by Jon Trace
Federico beckons her to one side. He’s keen to make sure they’re not overheard as he breaks the bad news. ‘Angelis is back on the street.’
‘So quickly?’
‘After Anna supported his story about inviting him into her apartment, we had no grounds to hold him on the charge of breaking and entering. He asked again for a brief while I was out, and the duty solicitor sprang him.’
‘Caesario sanctioned this?’
He shrugs. ‘In fairness, he couldn’t stop it. Without the illegal entry charge there was no way we could justify the assault charge.’
Valentina feels her temper rise. ‘I got thrown all over the apartment and almost killed, and the law doesn’t call that assault?’
‘Self-defence. He says he thought you were an intruder.’
‘Bullshit. I banged on the door. I rang the bell and screamed out that I was Carabinieri. I made so much noise that people on the two floors above knew who I was.’
Federico shrugs again.
She slaps a hand on the wall.
He tries to placate her. ‘It could be worse.’
She glares at him. ‘And how?’
‘He could have complained. Started an action for assault.’
The anger shows on her face.
‘Ridiculous, I know, but it would still have caused problems.’
Valentina knows he’s right. Caesario would have beaten her with a complaint as surely as if it were a riot baton.
She determines not to let the setback throw her. ‘Okay, let’s get over it and get this meeting started. Anything else?’
‘I searched Angelis’s apartment before we turned him loose. The place was a pigsty. He had a stack of bible pages in the bottom of his wardrobe. Looked similar to the stuff on Anna’s bedroom wall.’
‘It doesn’t take us very far. He’s admitted knowing her, being in her apartment.’
‘It shows that maybe he shares the same fears as she does.’
‘That’s interesting. Still not enough to re-arrest him, though.’
‘I know.’
She pats his shoulder. ‘I appreciate you going the extra mile and searching his place.’
She walks to the front of the room and settles down at the main table, pleased that Federico put himself out. It’s clear he’s trying to build bridges.
She’s about to silence the pre-meeting chatter when Caesario sticks his head around the door.
‘Morassi!’
She can feel everyone’s eyes on her as she gets up and follows him outside. She guesses Angelis has made that complaint after all.
Damn!
No doubt there’s going to be a full internal inquiry, maybe even suspension while it’s carried out.
‘Sir?’
‘I apologise for interrupting your briefing, Captain, but I’m afraid it’s necessary.’
She notices him looking down at her hands, nervous that she might be recording him.
‘An official complaint has been lodged against you.’
Valentina doesn’t react. She’ll hear him out. She simply defended herself, did nothing to be ashamed of, certainly nothing that she wouldn’t do all over again if she had to.
Caesario continues, but he almost looks apologetic rather than triumphant. ‘Sylvio Valducci, the administrator at the Policlinico, has obtained a court order protecting Anna Fratelli and restraining you – or us – from seeing her or contacting her in any way. That includes telephone calls or anything else you could dream up.’
Valentina is stunned. It’s not Angelis after all.
‘The hospital claims that you and Lieutenant Assante personally put the mental health of their patient at risk. They say you did this on several different occasions, and in spite of warnings and pleas from the head of their psychiatric unit.’
She knows what’s coming next.
Suspension.
What a weasel. Caesario is even prepared to take down his lap dog Federico if that’s what it takes to get at her.
‘With respect, sir, all interviews with the prisoner have been carried out under medical supervision, and whenever we were asked to back off, we did. Straight away. No hesitation.’
‘Do you have any evidence – forensic or circumstantial – that proves she is involved in any criminal activity?’
Valentina thinks twice about trying to explain rationally how Anna manifested dissociated personalities from centuries ago who seemingly had knowledge of current crime scenes. ‘No, sir.’
‘A lot of work, money and time, and you’ve really made no progress?’
‘Sir …’
He halts her with his hand. ‘Don’t try to defend it, Captain. This woman patient is now out of bounds to you and your inquiry team. She’s off limits, do you understand?’
‘Yes, sir.’
He turns his head towards the briefing room, well aware that it’s full of officers awaiting her return. ‘Where are we on the rest of this case?’
She hesitates.
‘Aside from this lunatic woman, are you close to giving me any clear explanation for why we have a dead, ball-less man under a bridge on the Tiber and a severed hand in a church in Cosmedin?’
The look on her face says she isn’t. ‘No, sir. It’s extremely complicated.’
‘Then let me simplify things. Have we identified the murder victim?’
Valentina looks pained. ‘We lifted prints from the corpse, but they don’t give us anything.’
‘And the dismembered hand?’
‘The same.’
‘So nothing?’
‘I wouldn’t go as far—’
He cuts her off again. ‘No identities on the dead or injured. No suspect to interrogate. No forensic evidence to land a charge on anyone, and as far as I can see, not even a hint of a motive. How much closer to nothing can you get than that?’
Valentina can’t help but colour a little. ‘We have leads and theories, sir. Given time, we—’
‘May well get someone else killed?’
She bites her tongue.
Major and captain just stand and stare at each other.
