“I mean… not only that… I know that you… considered… a family tragedy…”
“As I said, we investigated all possible angles and considered that possibility. In that case, it would have made sense for them to fake a ransom, but we didn’t find any real proof, no hints. We searched the tool warehouse thoroughly, the family car, we interrogated Mr Cellini and most of his family and we kept an eye on them for a long time. Trust me, Mr Claps, it really was a case of kidnapping and ransom. It just went wrong.”
Claps remained thoughtful for a long time.
“Thanks for… clarifying.” He said eventually. “One… last thing… I’m sure you’re aware… of the two bodies… found… in the wilderness.”
“Are you trying to find out if there is any connection?” The police chief asked, frowning. “Two young African girls who have never been reported as missing by anybody. They’re very different from Denise Cellini – age, ethnicity and many other things.”
The police chief stood up from his desk, he was ready to bid farewell to Claps.
“Those cases are incredibly different and they’re probably not related at all,” he concluded.
“Yes, but they are all unresolved and have no justice. The culprits are still free and they could strike again any time,” Claps thought.
However, he didn’t say a word.
*
The sun had sunk over the horizon and the air had become a little chilly. The bus from Siena to Follonica arrived at the stop in Massa Marittima.
The only person who disembarked was a tall, bulky black man. He walked a few steps away from the bus stop, keeping his head low. He looked around, trying to find his bearings.
Elaji had been travelling for most of the day – he had taken two trains to reach Livorno and then Follonica, then he had taken a bus. He was dressed as he used to many years ago, when he was still an illegal resident in Italy – a worn hoodie, an old pair of jeans and a very old fashioned jacket. He had a gym bag taken from god-knows-where with a few things inside – all of his belongings for the journey. He had very little money in his wallet and none of his documents – he had hidden these inside his trousers, with an extra supply of money.
He knew Tuscany – for the first few years following his arrival in Italy, he had sold sunglasses on the beach and on the streets. He had never been to Massa Marittima, but he knew the towns and villages on the hilltops. The tourist areas were sheltered but he remembered the weight of the bag full of sunglasses under the scorching sun and the steep dirt roads.
He walked towards the wilderness, he was looking for a place to spend the night. He would sleep outside, as he had done many times in the past, and he would neither feel the cold nor crave any food. He was aware of only the burning heat of hatred and blind determination.
10
Trevis had been surprised by the request for a meeting. He had wondered why Claps had been so insistent, but he didn’t say a word and welcomed him into his office that same afternoon.
He invited him to sit down in the same armchair that Elisa zoned out in every day.
“Claps… Are you the same man who was involved in that atrocious story? What’s the name of that serial killer… Morphy, was that what he called himself in his delirious messages?”
“Yes…”
“I followed the story on the news as many others did, I’m glad to see you recovered, I remember hearing bad news about your health.”
“I’m like… new… almost.”
“That was two years ago, right?”
“Three… more or… less.”
Professor Trevis took a bottle of cognac form his private bar.
“Thanks… no alcohol… for me.”
Trevis poured out a generous amount for himself and sat down again in front of Claps. ‘Like new,’ these words had been enough for him to understand that he had problems with aphasia.
“It’s been a little vice of mine for many a year now,” he said, and took a first sip. “Very well, Mr Claps. I wonder how I can be of help?”
“We are… evaluating… again… some aspects of… the kidnapping of… Denise Cellini.”
“That’s another sad story, did the police find out anything new? After so much time?”
Claps was now convinced that the kidnapping of Denise Cellini had nothing to do with the kidnapping of Ami and the other young victims. However, when he heard that Elisa was following Trevis’ therapy, he had wanted to establish whether it was now possible to ask Elisa anything.
“Only… small details… maybe… irrelevant.”
“Again, I’m still not too sure how I can be of help.”
“I know… you’re tr… treating… her sister.”
“Elisa, she’s her twin actually. It’s a very sad story.”
“She was… with Denise… when she… disappeared… can I ask… the young girl… a few questions?”
Trevis grew tense, then shook his head. He gulped down a mouthful of cognac, it was almost as if he wanted to take some time to find the most appropriate response. He didn’t want anything to upset Elisa and undo the progress that he had made to date.
“That’s impossible. Elisa suffers from a severe form of schizophrenia. The outside world doesn’t exist for her. She doesn’t answer any questions and doesn’t communicate with the people around her.
“I didn’t… know.” Claps lied.
“Her illness worsened when her sister disappeared. Even if she was able to answer your questions, I would probably strongly oppose it. It would be a psychological disaster to take her back to that time.”
“I… see.”
“I’m sure you can understand… you’re also a psychiatrist, right?”
“Yes… but I ne… never worked on… psycho… therapy… I took different… routes.”
It took them a few minutes to relax a little. The atmosphere wasn’t as tense any more.
“How long… has she… been following… your therapy?”
