunately for me, was dozing.

‘The simulated flight and the missing body saved me from incrimination. The jewellery was the way he’d implicate me, by providing proof against me when necessary. When he realized
I was looking for it seriously and that I’d started to explore the greenhouse, he was forced to move it. He didn’t want to lose it. One day, maybe ten or fifteen years hence, he’d sell it. But the moment might come when it would help him to put the blame on me, and deflect suspicion from himself. It would be better to have the jewellery found in my office.

‘One night I noticed that a huge urn had been moved in the greenhouse. When I moved it, I found that the earth underneath it was freshly disturbed. Demetrio had been forced to take the jewellery out of the park. I hoped he’d taken it to his house. But he had the entire Sormani grounds at his disposal – and this is an important point – grounds to which he’d had free access for years, since the Sormani had entrusted him with looking after their few flowers. And that’s why the shadow trying to kill my son-in-law came from the boundary wall between the villa Sormani and our park. Demetrio entered the grounds at night by the door in via Lamberti, to which he had the key, and went into the park to supervise my movements, while for my part I entered by the same door a bit later and went into the garden. As soon as he found out that my son-in-law wanted to turn the old coach house into a garage, and that he’d be exposing the paving stones by taking up the grass in order to put down cement, he knew the cistern would come to light, and my wife’s tomb would be discovered. I knew it too, and prepared myself for some difficult days.

‘It was more important than ever to find the jewellery and to know where it was hidden, because Demetrio could always use it against me. I felt I was in grave danger. I hid the letter with my forged signature in the Molinari file – S.I.R.C.E.; that is, in a place where it could be found easily upon my instructions,
and I waited for further developments. Demetrio must have guessed that my son-in-law was planning to surprise the nocturnal visitor.’

‘So,’ the judge interrupted, ‘your son-in-law told him that he was planning to catch the visitor, and Demetrio might have had the impression that Fumagalli was planning to act on his own.’

‘For that reason,’ Esengrini went on, ‘he decided to surprise Fumagalli in the grounds, and to kill him without making any noise. When he was found with his skull fractured, who’d be accused if not me? My daughter knew I was walking around the park at night.’

‘She knew it, and she’s the one who saw you first,’ Sciancalepre interrupted. ‘And Demetrio also told Fumagalli, pointing out that he’d seen your shadow looking in the greenhouse with an electric light.’

‘So we’re all together now,’ said Esengrini, ‘and we can go on. If Fumagalli had been dead and they’d arrested me, of course I’d have had no choice but to deny it. It wouldn’t have done to bring to light the body of my wife; it would have complicated my position to the point of absurdity. After the killing, the work on the garage would certainly not have gone forward. My daughter, horrified, would have left the villa and the grass would have continued to grow over that bit of the courtyard for who knows how long. The cistern would have kept its secret. But Demetrio could in any case have sent me to prison with the discovery of the jewellery. He could in fact have presented himself to the court as soon as my arrest was made public, to say that he felt it his duty to hand over a package I’d entrusted him to hide on my behalf. And he could
still do that, not knowing that the two letters which nail him have been found.’

The judge was of the opinion that Foletti should be arrested immediately, since even if he played his trump card – presenting the jewellery and claiming that he’d had it from Esengrini or had found it in a hiding place – there was enough by now to convince him to admit to the crime. Sciancalepre promised to formulate a plan and put it to the judge. Esengrini returned once more to his cell, and the judge left.

The final act in the drama would feature Sciancalepre as protagonist. In the meantime, poor Barsanti was released, since by now he was out of the frame.

The entire city of M—— was convinced of Esengrini’s guilt. Even the papers considered the case closed. Fumagalli and his wife decided to go away and stay in Switzerland for a few weeks to escape the journalists and paparazzi. Leaving their keys at Demetrio’s house, they took off right after delivering their deposition to the investigating judge.

