Death's Dark Abyss

by Massimo Carlotto

  SILVANO

  I was trying to digest the meatballs in tomato sauce from the rosticceria, watching a special edition of my favorite quiz show, when someone rang the doorbell. I got up reluctantly to answer it. That night, instead of the usual contestants, they had celebrities. They couldn’t answer most of the questions, but they were clever and amusing, turning their ignorance into entertainment. When I saw it was Ivana Stella, I was less annoyed by the interruption. It could turn out to be an interesting night.

  “Why on earth did you come at this hour?” I asked. “Did your daughter let you out?”

  Signora Tessitore was in no mood for jokes. “I’ve just come from the police station, not from home. A superintendent called Valiani sent for me. He wanted to know if I’d spent a certain afternoon here in your company. How could you humiliate me like this?”

  I offered her a healthy shot of cognac. “I needed an alibi. That cop suspects I’m implicated in the disappearance of the Siviero couple.”

  “That’s clear. He asked me if I knew them or heard you talk about them. You mustn’t allow me to get mixed up in this. How embarrassing! I had to admit we’ve had sexual relations.”

  “You told the truth. Don’t blow this out of proportion. Nothing serious happened.”

  “For you perhaps. I had to answer very intimate questions.”

  “Like what?”

  “Valiani asked how and when we met, and he wanted to know if it was the first time I came here. And especially if it was you who asked me to come.”

  The superintendent was shrewd. He suspected I was using Ivana Stella as an alibi. “Did he ask you anything else?”

  “Why? Doesn’t this seem like enough to you?”

  “You’re overeacting for someone who makes a habit of visiting prison convicts. You should know by now how that world works.”

  “I don’t like your tone. Instead of apologizing for involving me in an embarrassing situation, you mock me because of my volunteer work.”

  “What work? You’re just a frustrated woman who devotes herself to good deeds to give meaning to your life because your marriage failed.”

  “I won’t allow you to insult me.”

  “Shut up. You’re not capable of holding on to a husband because you don’t know how to satisfy a man. And now the inmates aren’t enough for you anymore. You’ve started to drink.”

  “You’re cruel. I thought you loved me.”

  “Strip and you’ll see how I love you.”

  She snatched her bag and headed for the door. “I’m leaving.”

  “Go out that door, and for sure you’ll never see me again.”

  She hesitated for a moment. “I’ll stay only if you change your attitude.”

  “Of course. Right now I just want to have sex.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Then there’s the door.”

  “Please, don’t treat me like this.”

  “Don’t you waste my time.”

  She sat back down on the couch and poured herself another cognac. “Let’s talk, Silvano.”

  “Later. Now get undressed.”

  “No. I want to know what you have to do with the disappearance of the Siviero couple.”

  “That’s nothing that concerns you.”

  “Can I know why you’re so hostile towards me?”

  I jumped up and grabbed the dictionary. I leafed through it till I found what I wanted. “A sentence,” I started to read out loud, “is a punitive measure provided by a judicial system for transgressions against the law, commensurate with their gravity. Synonyms: chastisement, punishment, sanction, penalty.

  “Do you understand? Prison is a place of expiation where rules are in force, and inmates have rights and duties. Nowhere is it written that a sentence provides for consolation. Only those who’ve suffered from the actions of criminals are entitled to that.”

  I was shouting and shaking with rage. Ivana Stella stared at me, frightened. I took the photos of Enrico and Clara from the drawer and shoved them under her nose. “Look at their open chests, empty, black. When the autopsy was finished, the organs were thrown back inside any old way, and the bodies were sewn up slapdash with thick nylon thread. No one has ever consoled me for this. The words of comfort have never gone beyond the obvious. That’s what insults you and gnaws at your mind till you’re driven mad with pain. And rage.”

  I was out of breath. Ivana Stella had turned pale. “Calm down, Silvano, I understand—”

  “No, you don’t understand,” I interrupted her. “Otherwise you’d side with the victims, not the convicts.”

  “Prison makes people worse than they are,” she said calmly. “We try to help inmates understand their mistakes so once they’re out they won’t commit more crimes. That’s all.”

  “And us?”

  “You victims receive justice at the trial. This is why the law exists. The state can’t help you overcome the pain, but people can. And I wanted to be with you for this reason as well. But especially because I’d fallen in love with you. You seemed a special person to me, but you’re just wrong and desperate.”

  She stood up and took her bag. “You used me, took advantage of me. I only hope you’ve had nothing to do with those missing people.”

  “Maybe I’ll become one of your beneficiaries.”

  She sighed. She looked older and tired. “Get some help, Silvano. There might still be time.”

  I was disappointed. I didn’t manage to punish Ivana Stella, just make her suffer. She stood up to me, but I made myself sound ridiculous with those vulgarities about sex. Rage drove me to bare my soul and show her the autopsy photos. I shouldn’t have done that. It was disrespectful to Clara and Enrico.