“Only a few months. It’s a long process and there’s no guarantee of success.”
“Any… improvements?”
“Small steps… they’re encouraging though.”
Trevis took one last sip and finished his cognac. He was more relaxed now that he knew why Claps had wanted to visit him and the problem had been solved.
“Elisa has recently begun to make drawings,” he continued. “It’s only a very small door to the world that surrounds her, but it’s something that I intend to work on in the future. I need to be able to communicate with her to help her regain a normal life.”
The Professor pointed to a spot behind Claps.
“The drawing that is hanging on the wall behind you… it’s the first one that she made and it represents a human being, herself.”
Claps turned round and saw a drawing that was a little more than a stick figure. She was blonde and she was floating in the void, her arms and hands wide open, her hair floating in the air.
Claps was struck with a vortex of emotions.
It was like a powerful electric shock.
He turned pale like a ghost.
“Are you okay, Mr Claps?”
“That’s not… Elisa… it’s Denise!”
“Denise?”
“Her left… hand…” He was almost whispering to himself. He was shaking.
“It only has… four fingers.” An electric shock ran through his body again.
“The little finger… it’s missing.”
11
He fell asleep, eventually. He was exhausted. Elaji found a place to sleep a few steps away from the street. It was reasonably far away from houses and hopefully no policeman would give him any trouble.
He hadn’t dreamt his favourite dream that night. He wanted to see Ami, he wanted to hug her and hear her voice. He wanted to tell stories to her and her sister. He wanted to see her eyes open out of awe, a beautiful smile on her face. He wanted to hold her tiny hand with his own, he missed how she tried really hard to hug him well
despite him being way too big for her arms, he wanted to feel her kisses on his cheek. He wanted to stroke her hair, giggling together, smelling her scent and seeing the beautiful colour of her skin.
It didn’t matter if it was only a dream… it would still be her. They would still be together.
The first light of dawn had woken him, he was freezing cold and the night dew had made his hair and clothes damp. The cold was deep in his bones. He had forgotten how difficult it was to sleep rough, but he didn’t care.
He waited for the sunshine, then he decided to get up.
*
Claps woke up at dawn from a short, agitated dream.
After seeing Elisa’s drawing the night before, he had struggled with speech even more – he could only say very short words now. The sentences seemed to slip his mind as soon as he attempted to utter them. Trevis couldn’t understand what had happened to him, and Claps had left the office without saying another word.
Then the vertigo… Denise’s smile, which he had imagined for a long time… her expression turning into awe, fear, terror… her surrender to pain. Eventually her face, her eyes, the deadly oblivion in her soul.
He struggled to get off the bed.
Denise was case zero, she was very different from all the others. Claps was pretty certain about this. The murderer probably acted instinctively, probably without pre-determining his actions, when presented with a sudden, favourable situation.
He had got excited by what he had accomplished. He had craved more.
That was the birth of the monster.
He had struck again by planning a different strategy, he had then established a regular method.
Claps dragged himself into the shower. His muscles were tense and aching, he felt as though he had run a marathon.
His victims were easy, nameless, with no family and no justice.
How many had died in the last five years?
How many trophies did the beast keep in his house?
Claps dressed slowly.
Then he had chosen Ami.
Why her? Was it just to feel powerful, almost invincible? Did it happen just because he had the chance to steal someone else’s identity?
That couldn’t be it. He could have chosen anyone else, not far away from his own area.
Why Ami?
Because he had seen her, he had been close to her, because he had desired her more than anything.
Because he had to make her his, take everything away from her. At all costs.
Because he couldn’t control himself any longer. Because that obscene fire was burning him alive. He could carry on to rape victim after victim… more and more frequently.
Claps walked out into the garden. The air was cold and the sky was grey and overcast. The sea was flat like a table. A feeling of vertigo froze him for a moment.
Denise’s face… her eyes locked into the oblivion.
Ami. Aisha…
The creature’s heavy breath.
The dull sound of the clippers closing together.
Claps walked to the sea shore, then turned around with uncertainty.
Elisa had seen everything. Elisa knew everything.
A few minutes later, he was in front of Trevis’ office – he waited on the opposite pavement. He looked at his watch – it was 7:15 a.m. He didn’t know whether it was better to wait a few minutes before ringing the bell, then he saw the Professor coming out.
Trevis walked towards him.
*
Elaji looked much shabbier than he had intended. His demeanour spoke the language of poverty, hunger, exhaustion. Elaji was staring at his reflection in the mirror of the toilets in a bar – the waiter had let him access the toilets almost unwillingly. All that Elaji could see in the mirror was a lost man, a worn out giant, a black man without any hope or goals.