The conditions under which Sciancalepre had to act couldn’t have been more favourable. Demetrio Foletti might suspect some manoeuvring on Esengrini’s part in order to escape the two terrible charges against him. He might also have a rough idea of what Esengrini’s line of defence was from the choice of witnesses summoned by the judge, and what was being prepared against him. The jewellery was definitely a serious problem for Foletti, since he would have sacrificed it just to save himself from prison and in order to implicate Esengrini definitively. Esengrini based his plan on these considerations and sketched it out to the judge, who gave Sciancalepre free rein.

Sciancalepre moved the very next day. He sent for Foletti to come to his office and kept more or less to this argument: ‘Esengrini vehemently denies the charges, but all the proof is against him. We’ve even confiscated from his house the club he intended to kill his son-in-law with when he realized he was about to discover the cistern. Now we need to find the
jewellery. Esengrini’s office and apartment have been thoroughly searched without results and we have to consider, now, where the jewellery could be hidden in the old house – either in what was once his office or in some other spot in the wing he and his wife once occupied and which has now been vacant for some years. We’ll carry out a long and painstaking search and you must help us, since you’re more familiar with the place than any of us. We’ll break down the walls, take up the floors…’

Foletti agreed immediately and the search began at around ten the next morning. Accompanied by Foletti, a sergeant and an officer, Sciancalepre opened the Fumagalli apartment with keys that had been left with Teresa; they also took the keys to Esengrini’s old office and quarters.

They started their search in the office. At twelve-thirty the operation was suspended for lunch. Sciancalepre couldn’t do without his pasta, but he advised Foletti to be back on the spot at two on the dot, and set off with his officers to eat. Foletti left the three of them in via Lamberti and went into his house opposite the palazzo Zaccagni-Lamberti.

The Commissario sent the sergeant home and, along with officer Pulito, he ran to the gate of the park, climbed over it, crossed the garden and went through the cellar into Esengrini’s old apartment. Sciancalepre had taken the keys of the apartment with him as he’d left: he knew very well that if Foletti had swallowed the bait and wanted to come in and hide the jewellery there so it would be found later that afternoon, he had the means to do so.

In the entryway, two cupboards stood against opposite walls facing each other. Sciancalepre went into the one on the right and Pulito the one on the left. In order to enter the house and
from there get into the apartment, Foletti would have to pass through that entryway.

Inside the cupboard, Sciancalepre calmed his panting after running and climbing over the gate. In the darkness his breath grew quiet, and he was about to crack open the cupboard door in order to get some fresh air when he heard a noise from the rusty hinges of the door that opened onto the courtyard. He waited a moment before bursting out of the cupboard and shouting to Pulito: ‘Out!’

Demetrio Foletti stood in the middle of the hallway. Sciancalepre pointed the barrel of his revolver at his breast, while Pulito stationed himself behind him.

‘Against the wall with your arms spread!’ the Commissario commanded.

Pulito pushed Foletti along, taking hold of him by the neck and kneeing him in the back.

‘Search his pockets,’ Sciancalepre ordered Pulito, his gun still pointed at Foletti.

Pulito began with Foletti’s jacket pockets, throwing everything he found to the ground: a handkerchief, a large jackknife, a box of matches. He then went through the trouser pockets, pulling out a heavy sack. Sciancalepre signalled for Pulito to pass him the sack.

He felt it, untied it, and folded down the sides: a blaze of glittering diamonds. Signora Giulia’s jewellery. He took a pin between two fingers and held it up to examine it. He’d seen it so many times at the edge of her collar, on her breast! He put it back and took out a strand of pearls coiled between the gold and the diamonds, dangling it in front of them for a moment before squeezing it and letting it fall back into the sack. It was
warm. After having been warmed so many times against the soft neck of Signora Giulia, it had now, inside Demetrio’s pocket, absorbed the heat of a killer. He put the sack of jewellery in his own pocket and calmly turned to Foletti.

‘Show me the exact spot where you killed her.’

Foletti had turned round but Pulito kept him against the wall, his arms spread.

