Missing

by Monty Marsden

  “Can I… see?”

  Dr Portanova ignored Claps.

  “The results were so good that I had an idea. The best image was that of Aisha smiling very lightly – you know, that kind of expression that children have when you ask them to pose for a souvenir photo. I looked for a photo of a young black girl on the internet, I found a suitable one and downloaded it. I swapped the face with Aisha’s and thereby gave her a body.”

  Dr Portanova opened a drawer and pulled out a photo. He handed it to Claps. “Here…”

  Claps stared at the photo for a long time, in awe.

  Aisha was barely smiling, she looked confused and perhaps a little scared. She was out in an open field, her eyes were big, she was wearing a red tank top. The soil was dry, some grass was scattered around, a black man was walking past in the background.

  Aisha. She was alive again.

  “I worked on the colours. And on the paper. I wanted the photo to look a few years old.”

  *

  “I studied the bone sections near the amputation on the microscope.” Dr Manara said. She was accompanying Claps as he left the laboratory. “It’s likely to have been a voluntary amputation in both cases. However, it wasn’t a single-cut amputation caused by a sharp, heavy weapon like the official reports of the autopsy say.

  “How… then?”

  “The visible marks on the bones are clear – the finger was pressed heavily for a few moments before the blade reached the necessary force to cut the finger off. There wasn’t just one blade – there were two opposite ones. The murderer used clippers.”

  “What about… Ami?”

  Dr Manara lowered her eyes.

  “Again, clippers.”

  “The same… for all?”

  “There’s no evidence to suggest that different tools were used but that doesn’t mean much. We can’t tell whether it’s the same clippers.”

  It had begun to rain. They were just outside the front door. Claps wrapped himself up in his coat.

  “Will you keep me informed, Claps?”

  “I… might… need you.”

  “You know where to find me. What will you do now that Aisha has a face?”

  “I’ll try to find her.” Claps touched the photo in the internal pockets of his coat. “In somebody’s… memories.”

  7

  “Four years? That’s a very long time for anyone to stay in the camp.”

  The senior deputy head of the central police station in Massa Marittima frowned in reply to Claps’ request.

  “All we need… to know… is that he was… at the camp… at least… four years… ago… and that we can… interview him.”

  The old policeman thought about it for a few seconds as he massaged his grey goatee. “Abedi. Abedi Duah, that’s his full name, I believe. We all call him Abedi here.”

  “Four years ago… he was…”

  “He was at the camp. He was there for a long time. It’s all good now, he lives in an apartment, he has his permissions and he has a job. They all know him well here.”

  “What… job…?”

  “He owns a stand, his goods are more or less legal, but we tolerate.” The policeman pulled a face with the intent to justify himself. “Abedi is a good man and has never hurt anybody. He’s always happy to help with different things – he works in the fields, he moves furniture.”

  “Is it possible… to meet him?”

  “I’ll ask him to come over straight away, if you like. He’ll be here in less than half an hour, I’m sure.”

  Claps shook his head, he didn’t want to worry Abedi by calling him into the police station with urgency.

  “We should… meet him… in his environment.”

  “A casual kind of meeting – is that what you mean?”

  “You’ll have to… help me.”

  *

  It was pouring with rain. The clouds were grey and low. There was no ray of sunshine, no hope. Everyone in the town seemed to be gathered around Ami’s coffin.

  Elaji kept Rama, who was visibly fragile, close to him. His heart felt like stone. He wished he could feel the pain, especially that day, that moment. He wished he could accompany Ami during her last journey on the earth by offering her his pain with love, and not the endless anger that was tearing him apart.

  He wanted to be the Elaji that he’d always been, capable of being just and to give others what it was just for them to receive from him. His love for Alissa and Rama, his honesty and his pride in the world and that day… that day, his immense pain for Ami.

  But things had been different for a while now, there was room only for a violent pain, an acute, impotent anger that roared inside him, that caused his muscles to vibrate without being released.

  Elaji’s cheeks were not crossed by any tears – only the rain.

  As much as he desired it, he couldn’t abandon himself to the pain, not even for a moment.

  His dry, hardened eyes saw Ami disappear in a hole in the ground.

  Forever.

  *

  “Now that I think about it, Abedi…”

  The old policeman acted wisely – he walked past the stand and greeted Abedi casually, then he stopped as if a sudden thought had crossed his mind and turned back towards him.

  “Were you still at the camp four years ago?”

  “Yeah, I lived there for a while, as you know. Three years ago, I finally got my own place.”

  “Your house is beautiful.”

  “It’s not big, but it is certainly beautiful. I always pay my rent and I have a fridge and a TV.”

  “And a satellite dish.”

  “I like my football, I can’t live without it.”

  “Which… team?” Claps asked, he tried to feign interest in the conversation for he had been silent for a while.

  Abedi smiled at him and showed a line of very white teeth. “Among Italian teams, I like Juventus, but I support Chelsea. Michael Essien, my idol and a football star from my own country, plays for Chelsea.”

  “You have a good life, then.” The policeman spoke amicably. “You only need a wife now.”