He bought a bottle of water and some bread at a bakery – his bites were greedy and made his stomach rumble, despite his efforts to ignore the hunger. Elaji sat down on the last step of a small flight of stairs that led to the higher part of the town to eat his piece of bread. Then he stood up, walked a few steps and looked around. He had ended up in a large square, where ancient buildings dominated the view. The steps leading to the cathedral swept into the square like a large ship’s bow as it sails across the sea. Elaji was too tired to appreciate the beauty of that Italian square. The square was also unfamiliar to him and he felt confused and even more like a fish out of water.
An endless number of streets and small avenues ran off it in all directions. Elaji didn’t know where Abedi set up his stand so he would have to explore all of this maze to find him. He walked confidently up the main street into the oldest part of the town. He stopped when he reached the ancient walls and waited for the sun to rise a little more, so that he could enjoy the warmth. He was looking forward to seeing the people in the streets as the shops opened up for the day.
A few minutes later, he was on his way back to the square, this time walking slowly with his eyes lowered. From there, he began to wander through the smaller avenues. Then he saw a stall under an old bridge, a few metres away from the main street.
Abedi – at least Elaji hoped it was him – was busy tidying up clothes on the stall. Elaji observed him for a few seconds – he had to be an Ashanti or a Mossi. He almost dragged his feet as he got closer. When Abedi looked back into Elaji’s, eyes, the two stood still. Elaji nodded slightly then walked slowly towards him. They greeted each other warmly as only people from Africa can. They shook each other’s hands, then Elaji touched his chest, his lips and his forehead. Abedi didn’t reply in the same way, but he nodded back to Elaji. “Mossi, perhaps he’s a Christian,” Elaji thought.
“My name’s Diop Baye and I’m from Senegal,” the Wolof man said.
“I’m Abedi Duah, I’m originally from Ghana but I was brought up in Senegal.”
Abedi stared at Elaji gravely. “You don’t look too good, Diop.”
“I’ve been sleeping rough and I’ve hardly eaten anything, but I’m a strong man.”
“You slept rough?”
“I’m looking for a job, Abedi, and a place to sleep.”
“You’re old enough to deserve respect, you’re not an adventurous young man. What’s your story? What brought you here? If you don’t mind telling me, what happened to you?”
“I arrived three years ago from over the sea. I worked in the north, where the brother of one of my wives lives. I’ve always sent them a share of my earnings, but I’ve never received the documents. Now I’ve lost my job… and I decided to travel to Siena where I was hoping to find one of my relatives who works here. But he’s also gone. They suggested I look for a job at the seaside and in the neighbouring fields, so I decided to take the bus. However I only had enough money to get here.”
“It’s not the right season to work on the beach yet and those who might employ you are in Livorno or Grosseto, you wouldn’t find anyone at the seaside.” Abedi frowned. “You could find something in the fields, maybe.”
“Do you have any jobs to give me? I’m a strong man.”
“You don’t have any documents… I’m sorry but I can’t, I would lose my own authorization.”
Elaji lowered his eyes. “Maybe just for one day. Anything. I will go to the seaside tomorrow or wherever you want.”
“I’m sorry.”
Elaji put his hands on his chest, he nodded slightly and turned round, ready to leave.
He walked two steps away from Abedi.
“Wait.” Abedi stared at Elaji again. “How long is it since you last ate properly?”
Elaji waved his hand in the air.
“You can stay over at mine. We’ll cook something for you and give you a bed for the night. I’ll tell you where to go tomorrow.”
Elaji waited a short while before replying. He put his hands on his chest again.
“I can’t accept this if you don’t let me work for you.”
Abedi nodded slowly, he looked thoughtful.
“I will.”
Abedi looked more serious. “We don’t get a lot of spot checks here, but if anybody stops you don’t say that the clothes are mine.”
“I won’t say anything wrong, Abedi.”
“You’ll have to walk – the way to town is easy but the return will be all uphill.”
“I’m a strong man. How do I recognise Mudiwa?”
“It’s easy, she’s always at the entrance of the market and she has two daughters – one is less than a year old and she always holds her in her arms; she also has a naughty older daughter called Djara.”
*
They were sitting at the bar, al fresco by the seaside.
“Aphasia, huh?”
Claps nodded.
“The sudden burst of emotions that were triggered by the drawing worsened your condition and made it impossible for you to talk.”
“Yes… but I’m okay… now.”
“I knew you would be back… if not, I was going to find you.”
Trevis drank all of his espresso in one gulp while Claps was still stirring the sugar into his.
“You owe me some explanations.”
“I’ll have to tell you… confidential… information.”
“You can rest assured with me, I’m used to keeping secrets in my line of work.”
“Very… well.” Claps sipped at his coffee. “It’s a long… story… bear… with me.”
Claps told Trevis everything, with exasperating slowness and great effort.
Elisa knew everything. Elisa had seen everything. She kept everything buried inside her and had locked the door.
Trevis was the key to open it again.
“Four fingers…” The Professor listened silently, without interrupting him. “It might be a coincidence, it’s only a drawing after all. You know, most cartoon characters normally have only four fingers.”
Missing Page 12