‘Let him go,’ ordered Sciancalepre, having stationed himself at the door leading out to the courtyard. He turned again to Foletti. ‘Walk!’ he said loudly.

Foletti walked to the end of the hallway and turned round, wringing his hands and crying out, ‘It’s not true! It’s not true!’

‘Killer!’ Sciancalepre shouted. ‘We found the letter you forged and another from Signora Giulia to Barsanti accusing you. Where were you going with the jewellery? And where have you been keeping it until now?’

Foletti remained with his face to the door. His entire body began to tremble.

‘Where did you kill her!’ Sciancalepre screamed once more.

Foletti nearly fainted. Sciancalepre and Pulito carried him into the drawing-room, put him in a chair and sat on either side of him. When he came to, the Commissario demanded, ‘Well? Tell me where you were going with this sack in your pocket!’

‘Signor Commissario, I’m innocent! I haven’t killed anyone. The killer is him, Esengrini. And now I’ll show you how.’

‘The day Signora Giulia disappeared,’ he began, ‘I left the office just after midday, as soon as Esengrini got back from court. His typist had gone a few minutes before. Signora
Giulia must still have been in the house, because I heard a door shut in the apartment. My wife had left about half an hour earlier, having finished her work. The lawyer stayed in his office and I went home. About half an hour later I saw Esengrini go out and I knew that he had set off to tell you about the signora’s disappearance. After a few days of doubt I became certain that the lawyer had killed his wife and hidden her body in the house or garden. I looked for a long time, all over the park, and once I saw Esengrini going over the grounds with an Alsatian; I persuaded myself that far from looking for his wife – he knew very well where she was – he was actually trying to ascertain whether a dog could have discovered her burial place. I noticed that he halted with the dog in the clearing in front of the coach house with particular insistence, and I became suspicious that it was actually there that he’d buried Signora Giulia, but in such a way that not even a fox could have sniffed her out. I recalled that under the courtyard there was a cistern, hermetically sealed by a stone sunk into it.

‘A few days had passed since the disappearance and there’d been some rain, so it wasn’t possible for the dog to follow a scent, even less so since Esengrini would not have dragged the body, but carried it over his shoulders after opening the manhole and then dropped the body into it. He must have gone down after the body to drag it into a corner of the cistern, where he probably also put down the suitcases. Only the floods, later, must have made them float up to the surface where they could be seen from the opening. Without the floods, perhaps the builders would never have discovered the body.’

‘But,’ the Commissario interrupted, ‘when did you become certain about all this?’

‘A few days afterwards, on a day when Esengrini was in Milan and I went to lift the lid on the cistern. I looked inside with an electric light and saw everything.’

‘So why didn’t you come to me with your discovery?’

‘Because I was afraid of being charged with the crime. I had more than once made the signora aware that I, too, was a man, and she might have told her lover in Milan that I was trying it on with her. Maybe she’d left some trace – I don’t know – a confidence to a friend, a letter, a diary entry that indicated something. And then, since I’m innocent, it suited me that the signora should be considered to have fled, or to have ended up who knows where. But perhaps you didn’t know she had a lover in Milan?’

‘Come on! But how did you know? And all these things – why did you never come and tell me, at least in the past few days since Esengrini was arrested?’

‘I knew she had a lover because she had him write to my house. I discovered it by opening some of the letters without my wife’s knowledge, and then closing them carefully so the signora wouldn’t notice. My wife would have thought they were letters from Signorina Emilia. I didn’t say a thing to her; but I read some and it seemed to me that Signora Giulia had a lover near where she went every Thursday, in viale Premuda: some Barsanti. When I realized this, I got it into my head that Signora Giulia was an unsatisfied woman, and that if she had a thing going with this Barsanti, maybe there was a little hope for me, too. I let her know what I was thinking, but there was nothing in it for me apart from scorn – and little gifts of money
to keep me sweet. My little whim, a bit of nothing, really, started there – with that scorn – and ended up trapping her, with some success, actually.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Nothing important – just so… to keep me happy. But I had to accept that she loved Barsanti, and there was nothing I could do about it.’