  “A wife? No, I have two back home already. I send them some money, but I’m okay by myself here. I might bring my sons over here to work in the future.”

  “Listen, Abedi, maybe you can help me.” The policeman pulled Aisha’s photo out of his pocket and handed it to Abedi. “They sent me a photo of somebody who may have been here four years ago. Do you remember seeing her anywhere, maybe at the camp?”

  Claps focused on every detail of Abedi’s expression. As soon as he took Aisha’s photo, his face and his body started sending out signs of distress. He frowned a little, wrinkling his forehead lightly. He raised his eyelids and the white part of his eyes above the iris was more visible now. His lips opened a little, revealing his teeth.

  Surprise.

  A moment later, his eyelids lowered a little, the corners of his mouth drooped, his lips were re-united again.

  Sadness.

  Finally, his mouth shut, his eyes narrowed, the wrinkles on his forehead disappeared and then re-appeared when he frowned again.

  Anger.

  “It’s a young girl… why do you want to know about her?”

  “Nothing in particular, Abedi. We’re just checking, she never did anything wrong… nor did her parents.”

  “I’ve never seen her before.”

  “Are you sure, Abedi? Think again, it was four years ago.”

  Abedi made a quick gesture with his hand, almost as if he wanted to sweep away the problem, and handed the photo back to the policeman. His jaws were clenched, his body was rigid, his eyes looked opaque.

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you,” the policeman said and took back the photo. “Were you talking about Chelsea? That’s a good team and I agree with you, Essien is a great player.”

  *

  Claps was on his way to Milan for the second time in a few days. Now, he was certain about two points.

  The
first one – Aisha was at the camp when she was kidnapped and Abedi remembered it very well.

  The second one – whatever Abedi knew, he wasn’t going to tell the vice police chief, himself or anybody else from the police for that matter.

  What could Abedi know, apart from the date and location of the kidnapping? Perhaps nothing, or he may be aware of details essential to the investigation.

  Claps had to find a way to make him talk.

  He couldn’t help feeling excited – now, he could finally draw the third spot on his map of Tuscany.

  Sensi waited for a little while, then replied to the phone call.

  “I’m sorry, Claps, I’m at a meeting. Let’s talk later.”

  “I’m coming to visit you… I’m returning… four… five hours at most.”

  “Any news?”

  “Wait for me… at the office.”

  Claps stood on the accelerator and left Massa Marittima behind.

  *

  The white and the black armies were locked in battle. Trevis was playing the white pieces and was clearly leading the game, the black pieces were struggling.

  The Professor was playing well and patiently that night – no tricks or silly attacks. He was focused on how to win the game without making errors or taking useless risks. He wanted to win and he knew he was going to.

  He glanced at the clock – his time limit was still far away and he could think carefully about his next move.

  The thought of Elisa struck him suddenly, as if it had sprung from nowhere, while he was pondering the vulnerability of his opponent.

  Elisa. She was one of the most difficult cases that he had ever worked on. Schizophrenia was one of those illnesses that, according to most of his colleagues, could not be cured by psychotherapy.

  There was a knot in the mind of that young girl, a knot that had alienated her from the outside world and had distanced her personality from her body. The knot kept her anchored, protected and enslaved at the same time in her crystal case. She was distant and inaccessible. Her illness had begun during her early years, but the disappearance of her sister had exacerbated its symptoms. That tragedy had tied the knot excessively, almost to suffocation. And yet, her attempt to draw allowed Trevis to nurture the shadow of a hope.

  Trevis was lost in his thoughts – the chess table was a distant memory.

  Nothing had been easy in his career. In the beginning Bench had been a lot easier – he had been able to communicate with him early enough – but his patient had experienced extreme distress throughout. Bench would become extremely and unexpectedly violent, then calm down a moment later, as quickly as it had all begun. It was dangerous to be near Bench during those episodes, Trevis had definitely taken risks. He still wasn’t happy about Bench’s decision to reduce his medication before his gigs – he didn’t find it safe.

  His opponent coughed and he was catapulted back to reality. Trevis glanced at the clock again. He had wasted most of his time without even realising. The position of the chess board seemed different now – he saw his next move, he would destroy his opponent’s right wing. He thought about it for another second, then moved his knight to the middle. He was preparing to attack.

  His adversary responded immediately, he moved a pawn from the other side of the board. The immediacy of his reaction made Trevis suspicious. Then he understood – in moving his knight, he had left his queen vulnerable to attack and his adversary had taken advantage of that. The match was about to end soon.

  *

  “He’s… here!”

  Claps pointed to the red circle that he had drawn on the map.

  “Are you certain about this?” Sensi was perplexed. “I mean, your theory on distances… it’s only a theory after all. It’s difficult to be certain about it.”

  “Yes… a theory… but tell me… if you were… the ogre. If you had killed… two girls… in a year… where would you… hide the… bodies? Near your… hide-out? Or would you… separate them… as much as you can?”