  I pulled out the bottle of Vecchia Romagna. Slipped on the headphones and started to listen to The Pooh. Clara had liked their songs so much. My woman, my love, the mother of my son. I tried to resist the alcohol, but at a certain point it laid me out like I’d been socked in the jaw.

  I woke up in the morning with my face dirty from dried vomit. Before I got into the shower, I cleaned the floor.

  When I opened Heels in a Jiffy, Valiani was already there waiting for me. He wanted to get on my nerves, but I wasn’t one of his ex-cons.

  “Something dawned on me,” he said, searching for the lighter in his pocket. “I think Oreste Siviero had put together his partner’s share of the loot. You know why? I went back and reread the transcript of his interrogation fifteen years ago. Beggiato always said he couldn’t give up his accomplice’s name because the guy was saving his cash. It was safer than if he’d put it in a bank because Siviero could never screw him. Beggiato would get mad and rat him out.”

  “Your theories are always fascinating, superintendent. But what can a miserable cancer victim do with all that money if he’s doomed to die in a couple years?”

  “It’s one thing to die poor, another to die rolling in cash. Besides, you need to be familiar with the jailbird mindset. Beggiato hung on to his dream of the money for fifteen long years. To have it at his disposal even for a little while would make him feel better.”

  “You talk about it as if you’re sure the money exists.”

  “It’s a conviction based on indisputable evidence, my dear Contin. While examining the phone records for the cleaners, I found a number in Canton Ticino belonging to a known fence who also has a sideline: he changes money for the underworld.”

  “Changes money?”

  “Suppose you need euros changed fast. He takes ten percent and gives you dollars in return. Or other currencies. But in this case they were dollars. My colleagues in Lugano have confirmed it.”

  “And I bet you’ve also kept this detail quiet.”

  “You guessed right. I’m certain those lovely greenbacks are now in your hands. And I’m thinking how they might make a nice supplement to my pension.”

  “Am I mistaken or are you offering me a deal?”

  “The best deal of your life. My silence in exchange for the mon
ey.”

  “Otherwise you’ll arrest me?”

  “The judge would certainly find the evidentiary support sufficient for an arrest warrant. Blood and fingerprints are nasty business.”

  “I doubt a Court of Assizes would be convinced. You don’t have the bodies. Maybe there was no murder. Siviero might have staged this charade to make off with Beggiato’s money.”

  “Among the blood stains on the ceiling forensics also found microtraces of brain matter. There can be no doubt we’re dealing with a double homicide. At this point, we’re looking for two corpses. You’ll read about it in the papers tomorrow.”

  “And when would Siviero and his wife have been killed?”

  “The same day as their disappearance.”

  “But I have an alibi.”

  “You entertained Signora Tessitore in the afternoon. You could have murdered them after or just before. We would need the corpses to determine the time of death. I do agree, in any case, that what you call an alibi could seriously jeopardize the charge.”

  “I think so too. An honest citizen doesn’t philander with a lady on the same day he commits a premeditated double homicide.”

  “The rest of the evidence is so strong that the case would nonetheless go to trial.”

  “I don’t think so. I am Silvano Contin, the man whose wife and son were killed.”

  “Do you really think this makes you untouchable? It’s in your interest to consider my proposal carefully. It’s your only way out.”

  I stood watching him as he walked away, dragging his feet. His left heel was worn down more than the right one. Typical of someone who suffers from sciatica. Shoes tell you a lot about the person who wears them. Their standard of living, first of all, and their social position. Valiani’s were a pair of black moccasins with laces. He couldn’t have paid more than forty euros for them. He was right: a little money would come in handy for him.

  RAFFAELLO

  I’d been on the outside a few days already and I still hadn’t gotten laid. What a joke. I never thought this would happen to me all those times I jerked off in my cell. I saw so much cunt on the street, my cock was hard for a good part of the day. I needed a woman. On the double. I was afraid the chemo would shrivel up my cock. Seeing as how I had no cash, or at least I didn’t have much, I went to Giorgia Valente. To her house, not where she worked. The most she’d do was tell me to go to hell. When she opened the door my jaw dropped. Fuck, she really changed. The babe of fifteen years ago had turned into a fat ugly broad. Life didn’t deal her a good hand. The oldest profession in the world is also the hardest. If you’re not lucky enough to find a fool to marry you, or not sharp enough to manage the capital between your legs, you wind up giving it away as long as you can and then you’ve got nothing left. No pension to enjoy and least of all the thought that you had a reason to live. I’ve known so many desperate old whores. Giorgia was doomed to become just like them.