‘But how did Esengrini know about Barsanti?’

‘I don’t know. He probably knew more about all of this than me, to act as he did. If he killed her, he had to have a reason, something that drove him to it.’

Sciancalepre cut him off. ‘Let’s get to the jewellery.’

‘I didn’t know that the jewellery was missing. Or rather… that Esengrini had hidden it without putting it in the suitcases, in order to make it seem like she’d fled. I realized what had happened a year later. One morning when I went into the greenhouse, I saw that a large vase of lemons had been moved. It was chance, since the vase was behind some others. Surprised, I moved it to one side and saw that the earth underneath it had been disturbed. I thought an animal, maybe a mole, had been making a burrow. I took up a hoe and immediately struck it against a metal box. It was the little case in which the signora kept her jewellery. Inside, in a sack, the same one you have in your pocket now, were her jewels. I thought if Esengrini had moved them from some initial hiding place, there had to be a reason.

‘I can tell you that one day while I was talking to Signora Giulia and trying to get her to give in, it occurred to me that her husband, who’d tiptoed from his office, must have caught on. He said nothing; on the contrary, from then on, he treated
me with the utmost kindness. That episode, however, must have given him the idea of fingering me as the murderer. His daughter, Signorina Emilia, didn’t look him in the eye any more. One day soon, the body would be discovered, and Esengrini, having planned all this ahead of time, was preparing evidence against me.’

‘Ah, so that’s how it is? And the letter to Barsanti, you never wrote it, by tracing over Esengrini’s signature? We have the letter! And the document with the original signature! It’s all over, my good man. It’s time you told us the truth.’

‘What letter! What signature? I never wrote any letter.’

‘But you knew Barsanti’s address?’

‘Yes, I read it in one of his letters to the signora, the one where he said he’d found a pied-à-terre at viale Premuda, n. XY.’

‘There you go!’

‘But why should I have written to him?’

‘Because you were jealous. To intimidate him. And you wrote to him on Esengrini’s letterhead, with his signature, tracing it against the window from a sheet underneath that had his true signature on it. You can’t deny it: we have the evidence!’

‘As far as I’m concerned, if what you say is true, it’s evidence against Esengrini. Having decided to kill his wife, he prepared all the evidence against me. In fact, he could have traced over his own signature. And also, doesn’t it say something to you that he saved those documents so carefully for three years?’

‘So why’s the jewellery in your pocket?’

‘I was coming to that, Signor Commissario. When I found the jewellery under the vase in the greenhouse, I knew it had been put there on purpose. In fact, only I could have hidden
it there. Wasn’t I the gardener? I took it away and hid it somewhere else.’

‘Where?’

‘On top of a tree. See that cedar over there? Halfway up the trunk, you can still see the little jewellery case secured to the top of a branch by four nails. Only by cutting down that tree, which is two hundred years old and will live for another four hundred, could someone have discovered the jewellery.

‘Esengrini noticed that I’d removed the jewellery. A few months later he checked under the vase, and saw that the little box was no longer there. So he knew that I’d found him out, and thinking that I’d simply moved it somewhere else he patiently began looking for it. Every day I found some sign of his nighttime searches. He was set on looking at the ground, while the jewellery was up in the air! I began to think that without that particular means of accusing me, Esengrini could simply find others in order to nail me. But I felt fairly calm: the courts seemed to have archived the case.

‘Years went by, and finally Signorina Emilia got married and her father moved out of the house. Fearing that I’d hidden the jewellery badly and that Fumagalli would find it some day or other, he started looking again. He even used a plumb line: I’m sure of it, because one day he had a specialist come to the office and he pretended just to be curious, asking him how to use one of those cords with lead on it. During moonlit nights, he’d come to the park and spend an hour or so looking.