He says nothing.
She says nothing.
The conversation’s over. Now is the moment when he’s going to suspend her.
Caesario smiles.
He’s going to let her stew in her own juice. Marinate in her anticipation of his next action. ‘Do you know what I’m going to say to you now, Captain?’
She swallows hard.
‘I’m sure you do.’ Another smile. ‘As of this moment, you are suspended from duty. You will receive written confirmation of your suspension before you leave this building. This suspension implies no guilt or pre-judgement; it is merely necessary to remove you from the process that will now unfold. On receipt of the suspension notice, you will surrender your firearm, any Carabinieri equipment, identification and authorisation. You will not instigate, nor receive, any contact from colleagues, at either this workplace or any other within the force. You will be notified in due course of any charges brought against you. You are entitled to representation at any future hearing should one be convened. Do you understand what I’ve told you?’
She stays strong. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good. Do you have any questions about the process I’ve just outlined to you?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Then please go and wait outside my office while the appropriate documentation is prepared and where you will be formally relieved of your command.’
Valentina starts to turn away.
He puts a hand on her arm and whispers in her ear, ‘You really should have taken up my offer, Morassi.’
70
Tom Shaman sits silently in the briefing room and watches.
Gossip about Valentina spreads like a virus.
A poisonous whisper here joins with speculation there. Within minutes, everyone is infected by suggestions that she’s being sacked, suspended or reprimanded. The cause seems to be anything from insubordination
to fraud or even corruption.
At first Federico does nothing to stop the outbreak. Finally he steps in.
‘Can I have some quiet, please?’ He walks to the chair where Valentina sat and stands behind it. ‘Captain Morassi is busy with the major, so let’s make use of your precious time and begin the briefing in her absence. I want to run through house-to-house enquiries and medical, employment and social services searches on both Anna Fratelli and the prisoner we released this afternoon, Guilio Angelis. After that, I want a team chasing the forensic lab for progress on all their reports. I want an update on the translation analysis being done on the biblical text pasted on the walls of Anna’s apartment …’
Federico stops.
His attention switches to the back of the hall.
Major Armando Caesario is standing there. ‘Lieutenant, due to unseen and serious circumstances, you need to adjourn this meeting immediately.’
Chairs start to scrape back on the old wooden floor, but there’s no accompanying chatter.
Tom fades into a corner behind a whiteboard as the room empties.
He hears the door shut.
‘Lieutenant, I have just suspended Captain Morassi pending an investigation into a very serious matter.’
‘Sir?’
‘The administrator at the Policlinico has made allegations of serious misconduct against both you and her. As a consequence, he has obtained a protection order stopping us interviewing or interfering in any way with the treatment of their patient, Anna … Anna …’ He wriggles his fingers as he fumbles for her name.
‘Fratelli, sir.’
‘Fratelli.’ Caesario takes a beat, then asks his next question. ‘How do you view Captain Morassi’s actions in relation to Fratelli, Lieutenant?’
‘In what way, sir?’
‘In reference to how she conducted herself with the patient. Did she bully her? Was she aggressive with her? Physically violent?’ Before Federico can answer, Caesario spots Tom by the whiteboard.
‘Who are you? What are you doing here?’
Tom answers calmly, ‘I’m waiting for Captain Morassi. I’m a friend.’
The penny drops. ‘Oh, the friend. I understand. Well, friends should wait downstairs in reception, not in here.’ Caesario steps aside and motions to the door.
‘Sure.’ Tom reluctantly leaves.
The major turns back to Assante. ‘Why was he in this briefing room?’
‘Captain Morassi thought he could help.’
‘Dear God, what is the force coming to?’ Caesario lets out a long sigh. ‘I never thought I’d see the day when we had women captains, let alone a situation where one might think her ex-priest lover could be of use to an investigation.’
Federico finds himself compelled to defend her. ‘He did find the body by the river, sir. And he did overpower the prisoner, Angelis, when he assaulted Captain Morassi. And being an ex-priest, he may have something to offer on interpreting some of the biblical links to the case.’
‘Oh, really? Well then, maybe he’d make a better officer than her.’ Caesario looks over to the door. ‘Before we were rudely interrupted by the captain’s lover, I was asking you about her behaviour towards Fratelli. You didn’t answer me.’
‘I’m sorry, what exactly was the question again, sir?’
‘Was Morassi violent towards the prisoner? There was that incident in the cell block; did she provoke it?’
‘No, sir.’
Caesario’s not getting the answers he wants.
‘Think again, Lieutenant. Perhaps it wasn’t quite as you and she wrote it up. Did Morassi provoke the prisoner the night she was arrested? Was the patient just defending herself?’
Federico sees what the major is driving at. ‘It wasn’t like that, sir.’
‘Think harder, Assante. Because if it had been like that, it would also be consistent with the story told by this man we released, Angelis. Maybe Morassi didn’t clearly identify herself as a police officer. Maybe she did make a wrongful entry into Fratelli’s apartment and this man was just reacting like a protective friend.’