  “You’re always beautiful,” I mumbled to be kind and she hugged me and kissed me on the cheeks. “It’s not true,” she said. “You’ve always been such a big liar, but I’m happy to see you.” She offered me a whiskey and told me about Silvano Contin right away. According to her, he’s crazy and dangerous. And she knows men well. Well, fuck Contin too, crazy or sane, he’s going to give me the money anyway. She changed the subject, asked me if I’d already been with a woman. I shook my head. “Then I’ll take care of that,” she said. I just stood there because I didn’t know how to tell her I couldn’t pay her. She gave me a smile and whispered not to worry. She took me to bed and gave me the works: mouth, cunt, ass. She acted as if she was my woman. A real sweetie. She whispered words of love in my ear and I was happy. Great woman, Giorgia Valente. She knew I needed a woman’s warmth, especially, not just a good fuck. In the end, I fell asleep in her arms and when I opened my eyes again she smiled at me. A real smile. At that point, I felt like crying. It’d been fifteen years since something like that happened. She comforted me. “Sleep with me tonight,” she said and got up to make dinner. We also watched TV like a real couple. The next morning she brought me coffee in bed and we made love again. When I left to go to the hospital I felt lightheaded; jail and death seemed so far away. I was sure the day would turn out good but the hospital was a bummer. As soon as I got there they told me the first chemo session would happen the next day. One nurse looked real pleased when she said I’d lose my hair. So did another one when she said I’d throw up my guts. Then she added I didn’t have any guts. The fucking cunts. They were young and pretty. I should just put up with it and not say anything. I would’ve gladly kicked their asses but they’d get revenge later. Fuck, I’m afraid of chemo. I don’t ever expect to see Oreste again and I really need Contin’s money to get shitfaced. So I’m not aware I’m dying and if I see myself bald in the mirror I’ll only feel like laughing. When I went back home Valiani was there. That asshole packed me in his car and made me take a spin. He asked me another bunch of questions about Contin. “I don’t know nothing. How else can I put it?” But he kept on bringing up my share of the loot. He wanted to know where and when I was supposed to meet Siviero. I just kept stonewalling. In the heat of the moment he came out with the name of our trusted fence. I knew for sure then. Oreste was all ready to hand over my share. The bull was talking but I wasn’t listening. I was thinking about skipping chemo the following day. I didn’t want to throw up on Contin when I asked him for the dough.

  SILVANO

  I brought you the newspaper,” said Valiani as he opened it on the counter of my shop. I set my eyes on the full-page headline: “Daniela Borsatto and Oreste Siviero Murdered at Home. Investigators Call It a Brutal, Premeditated Crime. Motive Remains a Mystery. Police Scour City and Province in Search of the Bodies.”

  “Have you thought about my proposal?” asked the superintendent.

  I limited myself to a shrug. Each and every word might prove to be risky.

  “At this point, I have to speed things up and deliver a report to the judge,” the cop continued. “Today’s Thursday. I’ll come by again Monday morning. It’ll be your last chance. Either the money or jail.”

  I didn’t have the vaguest idea what I should do. I felt like I was being sucked into the vortex of events, sinking even deeper into the darkness that engulfed my mind. Maybe paying for Valiani’s silence was the best way to avoid problems and put behind me the incident concerning Siviero and his wife. But I wasn’t keen on the idea. Learning the superintendent was corrupt had been a nasty blow, difficult to accept. For too long I’d placed my trust in the wrong cop.

  Thinking only confused me, and I started to feel slightly dazed. Maybe I was still hung over from the night before. I started to work, and right away I felt better. A heel, a sole, a key. Nails, hammer, brush, cutter. My hands moved confidently, and I observed them with satisfaction.

  That night I closed a little early and went shopping. I noticed the superintendent watching me from a distance. I was tempted to go up to him and say I decided to accept his proposal and hand over the money. But thinking had become even more of an effort, and I let it go. I was also picking out the würstel at that moment, and I didn’t want to make the same mistake of buying the chicken ones. I piled a good supply of frozen food in the cart and headed for the check out.

  “You’re single,” said the cashier as she passed the things over the optical reader. “The pre-cooked dishes give you away.”

  “Yeah, that’s right. When you’re alone, you don’t have much desire to cook.”

  “Separated?”

  “Widower.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  “Don’t worry.”

  “You know, I just got the urge to talk to you because I’ve started eating the same things too.”

  “Then you’re lucky. Until a few years ago this stuff was really crap.”

  The cashier looked at me in a strange way. She hadn’t understood the meaning of my words. And yet she was in fact lucky. Nowadays supe
rmarkets are full of food geared for people who live alone, but these products used to be rare and bad-quality. I now have fifteen years’ experience, and I vividly remember the ravioli packaged with a ragù so acidic it gave you cramps. Or the first trays of frozen cannelloni and lasagna, where the pasta seemed to be chipped and you needed an entire day to digest it. Evidently single people had become a viable market and as such were worthy of attention. I continued to think about the evolution of pre-cooked meals till I got home. A good sign. My mind was slowly beginning to function again. Every so often the faces of Oreste and Daniela would peek out of the darkness, provoking anxiety, but they disappeared almost immediately.