  “That’s fair enough, but…”

  “Would you… kidnap… near the place where… you intend to dig… a pit?” Claps didn’t wait for Sensi to reply. He carried on authoritatively. “Look at the map… it’s a hilly area… almost fully covered in… woods and forests… fields… hills and valleys… very few towns and villages… and above… above all… not many roads… to move on.”

  Sensi observed the map once again, he looked closely at the road connections.

  “Do you mean that he didn’t have many roads to choose from to separate his hide-out from the kidnapping and the burial areas respectively? Do you mean that consequently there are very few possible places that he could depart from?”

  Claps nodded, then he pointed again to the red circle on the map.

  “The ogre is… here.”

  “That’s a fairly large area.” Sensi pondered, doubtfully.

  “There aren’t… many… towns and villages… medieval villages on top of high hills… very few inhabi-tants.”

  Claps pointed to them on the map. “Prata… Montieri…”

  “Boccheggiano… Monterotondo…” Sensi carried on for him.

  “And smaller… suburbs… no more than… four… or five thousand… inhabitants… in total.”

  Sensi stared at the map thoughtfully for a while.

  “Let’s exclude… women… the elderly… children… there must be… two thousand inhabitants… maybe less.”

  “Okay, we’ll consider this. We’ll follow this path together with others, we’ll compare the data with the investigation that we’re doing on the hospital staff where Beattie was hospitalised. I’ll send Fuggiano to the area.”

  Claps tensed up. “We need to be… cautious with this investigation… and need someone… with previous experience… in similar cases… to find him. He is not… a regular… murderer.”

  He stared into Sensi’s eyes, decisively. “I’ll… go.”

  Sensi looked at him, astonished. “Listen, this is too much for a retired policeman.”

  “Expert… consultant.”

  “I can’t let you go though. The work that you did for us so far has been wonderful, but what you’re proposing to do now is completely different from a consultation and a few questions here and there…”

  “Li-sten.” Claps stopped him. “There’s nobo-dy else more suitable than me for this… job.” He paused for a little while, then he carried on speaking. “You know… that I’ll… do it anyway… you can’t stop… me.”

  This time, Sensi remained silent for a while.

  “Sooner or later, somebody will find out and I’ll get fired.” He sighed in the end.

  “I will need… logistic support… search.”

  “We’ll begin to investigate whether anybody from that area has any criminal records of paedophilia.”

  “Find out… any histories of… violence endured… during childhood… it’s a common feature…. among ogres.”

  Sensi nodded. “Do you need any agents? Maiezza would be happy to work with you again.

  “Maybe… in a few days… for now… better alone.”

  “When are you going to set off?”

  “Tomorrow… I have to do something… first.”

  Tomorrow. First, he had to find a way to make Abedi spit out what he knew. Claps had an idea or two of how to make that happen.

  8

  He had finally found it. He had followed the description in the report and it was there, near the river, not far away from where they had found Ami’s remains.

  Elaji hadn’t turned up at work for days, now.

  The sky was overcast and foretold of rain. The grey river flowed sluggishly.

  “Vous aussi struggle to speak.”

  “It was… an accident… years ago.” Claps said.

  He was sat next to Elaji on a stone near the river.

  “With the voiture?”

  “No… a knife… a murderer that I was… hunting down.”

  Elaji gave him
a diffident look. “You don’t have any scars on your throat.”

  “He cut… an artery in my leg… I lost too much… blood… for too long.” Claps pointed to his head. “My brain… didn’t get enough of it.”

  “Did he run away?”

  “No, we got… him. We didn’t… let him… hurt anyone… else.”

  “Vous paid a high price.”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you do it again?”

  “Yes.”

  Elaji stared into his eyes for a moment.

  “I’m not going to talk – I’ll just limit myself to listening to what you have to tell me.”

  Claps glanced at the river, then he replied.

  “I want to… stop… the man who… took Ami. She wasn’t… the first one.”

  Elaji stood up and felt each one of his muscles twitch violently.

  “He will find other… victims if we… don’t stop him.”

  Claps spoke slowly of the two victims in Tuscany and the Massa Marittima camp.

  Eventually, he spoke about Abedi.

  “He knows… quite a lot… maybe he could help us… find the kidnapper.”

  Claps looked into Elaji’s eyes – they were lost in the horizon. “He doesn’t talk to us… he doesn’t trust us… We are not… his people.”

  Elaji lowered his eyes to look at the slowly flowing water in the river. His face remained expressionless.

  A long pause – they sat still.

  After a while, Claps stood up. He handed Elaji a business card, then walked towards the bank. “That’s my number… call me when you need me.”

  A few moments later, Elaji looked away from the river and saw that Claps was walking away. His eyes glimmered with cold, firm determination. It was the same determination that Claps had counted on.

  *

  The weekly market was exceptionally crowded for Massa Marittima was bathed in warm sunshine.

  The man moved his hat lower down on his forehead. The big sunglasses concealed his eyes.

  The man was focused on one subject.

  She wasn’t as pretty as Ami, but her eyes were big and beautiful.

  Ami.

  He had never desired anyone more than her.