“Everything went well eventually, though. We solved two cold cases in one.
Claps pulled a grim face. “There are… too many… victims… too many… dead children… to say that… everything went well.”
Sensi also looked grim. “We managed to save Djara at least, but you’re right – it’s a terrible story, thank goodness it’s all over.” Sensi sighed. “Denise’s story is also a terrible one… and sad at the same time. It touches one’s heart, that’s for sure.”
“Her father…?”
“We made sure that he didn’t know anything about his brother, but he could still be charged for a good number of reasons. The court has decided he should stay under house arrest for now, but he’s going to pay for what he’s done.”
“What about… the murderer?”
“Remember the document that you wrote on your way back from your first trip to Tuscany? I must have it here somewhere… it matches the profile you wrote about him.”
Sensi looked for the manuscript on his crowded desk.
When he found it, he began to flick through the pages. “This is what you wrote back then:
It is most likely that the man is over thirty, probably closer to forty, quite tall, with a fulfilling job or activity, single or divorced with no sons or daughters. He most likely owns paedophilic or paedo-pornographic material but doesn’t necessarily have a criminal record for paedophilia. Perhaps he was a victim of sexual abuse in the past. He’s a hunter – he knows the wilderness very well and hunts down his victims. He’s a traveller. The choice of Ami had to be planned carefully – he mostly likely saw her multiple times, he familiarised himself with the place where she lived… perhaps while he was working there or visiting the area.
Sensi took off his glasses, which he had needed to read the extract. “Giuliano Cellini was married for a short time in the past – it was a marriage with no children and it ended after about a year. He was a self-made man: he created the factory from scratch and provided many people with employment. His factory wasn’t always successful, he was going through a period of crisis when Denise died. You know how he made it through? By selling cork to the establishment in Crema.”
Sensi paused for a moment in order to inhale, then he carried on. “He’s never been incriminated before, but we found a lot of pornographic material in his house… and that’s not all. Together with magazines and CDs of every kind, his computer is full of videos and photos of naked children and horrible images – there are bodies chopped up by a helicopter rotor blades, decomposed bodies, beheadings.”
Sensi pulled a disgusted face as he was talking.
“His psyche was rotten – when he held Denise’s body in his arms, when he felt that obscene excitement from cutting a finger off her left hand, he decided to turn his sick fantasies into reality.”
Sensi paused once more for a few seconds, he was trying to pull himself together after evoking such horrible images, then he continued again. “I said that he was never incriminated – that’s not quite true. We discovered a police report that was handed in and then quickly cancelled by his parents when he was only twelve years old. It was about an affair that he seems to have had with a school teacher… apparently this teacher was quickly moved to a different school.”
Sensi looked at Claps, a wry smile on his face. “I’ll have to ask you to fill in the lottery card for me one day, Claps. Ah, I almost forgot – Giuliano Cellini was a hunter, of course. He had an obsession with his hobby, he was a member of a few hunting societies, he loved to hunt wild boar but he shot many animals. He used to go abroad quite often to hunt when the season was closed in Italy.”
Claps had remained still, listening carefully to Sensi.
“Beattie’s driving… licence?”
“You mean how did he manage to steal it? We can imagine it but we have no way to prove anything with certainty – we know that Giuliano Cellini was in Siena on the day Beattie had his stroke. Do you know where exactly Beattie had the stroke?”
Claps shook his head.
“In the hotel lobby, as he was about to walk out of the main door. And you know who was staying at the same hotel back then?”
“It must be… Giuliano… Cellini?”
“No, not him, all the names of the hotel guests were checked thoroughly along with the hospital and hotel staff. We would have identified Giuliano Cellini a lot earlier if his name had appeared among those on any of these lists.”
“Then… who?”
“One of the people who bought cork from Giuliano. The owner of a firm in Bologna. They sell hunting bullets. Apparently, bullets are also made of cork, apart from the obvious metallic components. Wadding: that’s what it’s called, I think.”
“Carry… on?”
“Giuliano went to pick up his client from the hotel that morning. Guess what time? Exactly the same time as when Beattie had the stroke and collapsed to the floor in the lobby.”
“So—”
Sensi didn’t let him speak. “Even if we can’t prove it, it’s easy to imagine how Giuliano took advantage of the confusion in the lobby to steal the driving licence.”
Neither of them spoke for a minute.
“So what are your plans now? Are you going to return to your happy, retired, life?”
Claps smiled. “I wouldn’t… mind… helping out… every now and… again… light commissions… you know… stuff like this.”
“Listen, Claps. You’ve been close to kicking the bucket twice now. I’m going to oppose any other missions that might put your life at risk.”
“Did Elaji… get his… driving licence… back?”
“Yeah… he got everything back. His name doesn’t appear on the official reports.”
Sensi shook his head. “You’re a nutter, and I’m equally as crazy because I decided to support you.”
Then, despite everything, a satisfied smile appeared on Sensi’s face.
*
“I got permission to visit you.”
Cellini let Trevis into his house without replying. They both sat down on the sofa in the living room. The house wasn’t that big, the furniture looked reasonably cheap and it had to be the same age as the house, which the family had bought during happier times. There were many photographs of Denise and Elisa – there were no photographs from the time following the tragedy, of only Elisa.
“They took Denise to the cemetery yesterday evening. They didn’t let me be there.”
“I know, that’s harsh.”
Cellini moved his hand a little, to say that it didn’t matter after all.