‘I wasn’t there at that incident, sir.’
Caesario gets himself up close to Federico. ‘This is one of those moments when you have to make a decision. Decide whose side you are on. You need to work out whether you want to be a witness or a defendant.’
Federico tries to play dumb. ‘How do you mean, sir?’
‘Well, let’s look at your own behaviour towards Anna Fratelli. Were you acting that way of your own volition, or were you simply following Morassi’s orders?’
He hesitates.
‘Were you following orders, Lieutenant, or were you disobeying them?’
‘Following them, sir.’
‘I thought so.’
Federico can’t leave it there. ‘But Major, neither of us did anything wrong. We respected every demand by the medics to back off as soon as the patient looked even remotely stressed.’
‘Save it, Lieutenant! If that’s your approach, then I can listen to the rest of what you have to say at your disciplinary hearing.’
Federico looks down at his shoes.
Caesario puts a fatherly hand on his officer’s shoulder. ‘What I imagine, Federico, is that you were put in a difficult – no, not difficult – an impossible position.’ He pats his shoulder. ‘You were given instructions by your captain, and because you respect rank, you followed them as best you could. However – and this is a very important however– I am also sure you voiced your concerns to the captain about her ethics in pursuing such actions.’ He gives him a knowing look. ‘I am equally sure that you may now be able to recall those concerns and list them in a witness statement that you could write out for use in a case against the captain.’
Federico doesn’t respond.
‘It would be greatly to your benefit – both immediately and subsequently – should you be blessed with full recall about Captain Morassi’s unbefitting and unethical behaviour. If such a statement were made now, I would be able to allow you to continue as the lead officer in this case and promise that charges are not brought against you. After all, you will be a key witness for the prosecution in the court martial that is bound to follow.’
71
Tom doesn’t have to wait long in reception.
Valentina soon appears. She looks drained of all colour. In her hands are two carrier bags. Her personal belongings, newly cleared from her desk.
‘Come here.’ He opens his arms and embraces her tightly. ‘Everything will be fine.’
Valentina is more angry than tearful.
She didn’t expect fairness. Certainly didn’t expect favours. But she also didn’t anticipate this.
She pulls away from him. ‘Let’s talk in the car, not here.’
He understands.
Valentina produces the veneer of a smile for the front desk staff as she leaves the building.
‘Your major came into the briefing room after you left.’
‘I guessed so.’ Valentina zaps the car open and they slide inside. ‘He gave me a letter suspending me, pending an internal inquiry and a possible court martial. Then he told me that he’d made you wait in reception.’
Tom nods. ‘I heard him speaking to Federico. Sounded like he was warming him up to take over from you.’
‘Big surprise.’
She starts the engine, clicks off the park brake and moves out of the yard.
‘They were talking about the night you got injured, and I got the feeling Federico was being asked to say it was your fault.’
Valentina turns on the radio as the Fiat noses out into the traffic. ‘I can’t talk about it right now, Tom. I don’t know whether I want to scream, get hideously drunk or find a gun and blow Caesario’s head off.’
‘Screaming is the best option out of the three.’
She does.
Very loudly.
Tom covers his ears.
When she’s finished, they both laugh.
He
dips the radio. ‘As a matter of interest, where is home tonight?’
‘Not that fleapit we stayed in. The insurance company is going to cover a hotel until they’ve inspected the place and filed a report. I have somewhere in mind.’
He can’t help but be impressed. Even when her world turns to garbage, she’s still together enough to look after them both. Seems women the world over do that. Guys take a body blow and they go down. They wallow or drink themselves unconscious. Women take a knock and they just ride it, get on with the job of looking after themselves and those they love most.
Minutes later, Valentina parks at the front of a functional three-star on Via Mario de’ Fiori.
‘Let me book us in,’ says Tom. ‘If the press get a whiff of the suspension and come hunting, then you’ll be harder to trace.’
She slaps a credit card down on the reception desk. ‘I don’t want to be hard to trace.’ She stands tippy-toe and kisses him.
The front desk is busy and they have to wait.
Tom takes the place in.
It’s cosy enough.
Off to his right is a lounge area with light wood-panelled walls, and some of those dark chesterfield leather settees that you see in old English homes. A large desk in the corner supports a computer and printer, and there’s a long coffee table filled with magazines and leaflets about Rome. To his left, a thick red carpet flows down a marble staircase into the reception area. There are only two people working behind the high curved desk, hence the delay. Behind them, Tom sees the key slots and mail for a total of seventeen rooms. There are no frequent-visitor leaflets and nothing promoting other hotels across Italy or Europe. He guesses the place is probably family-owned and not part of a chain.
All pluses in his book.
Valentina dangles a brass key and a warm smile before him.
He follows her upstairs to a first-floor bedroom.
It’s decorated in soft peach and gentle gold, with matching ceiling-to-floor curtains and a bed large enough to land an Airbus on.
Valentina kicks off her shoes and throws her coat on the quilt. ‘Wine! I don’t care what colour or temperature, just open some, please. I’m going to the bathroom.’