“I hope that I’ll be allowed to go and visit her one day. Just to bring some flowers. It’s silly, but I miss her. I’ve missed her so much…”
Trevis lowered his eyes, he didn’t say a word.
“Did you see Elisa, professor? How is she?”
Trevis remained silent, his eyes lowered. He felt so old and tired.
He struggled to look up. “She pushed Denise off the cliff, didn’t she?”
Cellini froze, his eyes wide. He sprang to his feet.
“Go away!”
Trevis didn’t blink, he carried on talking gently. “She did it, didn’t she?”
For a few seconds, it was as though time had stopped.
Then Cellini, who looked visibly pale, sank onto the sofa. It was as if he had lost all of his strength.
“It’s going to be a secret between me and you.” Trevis said.
Cellini hesitated, then he began to speak, so faintly that he was almost whispering. “I was crouched down by a tree when I heard the screams. Elisa screamed first. Then Denise. They screamed like nutters. Elisa had attacked her mother twice for no reason; moments later, she was calm and it was as if nothing had happened. It was too late when I arrived – Denise was already at the foot of the cliff. Her eyes were wide open… I still see them every night.”
Cellini covered his face with his hands. A couple of hiccups interrupted his breathing, but he had no more tears to cry.
“Elisa was on her feet on the edge of the cliff, she was like a porcelain doll. She was singing a nursery rhyme to herself. Some kind of lullaby. She was holding a stick in her hand. I took it from her and saw blood on it… and blonde hairs.”
Cellini remained silent for a second. “You know everything else already.”
They both remained silent for a little while.
“How did you guess, professor?”
Trevis took a short while to reply.
“I read the reports of her medical history, Elisa seemed to have been aggressive quite often… then you seemed very concerned about her aggression when you came to tell me about the re-appearance of some of the symptoms, do you remember? ‘Dangerous to herself and those around her’, you said. But that’s not really what triggered everything for me.”
Trevis struggled to find the right words. “Your daughter’s drawings. There was something that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Then suddenly everything happened so quickly that my suspicions lay dormant in a corner of my mind. When I began to think about it again… You see, it’s a matter of chronology, in the last few drawings of hers, the way Elisa drew her characters over time. When she drew herself on the edge of the cliff… when she drew a heavy cross on her sister to indicate that she had died… she only drew herself. You weren’t there, Mr Cellini. According to your version of the story, you had to be there in the drawing if you were guilty.”
Cellini lowered his eyes.
“Elisa added you last in her last drawing… she hesitated for a long time… and then she drew you crouched down… Denise was already at the foot of the cliff. You were crouched down, like somebody who was trying to rescue somebody else or who was praying. That’s because you arrived later. Too late. After Elisa had killed her sister.”
It was a while before Trevis interrupted the long silence that hung in the air after he had finished speaking. “Why did you make up this story, Mr Cellini? The court won’t be clement and understanding – you are going to face some tough years. Elisa won’t be charged, according to the law.”
“She would end up in a mental hospital.”
“That’s possible, but there are a lot of very good hospitals where…”
“I prefer it this way.” Cellini interrupted him, abruptly.
“It’s better for her to be entrusted to somebody who can really take care of her. She’ll also have you on her side… you’ll take care of her, won’t you, professor?”
“I will.”
“Is she ever going to…” Cellini’s voice trembled. “… remember? They told me that it would never happen, but she seems to have remembered a lot with the drawings now that she’s doing better. Is she destined to carry the burden of memories forever?”
“No. Those drawings are only flashes from the unstable memory of the dissociated part of herself. If she ever got her memory back, she wouldn’t remember anything of the past few years.”
Cellini stood up and headed towards the window. He looked to the horizon. “I’ll pay for it all. I can’t let people know the truth, it’s better for the Cellini brothers to be marked as monsters and for her to be loved and cared for by everybody. Believe me, I prefer it this way.”
Trevis nodded slightly.
“Is it going to be a secret between me and you, as you said a few minutes ago?”
“Elisa is following my therapy – anything that I discover about her life from herself or from anybody else will be kept confidential.”
Before walking out of the front door, Trevis turned back again and looked at Cellini. “It’s going to be a secret between me and you.”
He felt so old. And tired.
It was windy out there.
He almost wished that the wind would carry him away.
*
Alissa sat on her father’s lap, ready to hear a story.
“What story do you want me to tell you?” Elaji asked.
“Tell me about the city of gold.”
“Same old?”
“Yes please. Same old.”
Elaji smiled. After so long, his heart felt warm again.
“Timbuctu was the most beautiful city in the world. The buildings were all made of gold, and…”
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Translator’s Acknowledgements
The completion of this translation would have not been possible without the invaluable help of Irene Flack (Starfish English Services), who has patiently edited the documents and has provided constructive suggestions throughout the process.
About Monty Marsden
MONTY MARSDEN a Tuscan by birth, grew up in Milan, where he studied medicine and still works. He lives in the province of Bergamo, with his wife and four children.
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Addictive Fiction
First published in Italy in 2016 by Newton Compton
This eBook edition first published in the UK in 2016 by Aria, an imprint of Head of Zeus Ltd
Copyright © Monty Marsden, 2016
Translation © Marco Condorelli, 2016
The moral right of Monty Marsden to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
The moral right of Marco Condorelli to be identified as the translator of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
9 7 5 3 1 2 4 6 8
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN (E) 9781784978969
Aria
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Missing Page 24
